#i think that’s geralt’s voice

[dreamofbecoming]

feeling some type of way about the juxtaposition of “are you sure you have the right man?” and “i’m just a bard,” and “the sandpiper’s just a title” with “because you love yourself.” like. maybe it’s just a funny throwaway. maybe it’s a clone sex joke and that’s as deep as it goes. but maybe, underneath, buried under all that insecurity and self deprecation (which is buried in turn under all that gilded arrogance and puffed up affectation), she (they?) sees down to where he really, actually, truly does love himself. to where jaskier is exactly who he wants to be. to where he is proud of himself and his work and this life he has built. way down deep, underneath all the times he’s been told to shut up and stop caterwauling and god julian, can’t you just sit still for once? and it’s like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling and if life could give me one blessing and we’re all just one big happy family, right? no. and the crow’s feet are new, and and and and

and somehow, still, under all that, the thing he loves most is still himself. as it should be.

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Why did they do that tho

Every once in a while I think about how in the books, Geralt does anything and everything for his Dandelion, and goes murdercrazy when Dandelion is threatened/captured, and Geralt loves and looks after his Dandelion at every point And the netflix show made Geralt hate him, ignore him, and barely acknowledge his pain after getting TORTURED I just- YOU DON'T NEED TO BE AN ASSHOLE TO YOUR FRIENDS TO BE A 'BADASS HERO'!

In my heart they are happy and in love and geralt's not a cunt <3 I am a okay with the the half of the fandom that is firm on them just being friends, hell yeah they're friends! Amazing ones, at that! But you know who we all hate? The people who agree with TWN!Geralt's treatment of his bard... For shame... For shame....

[endiness]

not to always dunk on hc but i'm rewatching the sirens clip again and it's like genuinely funny how shitty hc's acting is in comparison to doug cockle's performance as geralt lmao

[thefandomlifechoseme]

hi, I'm here to ask abt your ghost Jaskier headcanons because you seem real excited about them!

OK SO-

Jaskier dies.

Maybe it's heroic. Maybe it's not. Maybe Geralt and Yen were there. Maybe they weren't. Maybe Ciri still beats herself up about not being fast enough. Maybe she doesn't. Maybe Geralt knew when it happened. Maybe he didn't. Maybe it was traumatic. Maybe it wasn't.

Point is, Jaskier is dead. Jaskier has been dead for centuries.

----

Geralt and Yen and Ciri are on the path still, when they stop for the night. There's a fire burning, and they're all exhausted, but Ciri is still cold, and struggling to sleep.

She could swear someone just draped their coat over her. Is holding her close. Is humming a tune long forgotten by the world. There is no-one there, but somebody is stroking her hair regardless. She closes her eyes, pretending they don't sting, that she isn't deluding herself into thinking that he is singing her to sleep, because surely Yen and Geralt would notice if they had been being haunted for the past several hundred years.

----

Years later, Yen is striking out on her own for a bit. It's not that she doesn't love her family, but she does need a break from them at times.

She is taking the long route to what was once called Cintra, because if being functionally immortal has taught her one thing, it's that she has the time to get lost in the woods. If she didn't know better, she would say that she was being followed. But there is nothing there, magical or otherwise. Even so, she is being followed. Or, perhaps, haunted. She doesn't deal with hauntings much- it's more of a Witcher's job than a Mage's, but every Mage knows the basics.

For whatever reason, her ghostly companion can't or won't show their face, but are present enough that she feels followed. She abruptly sits where she stands, and addresses the air.

"I don't have the equipment for a proper seance on me, but I am willing to allow you to perform a minor possession on me." The air is still for a long moment, as is her mind, before she gets-

unease-sorrow

a flicker-bright-snatch-of-song he never wrote

apology-fear

not-leaving-not-leaving-please

And then, clearer than the rest-

will-leave

if-you-ask

will-leave

wont-put-you-through-making-me

love-you-miss-you

He leaves her be then, and she is grateful for it as she beats herself up over this, because they should have seen this coming. How had they not see this coming? Of course Jaskier was haunting them- he'd done so often enough in life that it must have been practically second nature in death!

[bradleysbradshaws]

I am still a Cavill!Geralt truther, but I would be remiss to say that in terms of physicality, Liam Hemsworth could potentially make an excellent Geralt of Rivia. Henry Cavill has relatively short arms (sorry - I just notice these things), while Hemsworth has a very impressive wingspan. Hamsworth also has a long face and beady little eyes like Geralt from The Witcher 3 has, so I think he could facially nail it, too.

IDK MAN. I don't really have media currently, so I think I am going to check this one out, at least out of curiosity. :3

[lith-myathar]

.

[roughentumble]

wait oh my god! thinking about a modern pretend marriage au but Geralt has to pretend he and Yen are still married because Ciri got into a really good school but it's very old fashioned so Geralt's hiding the fact he's remarried to Jaskier and shenanigans ensue, esp if Jaskier starts calling Yen and himself sister wives bc it always makes Geralt go

YEEEEEEESSSSSSS

YYYEEEEEEEEEESSSSSSSSS!!!!!

