#tru plays the witcher

[trulycertain]

I’m going to talk about which ending I chose for Blood & Wine. And oh my, I might have some unpopular opinions on this. *sigh* This is critical of both Syanna and Dettlaff, both of whose characters I enjoy, sorta by necessity.

All right: I killed Dettlaff, and Syanna lived. Now, some people seem to portray Syanna as a bigger danger than Dettlaff, and while I can understand personal dislike of her... just looking at the maths, the idea that she’s more dangerous than him is utterly confusing to me. I understand that she and Dettlaff are meant to be dark mirrors of each other (heck, just look at the excellent dress senses, colour co-ordination is always Dramatically Significant Serious Business). And yes, I promise I understand that fantasy narratives and tragedy tropes are not meant to map onto real-life morality and criminal justice (crikey, I would not want to live in Geralt’s world). And I find them both fascinating characters and enjoy them. And I want to nick their costumes.

But putting ‘em side by side:

Syanna was definitely morally reprehensible. And yes, I do think she was using Dettlaff from the beginning - or rather that she was never in love with him. Attracted to him, at the start, maybe. And yes, she let cruelty make her cruel - but isn’t that a major thing in Witcher ‘verse? Heck, even Geralt does that sometimes, and can be a difficult person, and has killed people who have abused him. But yes, she was a murdering ransacking bandit who signed off on people raping and pillaging, and that was the biggest crime that stood out to me. And yes, she’s shown to be able to manipulate the hell out of people and be a bit of a tyrant, which is a bloody dangerous sort of power. (This is as consistent as Dettlaff’s “angry rage mode” backstory - even as a kid, she manipulated a peer into killing his brother.) The four murders with an attempt at a fifth? Not good. Not good at all. But heck, at least there it was more of a direct, “they mistreated me.” All right and a good way of solving your problems? Nope. Could I get my head round it? Moreso than “I’ll just chuck my rage at an entire city, including women and children, most of whom haven’t done anything to me, to make a point.” 

Dettlaff has always been Angry, much like Syanna. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I understand “screw humanity, they’re horrible, I’m going to go and live in the woods” (mood)... but he goes far beyond that. He already was getting his claws out and barely holding onto control over someone pushing in front of him in a queue (same, mate, but I don’t nearly murder ‘em). Even Regis, who has a “#1 Dettlaff Fan” shirt and little accompanying foam claw and always puts people on a pedestal, admits that Syanna probably snuck out because Dettlaff wouldn’t have understood a breakup and would have flown into a terrifying rage, and implies this happens often. Nothing about that relationship was healthy. We then see Dettlaff tearing through an entire goddamn bandit camp (much like Regis and Geralt, not saying that’s just Dettlaff) when he thinks they’ve kidnapped his former lover, just at the idea of it. We’ve seen his constantly escalating fury; the city is just the latest victim of it. Regis has already spent a long time at this point trying to show him that humans are equals, are people (the Humanist ring), and the sacking of Beauclair still happens on Dettlaff’s orders. So what happens the next time Dettlaff gets pissed off - and he gets pissed off a lot - looking at patterns? Another city? An attempt at a country?

Both Syanna and Dettlaff seem like they’ve snapped, due to going through some horrific things. Both essentially view people as disposable, which is the major way Dettlaff is a foil for Regis (they have a lot of similarities otherwise; I also suspect this is why Regis, in particular, had to be the one to finish him off - it made emotional as well as worldbuilding sense, in a tragic sort of way). I suspect even in the reconciliation ending, Syanna can’t be trusted, and should probably spend forever in a dungeon or, in the screwed-up feudalistic justice system of Beauclair, die. 

But while Syanna is just one person, and one un-powered person is pretty inefficient at sneaking about and murdering everyone and takes a long time to do it, to the point she manipulated Dettlaff into doing it because he’s essentially a walking WMD...

Detlaff can take down twenty people like it’s nothing in a few swipes, sometimes kills too fast to be visible, and nearly killed Geralt, canonically one of the best Witchers out there. Syanna may be as screwed up as him, but crikey, Dettlaff is legions more dangerous.