[femmefaggot]

these monsters are terrifying can you hold my hand

[hanzajesthanza]

"the witcher books are bad because sapkowski starts writing about some random guy that's not geralt, yennefer, or ciri. why are all these minor characters here, such a random decision to have all of these characters, fighting in this war, that none of the main characters are in"

well i could ask you the same thing. yeah. that's right. how about you . huh? why are you here. you think you're the main character? are you a witcher with white hair and cat's eyes? oh sorry i didn't realize you were carrying the lara gene. no. you're just a normal fucking person. you're the random guy. you're peasant #237. just like me. just like everyone else. that's right. no one is the main character. we are all suffering together in the goddamn greek chorus we call life.

you think the story should just be about one guy? oh what does he need all of these other characters around for. why can't he just do what he came to do and leave. oh and what do you think the entire rest of the world is doing? what do you think people around the world are doing? you think their lives revolve around you? you think the whole world pauses when you go to sleep and only comes to life as you wake up and brush your teeth?

oh, why is there some war, geralt isn't even in it. do you think wars only matter when the witcher steps his foot in it? have you ever stopped to consider that it's not all about what he does or doesn't do? that in the end most of what they all do doesn't even matter because history largely forgot their love and their suffering? and that in the end, they all die, just like everyone else does and will? in the end, we all die. so maybe peasant #237's life matters just as much as a hero's?

oh, but no. that's just a "minor character". it's not who you came to listen to, so why hear their point of view? why hear anyone's point of view other than the sole one you expected? because everyone knows the world stops turning every time the witcher closes his eyes, and starts once he opens them again. no. he's a hero, he suffers greatly, but in the end he dies and the world keeps turning. just like every fucking living thing on this planet, experiencing life simultaneously: from the witcher, to the field medic, to the random criminal, to the little flea-ridden cat, to yes, peasant #237.

of course, no one cares about peasant #237, until peasant #237 picks up a pitchfork.

i read a take about the witcher online that i disagree with

[intrepidacious]

bring your hunger

summary: There is a Witcher in your house.

pairing: geralt of rivia x succubus!reader

word count: 2k

warnings: smut (18+ only!!), light dubcon due to demon magic, penetrative sex (p in v), some biting and choking 😌 please note that my blog is rated 18+. minors dni. ageless/empty blogs will be blocked without warning.

a/n: somehow it's been over a year since i posted a full fic but one ao3 writer's curse later here we are. whole new fandom. i've also never written smut until this show rewired my brain so bon appétit (please be kind). my biggest love to @aphrogeneias and @brandycranby who both let me complain about this story for about three months, i adore you!!

masterlist | read on ao3

There is a Witcher in your house.

You smell him long before you lay your eyes on him, the stench of his magic permeating the forest, harsh and acrid. Somewhere in the woods nearby, something is burning.

For a moment, you hesitate, considering your options. A lesser creature would’ve turned on the spot and run, would’ve stolen a horse in the nearby town and gotten as far away as possible, and maybe you should be doing the same. Forsake your home and this region and try to forget them to save your neck.

But your instincts are never wrong, and right now they are drawing you closer, one cautious step in front of the other, until your door creaks open.

He’s sitting in your chair, turned to the side to have a clear view of the entrance. He is propped up against the dining table, his matted white hair sticking to his forehead. The air is heavy with the smell of blood and sweat. Whatever happened across him managed to get him good; he seems to have bandaged himself up, somehow, but the gashes in his chest look painful.

He stares at you, frown deepening on his face, but he stays very still. There is a dangerous look in his amber eyes, full of fire and fury, and for some reason, that doesn’t scare you. Not at all.

Gods, you’re hungry.

There’s a steady pulse of power coming from him, muted but incessant, like his body’s not ready to drop the fight quite yet. He doesn’t, however, reach for the weapons he’s carelessly dropped on your good carpet.

So instead of fleeing, you draw the door shut behind you and you tilt your head.

It’s stronger now, the smell of your own powers. You don’t think it holds as much sway over Witchers as it would do over mere mortals, but it’s still enough for him to white-knuckle the edge of the table.

"I know what you are," he grits.

The low timbre of his voice makes you grin.

"That makes us even, then." You get closer to him, gingerly stepping over his swords. "Are you going to do something about it?"

His nostrils flare a little, but apart from that his face stays unreadable. Only his eyes betray him, still trained on your lips. He can’t help himself.

"I don’t kill your kind," he says.

"How generous of you." You come to a halt between his legs, reaching out to tilt his chin towards you.

He lets you, and there’s the slightest hint of amusement hidden at the corner of his mouth. From up close, the fire in his eyes burns even brighter.

"Let me show my appreciation," you say lowly.

His scent changes ever so slightly with the first small spike of his arousal. It sends a thrill of anticipation through you.

Your fingers trail down his throat, along his broad shoulders, down the taut muscles of his back, leaning into him even more. His hands fall to your hips, almost involuntarily. Slowly, unhurriedly, you let your nose brush against his and he inhales with a shudder.

This is always your favourite part. The final moments before they give into their desire, your meal prepared and served up on a silver platter, ready to indulge in.

"Don’t," he says, barely a warning.

"Don’t what?" You can feel his breath against your smile.

"Don’t tease."

"No?" He’s got remarkable restraint, this Witcher; but you can hear his racing heart. "Alright then."

And between one moment and the next, you let your clothes disappear.

It’s a simple trick, one that everyone of your kind can do as easily as blinking, but it’s never failed you. His eyes turn even darker as he realizes what you’ve done, as you move back a little to let him take you in. You lick your lips as another waft of his arousal reaches your nose.

Delicious.

"Is that better?" you whisper, tipping your head to the side.

He doesn’t reply. He pulls you towards him sharply, and then his mouth crashes against yours, hard and sudden. One of his hands grabs your ass, hauling you into his lap while the other one cradles the nape of your neck.

It’s a brutal kiss, divinely ferocious. Your naked core brushes over the noticeable bulge in his pants and he groans. You move your hips back and forth, just enough friction to make his fingers curl, nails biting into your skin.