And while you can argue that Syanna is the Stregobor here - engineers a situation, uses people as pawns to justify a grievance - the last time Geralt encountered the Curse of the Black Sun, far more people died because he refused to choose the Lesser Evil. In this context, if he doesn’t want to cause civil unrest and risk an ally (Anna) becoming a tyrant, if he wants to make sure fewer people die, and if he’s going on the numbers? Yeah, Syanna is the Lesser Evil. Still pretty darn evil, but... less likely to level a town if someone pisses her off. Sometimes there’s no choice but an upsetting one.

In addition: Someone might say, “What about Regis? He changed. He used to be a right shit, by his own admission. What if that’s Dettlaff in fifty years, or a hundred, or so?” And aye, true - but I think Regis' case was mostly luck. He didn’t run into another, very done higher vampire in his right-shit days, or an exceptional Witcher. I suspect if Geralt hadn’t been about -300 at that point and he’d run into Hedonistic-Shit Regis, well... Yeah, Regis would still have ended up in ashy pieces rethinking his life choices. It was just sheer luck it was a bunch of villagers instead (and poetic justice, I guess). Also, it sounds like Regis’ Humanism took a long time, but was evidently started and some way along by the time he crawled out of the grave, and he’d decided to give up drinking the Ribena of Doom. We don’t see anything that unambiguous with Dettlaff. Dettlaff does, however, have a cooler coat.

[coffeeskater]

No offense but if it’s an rpg and I’m not making my own character, chances are, I’m not playing it.

[flowercrown-bard]

Whumptober Prompt 8: Don’t say goodbye

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Geralt/ Jaskier

Read on AO3

„Geralt, you‘re back!”

Jaskier’s eyes lit up, when he saw Geralt enter their small cabin. His smile added new wrinkles to the numerous ones already there.

Crow’s feet, Yennefer had called them decades ago. For Geralt the wrinkles were a reminder of a lifetime filled with laughter and bright smiles. Though he wasn’t the one in need of a reminder. He would never forget the decades he had been blessed with Jaskier’s presence.

Geralt closed the door behind him and went over to sit by Jaskier, taking his old hand in his. The skin wasn’t smooth anymore and the fingers were crooked from age, unable to elicit music from the lute that had been lying in its case unused for years now.

“I bought you a notebook.”

Jaskier let go of his hand to take to book from him, stroking the forget-me-not on the cover with a fond expression.  

“This is perfect. I have just finished filling my last one.”

“I know.”

Jaskier had shown it to him, proud like he had always been of his creations and exited to share them with Geralt. He had looked at every page, had let Jaskier explain to him the meaning of every line he had written.

Jaskier had looked at him with eager anticipation that almost gave him his years back.

“Come on, three words or less,” he had teased.

“It’s perfect,” Geralt had said and he had meant it. It was perfect, because it was Jaskier’s and it made him happy. It didn’t matter that Geralt hadn’t been able to read a single word. Jaskier’s hands have long ago began shaking too much to produce anything readable anymore, but if writing gave Jaskier joy then that was everything Geralt could ask for.

No, that wasn’t true. He wanted so much more than that. He wanted Jaskier to be young again, to be able to travel with him and let Geralt show him all the far off places he wouldn’t ever be able to travel to now.

At least he had been able to show him the coast.

Jaskier looked up from the journal and his eyes widened in surprise.

“Geralt! You’re back!”

His heart clenched painfully. It was fine, he told himself. He was used to this.

That didn’t make it any less painful.

“How nice of you to visit me,” Jaskier said lightly, as though the words didn’t break Geralt’s heart. “It has been far too long. How long can you stay, before you go hunting again?”

Forever. Geralt would stay forever by Jaskier’s side, as he had done for years now. Long gone were the days that Geralt only visited their cabin in between his hunts. For almost a decade he had been living here, taking care of Jaskier, helping him eat and walk and stroking his thinning hair as he went to bed wishing for the mercy of being granted more time with him. The only times Geralt still did his witchering, as Jaskier still called it after all those years, was when he accompanied the neighbouring fisherman-family to protect them from sirens and the like.

“I can stay with you for however long you need me to,” Geralt said and never had anything felt more true.

“Wonderful!” Jaskier said with a sly smirk. “Then you can tell me all about your adventure. You really should take me with you the next time.”

“I will.”