This, you think, this is just what you’ve been craving. This sense of presence, of awareness. Your heartbeats growing faster. Pulling, tasting, wanting. More.

You only break the kiss to undo his belt, and he chases after your lips, hazy, starving.

You can relate.

He is already rock hard when you pull him out of his pants, ready and leaking. He pushes into your touch, raw need taking over.

You let out an appreciative hum, positioning yourself in his lap, careful not to put too much pressure on his chest. You want him to feel good, after all, no: you need him to.

You haven’t been sated in so long.

"Witcher," you chuckle breathlessly as his arms tighten around you, caging you against his body. "Aren’t you supposed to kill wicked, evil things like me?"

He growls, sinking his teeth into your shoulder. You gasp as he drags his tongue over the bite marks immediately; like he’s savouring your taste, too.

When he looks up at you again, his eyes are like molten embers.

Your hand tangles in his hair and you yank his head back to kiss him again, swallowing the sound he makes when you sink down on him, and it’s a pity, really, because you could get your fill from that alone. It’s delectably salty and bitter.

Finally, he’s fully inside you, and he tilts his hips to allow you a better angle as you start moving.

"So good for me," you murmur.

He slaps your hand away when you try to slip it between your bodies, and then his own fingers find your clit, gently teasing at first, but quickly applying more pressure. You gasp, your walls clenching around his cock.

He lets out a breathless huff. "There, huh?"

"That’s it. Just like that."

It’s too much. Your breaths quicken as the air around you starts to hum and crackle with building energy. It’s making your head swim, each precise stroke to your clit bringing you closer to that edge you’re chasing.

His mouth still trails along your neck, nipping there. Your skin already feels sticky with sweat and magic as you’re hurled ever closer to the peak of your arousal.

Just as the tension in your core gets tight enough to snap, he stills completely. His cock is fully sheathed inside you, but he doesn’t move, his arms around you hard and unyielding, not even allowing a single roll of your hips. Something between a whine and a growl escapes your lips as your canines come down hard enough to draw blood.

The Witcher smiles at you hazily. "Do you want to come, little demon?"

You want to bite him. You want to suck out his energy until he’s nothing more than a sad, empty husk.

Your snarl only brings out a dark glint in his eyes, and his hand moves to your neck, forcing you to hold his gaze. His grip tethers you in your denied pleasure.

"Ask nicely," he says lowly, brushing his lips against yours.

Wicked, evil man.

Underneath your skin, your powers are brimming with unease, not yet refilled, not yet repleted; he knows this. You know he knows, and yet you’re unwilling to give in. "Or what?"

His grin widens just a fracture as his chin juts out in unmatched arrogance. You could burn it off his face. You could dig your claws into the gashes in his chest and widen them even more, feast on his blood instead.

"I know you need it," he says. His cock twitches inside you. "Beg."

A shiver goes down your spine, hot and cold at the same time.

You don’t beg. Ever. You don’t yield control, not even for your meal, especially not to someone like him. But then he expertly applies pressure to your throat and your eyes roll back in your head, all thoughts lost to the thick haze of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, clenching around him again. "Please fuck me."

He groans, hips stuttering into yours involuntarily before he moves in earnest, keeping his hand on your throat. It’s almost agonisingly slow at first, one roll of his hips almost letting him slip out of your cunt completely before he pushes back in with one single, firm stroke.

Your startled cry of pleasure gets stifled by his mouth, coaxing, biting, until your claws dig into the thick muscles on his shoulders. The arm around your back guides your movement, pressing you even closer to his body than before as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, each one hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over.

You’re so close. You can already taste the precipice, black stars dancing along the edge of your vision.

Another moan rips out of you when you come apart for air, mouths open. "That’s it," he pants, watching you through half-lidded eyes, "Come for me."

His voice cracks with rapture, and it’s that more than the feeling of his own climax that sends you over the edge.

This part of your nature never gets old: As the orgasm rushes through you, the pent-up energy surrounding you snaps like lightning, funnelling into your body like an invisible current until you shudder blissfully with your appetite sustained. Your magic crackles around you, dancing on your burning skin like sparks of fire.

You hum appreciatively, your eyes still closed as you take a moment to collect yourself. This day has taken a pleasantly surprising turn, after all. It’s been too long since you’ve felt so thoroughly sated.

However, when you try to move out of his lap, the Witcher’s grip on you tightens decisively.

"Is that it?"

Your eyes fly open.

He is breathing heavily, but despite his loss of blood and the energy you’ve pulled from him, there’s not a trace of exhaustion to be found. He still has that same dangerous twinkle in his gaze. Fire and fury. Something lurches in your stomach.

"I thought your kind’s supposed to be insatiable," he says, leaning in to nuzzle at your collarbone. His medallion bumps against your breasts with a sharp vibration as his fingers trail down your side, a slow, torturously delicate touch. "You can give me one more."

It’s not a question. Still, the hands parting your legs even further are almost as gentle as they are relentless. A light press to your overstimulated clit has you keen, spasming around his cock, and he chuckles lowly.

"Eyes on me."

You hadn’t even noticed they’d fallen shut again. You’re leaning heavily into him now, another wave of pleasure starting to build as the smell of his magic envelopes you.

He growls, moving both of you around so you’re spread open on your dining table, him leaning over you with a look that wants to devour you whole. Like you’re the one being served up for him to make a meal out of. Impossibly, he’s growing hard again as his deft hands coax you closer to your next release.

"Just one more."

It’s such an obvious lie, but you can’t bring yourself to care. You’re brimming with energy, dizzyingly replenished and yet still ravenous. The air is humming with it, the promise of more.

"Don’t lie to me, Witcher," you still gasp.

His smile is positively sinful. "You said it yourself. I’m just so generous."

You’re so full. Out of the corner of your eye, you can see his aura flickering with lust, rich and decadent and beautiful.

"In other words," he continues, his lips brushing your ear right as you reach your peak again. "We are just getting started."

this fic was brought to you by horny hyperfixations. reblogs and comments are what keep your local writers sustained!! if you want to see more of my writing, check out my masterlist or follow @intrepidacious-fics to get notified whenever i post 💛

[blooms-in-april]

I'm thinking sad Jaskier thoughts.

It takes a while for Geralt to realize the music is gone. Oh Jaskier still sings- for their supper, for Ciri when she's sad, to entertain Kaer Morhen on late card playing nights. But the music- the music is gone. No more of the mindless humming as he walks, no more parsing over rhymes by the fire, no more harassing Geralt for his thoughts on such and such melody. Jaskier sings like a wind-up music box, only when requested, cranked for it, and snapping shut into silence like the sharp closing of a lid.

Yennefer snorts at his concern. "It took you this long to notice?"

Geralt grunts. She smiles, sharp and bitter. "You always were slow."

"How do I fix it?" Geralt snaps. He is not here to be mocked or play games.

"Can you fix it?" Yennefer asks. "I don't know."

Geralt doesn't know either. All he can do is try.

One of the mages had left a god's damned harpsichord in their tower room. It takes Geralt weeks- lugging the ornate monstrosity down from the mages tower, finding schematics in the library for the damn thing, undoing by sheer will the rot and moulding of a hundred years on the instrument. He spends his evenings waist deep in the guts of the instrument, swearing over chords and tuning and keys.

Jaskier's silence, now that he notices it, gapes like an open wound, bleeding wherever he goes. It stains memories of years past, of a cheerful smile and conversation given to him so freely, so easily, not a hint of subterfuge or awkwardness or fear. Now Jaskier only says good morrow if Geralt says it first, only speaks when spoken to, only smiles when Ciri is looking his way.

Geralt polishes the harpsichord until his fingers blister and his nose stings from the smell. He paints the elaborate carvings with pure gold leaf. He spends hours tightening strings trying to get the thing in tune. He worries over it like a child, because he doesn't know what else to do.

"What do you think?" He asks Eskel as they carry it carefully down to Jaskier's room.

"It's very nice." Eskel says diplomatically. "I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

"Appreciate it?" Geralt doesn't want appreciation. He wants that soft tone back in Jaskier's voice when he speaks to him. He wants Jaskier to speak to him, to turn to him free and easy with something to say.

"He'll like it," Eskel says, "Just-"

He turns, his soft eyes full of warning. "Just don't put all your hopes on an old harpsichord."

Lambert snorts, "Too little too late!" He laughs. And Lambert has always been hateful, more so since Aiden was lost, but the words feel true.

Jaskier smiles when he presents him with the harpsichord. He exclaims and laughs and claps his hands. He extolls its virtues, coos over its decorations, fusses over it with all the enthusiasm of a performing parrot. He pulls Ciri onto his lap and guides her hands on the keys, composes a little ditty on the fly for Yennefer, plays something sweet and sad that makes Lambert turn his face away. In all the merriment and gratitude and excitement, he looks Geralt in the eyes only once. Once, upon the first shock of the present. Once, with eyes wide and open, like a wound.

Geralt lingers as the others go off to bed, watching as Jaskier slowly fades as his audience wanes.

"Thank you, Geralt." he says. "It is truly a magnificent present. And far more than I deserve."

Do not thank me is what Geralt wants to say. Do not thank me, not when I have done this to you.

"I didn't do much," is what comes out of his mouth. "It was already there."

Jaskier does not look at him. "If this is an apology-" he says, "I do not need it. You were tired and upset. You spoke your mind. And nothing you said was- untrue. From a certain point of view. You do not need to absolve your guilt to me."

"Jaskier," Geralt says. "I'm sorry."

"And I forgive you." Jaskier says "I forgave you even the moment you after spoke. I don't think I would be myself if I could do otherwise."

It is done. The gift given, the apology accepted. And yet the silence still sits heavy in the air. It is not fixed. It is still broken. It is still out of tune and all of Geralt's twisting and tunings have not set the melody to rights.

"Why are you still like this?" He says. Jaskier stiffens. The words are wrong again, he's done it again, and he could scream with frustration, like a child who keeps swinging the sword and cutting himself on the dulled edge.

"Do you know the Countess de Stael bought me a Stradivarius once?" Jaskier said. "You don't know what that is. A fiddle, rarer than rubies. There were only twenty ever made. It sings like nothing else. She presented it to me on a bed of velvet, and told me she loved me. She told me to stay. And I would have."

Jaskier plinks a few idle notes. "She kicked me out a month later. Too mouthy. Too tacky. Too gauche. She had found someone better. She took back the Stradivarius and handed it off to her new minstrel."

"What I am saying, Geralt-" He says. "What I am asking- Is that you not do things you do not mean. That you not give me false hope. That you stop trying to make me love you, because I already do. I already do and it hurts. It hurts so much."

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier is at a Christmas market—having fun browsing by himself—when he feels a tug on his coat.

He looks and sees a little girl clinging to his coat, halfway to sobbing.

Asking her if she’s alright and where she last saw her parents just makes her full-on sob. Jaskier panics and starts singing to her. Miraculously, she calms down.