He won’t. The only adventure Geralt had left was the quiet life with Jaskier at the coast and the only thrill he needed was watching Jaskier’s eyes light up every time he met Geralt for the first time again.

“Wait, just let me get my quill.”

Jaskier moved slowly. It was obvious how much it pained him to take even small steps, the ache in his old joints sighing with every movement.

Geralt was tense, ready to jump up at any moment to catch Jaskier, should he stumble. He could have gotten the quill for Jaskier, but time and time again, he had been told that Jaskier wanted to know that he was still able to do things on his own.

The triumphant “Aha!” as Jaskier found the quill and almost dried up inkwell and sat back down, warmed Geralt’s chest. Watching all the pain of aching bones was bearable, when it gave him the sight of Jaskier still finding joy in the small things, as he had always done.

Jaskier looked up at Geralt expectantly, quill and the new notebook at the ready.

Geralt swallowed. There was no adventure to tell him off. Maybe later Geralt would tell Jaskier the truth, how he had met the fisher’s daughter on the way to the marked and helped repair her wagon, how he had had trouble buying all the essentials in this time of year.

Later, Jaskier would be happy to listen to the trivial things Geralt had to say. Now, he was attentively waiting for a heroic tale.

So Geralt gave him a tale. He told him about the time he had fought a cockatrice – one of Jaskier’s favourite stories, even though Jaskier didn’t know it.

As every time, Geralt told the story, Jaskier made inappropriate comments and laughed and gasped at the same parts he always did.

“Oh, this will make the most beautiful ballad! Oh, what should I call it?”

Geralt muttered the same thing he always said when Jaskier asked him for a title for this specific tale. An innuendo, of course.

Jaskier let out a barking laugh. “That is genius, my dear! Just you wait, I will make a poet out of you, after all.”

Geralt took the praise. It was easier than explaining that it had been Jaskier who had come up with the title of the ballad that he had already written ages ago, and unwittingly rewritten so many times after that.

“Will you take me to see the sea, Geralt?” Jaskier said after a while.

Geralt nodded and made to guide Jaskier outside.

“No, wait. I need my jacket first.”

“You are already wearing a jacket.”

Jaskier hit his arm playfully. “Yes, but it’s too dark. When going outside in summer, you should always wear bright colours to make the flowers jealous. Not that you would ever do that,” he added with a teasing wink.

“You’ll be cold.”

“I’ll have you to keep me warm.” Jaskier said it so casually that it made Geralt’s heart clench. Even after all this time, even though Jaskier couldn’t remember most of the times Geralt had kept him warm, he was still so sure that he would.

He sat Jaskier down on the small bench in front of their cabin, looking out over the sea. Jaskier sighed wistfully.

“I had always wanted to show you the coast. It’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

“It is,” Geralt agreed. It really was. It was beautiful and it was painful and Geralt knew that in years to come, he would never see the coast again, because it held to many memories of Jaskier and he wouldn’t be able to bear seeing the waves crash onto the shore without having Jaskier next to him to watch it with.

A breeze brushed Jaskier’s hair that matched Geralt’s in its colour, away from his forehead. Geralt laid an arm around Jaskier, doing his best to shield him from the wind, but it wasn’t enough to stop Jaskier from shivering.

All the warm colour of the summer jacket wasn’t enough to combat the bitter cold of winter.

Geralt stood up.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier asked, eyes suddenly fearful and he clutched Geralt’s hand in his.  

Geralt’s heart skipped a beat at the quivering in Jaskier’s voice.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back. I am just getting you a blanket.”

Jaskier nodded, but he didn’t let go.

“Jaskier…”

“There is something I need to tell you, before you leave.” He sounded so earnest, hope and worry mixing into a painful harmony. “I’ve been meaning to tell you for years.”

Geralt knew what Jaskier was going to say and yet his heart sped up, like the first time Jaskier had said these words to him.

“What is it?”

“I love you.”

No matter how often Geralt heard the words repeated, no matter how often Jaskier said them for the first time, hearing them was still as breath-taking and unbelievable as it had always been.

“I love you too.”

Jaskier’s smile as Geralt said the words made it all worth it. It made him endure.