He then guides her to one of those security tents, so they can make an announcement or something.

While Jaskier fully intended to just drop the girl off with the proper authorities, she’s still clinging to his coat. And she sniffs pitifully when he tries to leave.

Oh well.

He’ll stay until her parents show up.

It wasn’t long before Jaskier spotted a frazzled-looking man with white hair striding into the security tent.

“Ciri,” the man said, relief washing over his features as the young girl finally released Jaskier’s jacket and ran to him. “Don’t ever do that again,” he murmured, pulling her into a tight hug.

“I’m sorry,” Ciri said, her small voice muffled as she buried her face against his chest. “I just wanted to look at the lights.”

The man sighed, his tone soft but firm. “Next time, ask me first, and I’ll take you. All right?”

She nodded, sniffling slightly, and he gently smoothed down her hair before turning his attention to Jaskier, who had been standing quietly to the side. “Thank you for finding her. I’m Geralt. And you are?”

“Jaskier,” he replied, offering a polite smile. “My name is Jaskier.”

Geralt raised a brow. “Your name is Buttercup?”

“Ah, you speak Polish,” Jaskier said, visibly impressed. Few people understood the origin of his name. “Technically, my name is Julian, but I’m a musician. Jaskier has a better ring to it, don’t you think?”

“It suits you,” Geralt replied, his tone almost thoughtful before he added, without missing a beat, “Pretty as a flower.”

The line hung in the air, and Geralt blinked as if realizing how cheesy it sounded, but Jaskier’s amused grin suggested he didn’t mind one bit.

[greasydumbfuck]

screw it vaguely related heres the other dude who i think could do an older frank. and also one of my fav voices in the polish va game in general. this is the best video i could find gang i am so sorry

michał żebrowski could also work i think however to me this is more of a wolverine vibe. maybe. a little? im just saying things

ignore that this is a skyrim video and in polish but this is the polish VA of frank castle in the 1994 show and its the voice frank has in my head always. and i feel a strong need to share that with you guys bc i think it is a good voice

[scarlet2007]

₊˚꒷꒦︶⊹ The Witcher's Witch₊︶꒷꒦︶

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia x reader.

[ Master list ]

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Summary: Being rescued by the Witcher after being accused of being a Witch was the last thing you expected in life. But it looks like kindness can go a long way if shown to the right people.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Warnings: Mention of murder, beast slaying, taming wild animals, witch hunting, the reader is beaten up and was about to get burned alive.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

Word count: 3.3k

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

The Witcher was finally in town, it was pretty clear from how the people were crowding towards a certain white haired man who stood besides a horse.

The crowd was sneering at the Witcher, calling him names and yelling at him, as if the Witcher was nothing but a mere dirty dog in their eyes. The Mayor of our town finally made an appearance, making the angry people go silent as they all waited for their "king" to speak.

"Ah, Witcher! We have been waiting for your arrival." The mayor chuckled, walking towards the Witcher, who stood tall amongst the crowd, clearly used to the sneering and insults of the people.

"There is an unknown monster lurking in the forest near our town, it had already murdered two people brutally. We need you to take care of the monster." The Mayor spoke as the people continued to glare at the Witcher. Some mothers even went as far as to try and 'shield' their kid from him as if he was the monster that would tear apart their children.

You stood slightly far from the crowd, watching everything occur as you scoffed at the hostility of the people towards the Witcher.

"They are acting as if he can't just kill them all in an instant..." You mumbled, chuckling darkly.

"You better be as good as they say you are, Witcher." Someone hissed, staring at the Witcher in disdain as they tried to stare him down. The Witcher ignored them all as he looked at the Mayor, nodding silently as the Mayor handed him a bag filled with coins.

"Where is the beast?" Asked the Witcher, making you sigh as the people started to talk about the beast all at once. Half of them were made up while the other half were useless.

Finally, the mayor explained everything that they knew about the beast, and where it attacks. You listened intensely, still standing away from the crowd as you stared at the ground in focus.

The Witcher nodded along, before he started to walk in the direction of the forest that was now forbiddened from entering for the safety of the people. You quickly walked in the opposite direction before entering an alley that lead towards the forest as you tried to track down the Witcher.

"Stop following me." A gruff voice said from behind you, making you jump as you turned around to face the dark and tall figure in front of you.

"Oh! It's you..." You sighed in relief, making the Witcher frown.

"Um... Mister... Uh.. sir? Whichever you prefer, I have some information about the beast that might help you." You chuckled nervously, looking around to see if someone was spying on you. You might get in trouble if you were to be seen with the Witcher alone.

"Speak."

You glanced at the Witcher before nodding, "Well... If you think the attack is being done by some sort of animal like a wolf, it's not true. It's not a wolf." You said quickly.

"What makes you think that?"

"W-well-... A wolf was injured because of the said beast and the wounds didn't look like it was from a wolf fight either so..." You mumbled, trying not to act suspicious.

The Witcher stared at you silently. You were acting suspicious and it was evident by the way you talked that you knew more than you told him. The Witcher took a step towards you, making you look up, still standing your ground nervously.

Witcher frowned at your weird behaviour, you were scared but not because of him, but because of something else. Something else was making you nervous.

He opened his mouth to speak before a sudden growl intrupted him, making both of them tense up as he grabbed his sword, stepping in front of you protectively. A wolf stood before them, glaring and growling at the Witcher, ready to pounce.

"Stay back-" The Witcher mumbled was unheard as you stood in front of him, glaring at the wolf.

"Sky!" You hissed, still standing in front of the Witcher. It would've amused him if they weren't in a tense situation. You, a young girl, perhaps in your mid 20s, standing before the Witcher with no weapons, as the Witcher behind you towered you with his height. You looked tiny compared to his frame, both height and muscle wise.

The Witcher felt annoyed at your pathetic attempt to tame a wild wolf, as if the wolf would suddenly transform into a domesticated puppy and obey your every command.

The wolf continued to growl but it slowly started to approach you, the wolf stance becoming slightly relaxed as it stared at you and your hand that was outstretched in front of you. The Witcher looked at the exchange in slight confusion, his expression was still stoic but he felt confused.

"Sky, come on, what did I tell you about jumping in front of guests like a beast? Hmm?" You mumbled as you patted the wolf, the wolf's tail wagging behind him.

"You... Tamed the injured wolf..?" Asked the Witcher, eyeing them warily. It's not everyday that someone saves a wolf, let alone tame them.

"I would prefer 'befriended' and yes, I did. He is a sweetheart. That is also why I wanted to warn you that this wolf is not the beast. Oh! And the beast also does not live here. It lives deeper into the woods, this area is just the edge of the forest. The people... They forgot to mention something important." You glanced at him as you stood up, the wolf standing besides you in his fully height, his black fur and tall height made it look intimidating, the wolf looked strong and but the bandages around his torso also did not go unnoticed by the Witcher, making him believe the story that you told him about patching up a wounded wolf even though it sounded bizarre and made up.

"What is it?"

You bite your lips, looking at the forest, deep in thoughts before finally speaking.

"The town people provoked the beast. Some drunkards wanted to prove to the people that there was no such beast residing in the depths of the woods, so they went ahead despite the warnings and... Well, only their mangled up bodies made it back here. That's why the people think that the beast resides in the edge of the forest and not deep within."

The Witcher's frown, staring at you for a while before speaking.

"They knew that there was a beast?"

You nodded, "The beast is older than most of us, the tales have been circulating amongst the people since past few generations, it can probably be dated back to the generation of our grandparents, something similar happened but this time, the beast is... More angry. It didn't kill people before like it did now, or at least that's what the people say."

The Witcher sighed at your words. This was more work than he intended to do. If the beast was as old as you said it was, then it wouldn't die without putting up a great fight and he was in no position to get into a full-on battle in his tired state.

"Sir..? You look tired, and I doubt the villagers asked you to rest or offered you food, would you..." You trailed off, laughing awkwardly as you stared at the Wolf, Sky, instead of the Witcher as you continued in a quiet manner, "Like something to eat?"

The Witcher froze, not expecting an act of kindness, especially from someone like you. He stared at you suspiciously, thinking that you had ulterior motives to offer him something like that. You looked at him in alarm, as if sensing his chain of thoughts as you waved your hands in front of you. "I don't need anything in return, i promise! It's just... You look tired and hungry."

The Witcher didn't say anything, simply staring at you for a solid minute before nodding his head along with a stoic, "hm."

"Um.. sir? Where did you leave your horse?" You asked suddenly.

"It's outside the woods."

"Ah... You can bring your horse in, this part of the woods is safe and Sky isn't going to hurt your horse, I can assure you that much." You smiled at him, the Wolf still standing guard besides you.

"How do you know it's safe here?" The Witcher rolled his eyes.

"Well... I live here. My cottage is just a few minutes walk away from here."

"You... Live in the middle of the woods?"

"It's the edge and yes, I prefer living here." That made the Witcher frown his eyebrows in confusion as he walked beside you to get his horse.

"Why? Isn't the town safer?"

You stayed silent for a while before chuckling softly. "Perhaps. But I am not too fond of the people there." The Witcher could see why, so he stayed silent and walked towards his horse.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

You provided food and a place for the Witcher to rest, which he found weird and bizarre but didn't complain about. You insisted that the Witcher rest for at least a day before he went to hunt down the beast, saying that it will give him more benefit in battle if he is well rested and fed. The horse, which you learnt was called Roach, was spoiled rotten too. It looked like you had a liking towards animals and insects, finding them adorable and taking care of them and for some reason, animals seem to like you too, even the most wild animals liked you and it was evident with how the wild wolf acted like a domesticated dog in front of you. The food you prepared for the Witcher was amazing, and the spare room was also comfortable enough for the Witcher to sleep in but you insisted that he slept in your room instead, that the spare room wasn't that clean and that you would sleep in the spare room instead. The Witcher tried to decline politely but you were stubborn and he ended up getting the best sleep he ever has in your bed while you slept in the spare room.

Your whole cottage was filled with plants, flowers and books. The plants weren't everywhere but the ones you did have inside were too pretty and went well with your theme. Your cottage had a cozy feeling to it, the aroma of tea and lavender was always present, along with some books lying here and there. It made the cottage feel like a home that the Witcher didn't have.

The Witcher thanked you before venturing off to hunt the beast, giving you a small, awkward smile before leaving. You waved enthusiastically at him, wishing him luck before rushing after Sky, who has decided to run after a rabbit.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

When the Witcher came back, the cottage was a mess, making him frown as he couldn't find you or Sky. It looked like you left somewhere in a hurry as there was still uncooked food on the table, half done and some books were scattered on the ground.

The Witcher went towards the town, the head of the beast was hanging from his hand. The battle against the beast wasn't easy, but it was nothing he couldn't handle.

The town was filled with commotion, people gathering around a tall tree, yelling at something or rather, someone.

As he walked closer, he could hear what they were saying clearly.

"Burn the Witch! Burn her! She was the one who brought the beast to the town!" Someone yelled venomously, making the Witcher frown his eyebrows as he walked towards the crowd. The Mayor took immediate notice of his presence as the people stopped yelling.

"Ah! Witcher! You are back and you brought the beast's head with you." The Witcher paid the Mayor zero attention as he stared at the scene in front of him. Someone was bounded to the tree with thick ropes, blood pooling underneath them as it dropped from the wound on their arm. It looked like a young girl, which made the Witcher slightly nervous. He couldn't see her face, as her head was down, her hair covering her face. The only thing that made it evident that she was alive was the quick motion of her chest falling up and down as she breath heavily.

The Mayor, displeased with the Witcher's ignorance towards his words, turned his attention to the girl instead. He stepped closer to the girl and gripped her hair, making her wince as he forced her to look up.

Witcher's breath hitched as he saw your pained face, staring directly at him before looking at the Mayor in fear.

"The beast you called upon is long dead now, Witch. You have no one to save you now." The Mayor hissed, staring at your face as he continued to hold your hair in a tight grip, making you wince.

You were already weak from the beatings and the lack of food, your head throbbing painfully under the harsh Sun. You were dehydrated, hungry, wounded and scared.  Oh, you were so so scared.

A lot has happened in the span of just four days after your last meeting with the Witcher.

You flinched when someone threw another stone at you again, wincing at the sharp pain that erupted from your temple, where the stone landed, making it bleed.

You couldn't even look at the Witcher, humiliation filled your body as you stared at the ground, willing yourself to not cry. You have yet to let the tears flow and you want to keep it that way. You want to keep some of your dignity, if there was even any left.

"What's going on?" You closed your eyes as you heard Witcher ask the Mayor. You didn't want him to think that you were someone evil, but you weren't sure if the Witcher will believe you over the Mayor's word or the people's word. You just silently hoped that they won't answer his question but your hopes died quickly as the Mayor began to tell him what happened.

"This girl, this witch, is the one that unleashed the very beast you hold in your hands. She was seen with a wolf, commanding him to attack innocents! She can put animals and beasts under her spell, making them do whatever she please." The Mayor spit out, glaring at you as you kept your eyes closed and your head low.

"Just look at her! She has been punished but she has yet to utter a word of apology or even a tear in remorse! She is a threat to the town and the people!"

"Burn her!"

"Kill her!"

Were the words that followed soon after the Mayor stopped talking, making the Witcher step in front of you protectively, just like how he did before when he saw Sky as a threat.

"Witcher, what are you doing?!" The Mayor fumed, staring at the Witcher in anger and annoyance.

"Keep your hands away from the girl." He said quietly, his sword already out, the beast's head thrown somewhere on the ground. No one dared to put up a fight against the Witcher, everyone was too cowardly to try and fight him.

"The Witch has put you under a spell too, Witcher!" The Mayor exclaimed as the people started to insult both of you.

You whimpered, staring at the people and the Witcher in fear.

"What good will it do to you even if you safe her? She is a damned witch that should rot in hell for her crimes!" The people agreed, trying to step closer to her before the Witcher pointed his sword towards them, making them step back in fear.

"I will keep her."

That made the whole town silent as you stared at the Witcher in confusion and shock.

He couldn't let them kill you, not when you were the only one that treated him like a human and showed him kindness, it pained him to see you in such a state and he will not let you get harmed. You took care of him, and it was now his turn to do so.

He gripped his sword tightly, glaring at whoever dared to step towards them.

"Give me the girl." He hissed, his gaze making everyone scared, some even rushing away to their home to not face his wrath.

The air was tense, people stared at you and the Witcher with scared and disgusted expression while the Mayor was deep in thought. The town was known for its cowardly people and after watching the Witcher walk with the head of a beast in his hand, nobody wanted to fight him.

"What will we get in return if we let the girl go unpunished?" The Mayor asked, smirking as he stared at the Witcher.

"You can keep your coins." He grumbled, throwing the pouch of coins towards the Mayor that he got as a payment when he first came here to slay the beast.

The Mayor checked the pouch before letting them go, commanding people to go inside their houses as they rushed away.

"You are lucky, or else today would've been your last day, witch." The mayor muttered venomously before leaving them be.

You flinched when Witcher's blade cut throw the thick ropes, all at once as you stumbled forward. He caught you, making you wince as it made you put some pressure on your wounds. The Witcher carried you towards your cottage, but not before the Mayor warned them that they had to leave before noon, and if they failed to do so, they will both be punished and killed. The threat made you tense, as you tried to make yourself as small as possible in his arms as he walked you towards your cottage.

"Where's sky?" He asked, trying to break the silence.

"I made him leave. The... The people saw him and they would've hunted him down or hurt him..." You mumbled, sniffling a bit as he sat you down on your bed.

He nodded in understanding, before cleaning yours wounds.

"You should go wash yourself and pack." You glanced at him, wondering what he meant by 'pack'.

"We need to leave. Make sure to only pack the necessary things like clothes and some food." He muttered, staring at you.

You looked scared, and timided, not like the lively girl he met that day that took care of him. It made his heart clench painfully for some reason.

"Oh... A-are you... Taking me in?" You asked slowly, stuttering a bit.

He nodded silently, walking out of your room to let you bath and change. Your voice suddenly made him stop.

"You... You can use the bathroom in the spare room to freshen up too!" He smiled a bit as he heard you, making his way towards the spare room.

After you were done packing and ready to leave, you both stood in front of the Mayor at the gate of the town, you stood behind Witcher, trying to hide from anyone's view, the Mayor stared at you both as you began to walk away from the town, making sure that you both were out of the town.

After walking beside Witcher and Roach, you glanced at him as you handed him a pouch with gold coins.

"U-um... I know what you did for me can never be paid by coins, but... I still want to thank you and repay you for saving me and giving up the coins you got as a payment." You mumbled quietly.

"Keep them." He grumbled, walking towards you.

"Do you know how to get on a horse?" You shook your head, making him chuckle at how cute you looked while doing so.

"Let me help you." You nodded as he grabbed your waist gently, trying to avoid any wounds as he helped you on the horse. It made your heart beat quicken with how close you both were.

"Thank you, Sir."

"Geralt." You looked at him in confusion.

"My name is Geralt, just call me by my name."

You stared at him in shock before smiling wildly, "Okay, Geralt!"

And for some reason, Geralt loved the way you said his name.

꒷꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒦꒷︶꒷︶꒷꒦꒷︶꒷꒷꒦꒷︶꒦ ͘ ˖ ⊹

[gwynbleidd-enthusiast]

Geralt and his mommy issues

Geralt was abandoned by his mom when he was just a child, leaving him with deep emotional scars. In the books, there are subtle yet significant references to how this abandonment shaped him, particularly his subconscious search for maternal warmth.

SoD:

"She treats you entirely like an object [...] and what you feel is a projection of her emotions, the interest she shows in you. By all the demons of the Netherworld, Geralt, you aren't a child [...] You trail after Yenna like a child, enjoying the momentary affection she shows you." - Istredd

BoE:

"Always on his side, aren't you, Nenneke? Always worrying about him. Like the mother he never had." - Yennefer

Tlotl:

"He maintained the appearance of secretiveness and pride. But at night he was completely in my power. He told me everything. He paid homage to my femininity, which considering his age was extremely generous, I must admit. And then he fell asleep. In my arms, with his mouth on my bosom. Searching for a surrogate for the maternal love he never experienced. Completely in my power." - Fringilla

This passage vividly illustrates Geralt's deep-seated need for maternal care, seeking comfort in a way that echoes the bond between a child and a mother 🥹

SoD:

"'Do you hate that woman, Geralt?' 'My mother? No, Calanthe. A choice should be respected, for it is the holy and irrefutable right of every woman.'"

Geralt’s response shows his complex feelings toward his mother, acknowledging her choice abt wanting to have a child or not, while also - what seems to me - revealing a deep, unresolved pain.

ToC:

"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..." - Geralt about Ciri

Geralt’s fierce protectiveness over Ciri stems from his own experiences of abandonment. He is determined to shield her from the pain he endured.

Geralt and red heads:

Several times it's subtly hinted that Geralt has an inexplicable inclination toward redheads, that perhaps ties back to his unresolved issues with his mother.

SoS:

"Geralt felt an anxiety, forgotten and dormant, suddenly awaking somewhere deep inside him. He had a strange and inexplicable inclination towards redheads in his nature, and several times that particular colouring had made him do stupid things. Thus he ought to be on his guard, and the Witcher made a firm resolution in that regard. His task was actually made easier. It was almost a year since he'd stopped being tempted by that kind of stupid mistake."

Note what he felt when he encountered his mother before in SoD who has red hair:

"He looked again, making the most of the light. Her hair was tied back with a snakeskin band. Her hair... A suffocating pain in his throat and sternum. Hands tightly clenched into fists. Her hair was red, flame-red, and when lit by the glow of the bonfire seemed as red as vermilion."

The vivid description of his mother's flame-red hair and the intense emotional reaction it evokes in Geralt suggest that his attraction to redheads might be more than just a superficial preference. It could be a subconscious connection to the unresolved feelings of abandonment and longing for maternal warmth, linking his "inexplicable inclination" to deeper psychological roots.

What do you guys think?

[fangirleaconmigo]

Modern AU where Jaskier posts all of his song to youtube. He doesn't have very many hits so he doesn't think much about taking them all off one day when he is rethinking his social media strategy.

He is shocked when his handsome but introverted neighbor (Geralt is his name) calls him at one am panicking. (The man has never even used his number. Jaskier came up with some painfully transparent excuse about a neighborhood watch just to get him to take it.)

Geralt's daughter Ciri has woken up with a nightmare and apparently the only thing that gets her to sleep is Jaskier's singing. However, Geralt is panicking because can't find his videos. He rambles about not being able to find them anywhere and he feels stupid, bad at social media, he shouldn't have called, etc.

Jaskier is intrigued. "I didn't even know you knew about my music."

"You mention it every time I see you in the hall."

"Oh, you are unbearably blunt. Touche, touche. In my defense, I didn't know you listened when I rambled on."

"I do." His neighbor sounds affronted.

"Alright then."

"Is that a yes? You'll sing to her?"

Jaskier isn't done questioning him. "You really play her my music?"

*Pause*

"She hears your music."

"How."

"I might listen to your music at night. To wind down. She just overhears. She's gotten used to it."

Jaskier feels quite smug. "Well alright. Anything for my fans. Put the little one on."

Geralt rolls his eyes but smiles and puts the phone on speaker. Ciri shrieks with delight to hear Jaskier's voice. After she falls asleep, Geralt sneaks out of her room whispering a thank you.

"You know," Jaskier says playfully. "My voice is better live. I could come over sometimes to sing you lullabies in person."

Geralt is glad you can't hear a blush over the phone.

"Yes. Ok."

"Yes?" Jaskier crows.

"Yes. I'd like that."

--fin

Inspiration