He genlty pried his hand from Jaskier’s cold fingers. As much as Geralt longed to stay and make this moment last, he needed to get Jaskier the blanket. He prayed that when he got back outside the moment would still be present in Jaskier’s mind.

He felt Jaskier’s pale eyes on him, as he went inside the cabin again.

“Goodye, Geralt.”

He froze. Agonisingly slow, he turned to face Jaskier. “Don’t say that. Please, don’t, Jaskier. You never say goodbye. You always say –“

“I don’t think I’ll be seeing you around.” Jaskier’s voice was small, but for once his eyes were clear. “I am not stupid, Geralt. I know I am old. I know I am forgetting. It feels – it feels like I am trapped in my own mind and there are windows that show me the outside world and there are doors and I know if I pick the right one, I will understand. But I never find the right door.” He swallowed. He rubbed his fingers, whether out of nervousness or because of the cold, Geralt couldn’t tell. “Some doors are locked. And I am afraid one day I will not be able to walk through the door that tells me who you are, anymore.”

His eyes never left Geralt’s, as though Jaskier was trying to drink in the sight of him. As though he thought it was the last time seeing him.

Fear plunged its ugly claws into Geralt’s chest.

“You don’t need to remember me. I will let you get to know me again and again, if I have to. I will always come back to you. Even if the memory of me leaves you, I won’t.”

“No,” Jaskier said, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “But I think that I might. Maybe not today. Maybe not for years to come. But one day, I will leave you and I might not get the chance to say goodbye then.”

“Don’t say that.” It sounded harsher than Geralt intended. He tried to close himself off, to keep all emotion out of his face, but the impassive mask cracked. It had been too long since he had worn it. There had been no need to put it on while he was with Jaskier. Geralt hadn’t worn the mask for so long that now that he so desperately needed it, it didn’t fit anymore.

Jaskier tilted his head to the side, a smile still playing on his lips. “For years you complained that I wasn’t telling the truth in my songs and now that I am saying the truth, you don’t want it.”

“It’s not the truth.”

“Maybe it isn’t your truth, but it’s mine. And it would be so much easier if it was yours too.”

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t listen to another word of this.

Geralt all but fled into the cabin, leaning against the wall with closed eyes, trying and failing to get his breath under control. To get the words out of his mind.

It wasn’t the truth. Not yet.

Damn it, it wouldn’t be easier if he accepted it. Denying it and shoving the thought of the day that Geralt wouldn’t be seeing Jaskier around anymore as far away from his mind as he could at least allowed him to hope. To forget that there would ever be a time where no one would greet him and await his recounting of adventures long past.

He grabbed the woollen blanket from the rocking chair where Jaskier liked to look at books he couldn’t read anymore and balled it in his fists, before willing the tension to go away. Jaskier shouldn’t have to see him like this.

With a shaky breath, Geralt went back. Jaskier was looking over the sea, a faraway look in his eyes, as he listened to the seabirds’ cries as though they were nightingales. He didn’t even throw so much as glance at Geralt.

Geralt didn’t know whether Jaskier was angry because of what Geralt had said or whether he was too lost in his world of closed doors.

Carefully he put the blanket around Jaskier’s shoulders, tugging it tightly around him, before he sat down next to him.

Jaskier flinched and looked up at him, startled, before he broke out in a smile so bright, it could banish the winter wind tugging at their hair.

“Geralt! You’re back!”

Geralt closed his eyes, tried to put the mask back on, tried not to notice the crack in his heart that Jaskier’s words had left.

“You need to tell me about the adventure you had!”

“Maybe some other time,” Geralt said and he knew he couldn’t keep the thickness out of his voice. “For now, can we just… be here?”

Jaskier took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Of course, dear. I will still be here, when you are ready to tell the story.”

An iron chain wound around Geralt’s chest, getting tighter and tighter, making it hard to breathe. “I know.”

Geralt didn’t know for how long they just sat there, looking at the sea. As the sun began to set, Geralt found his words. This one, he knew, wasn’t a story Jaskier had forgotten just yet, but he told it anyway. He didn’t know, if Jaskier was even still listening, if he was aware of Geralt’s presence next to him. But as Geralt spoke about a day in Posada, about a devil and an annoying yet brave bard, he felt Jaskier’s hand twitch in his.

When he turned his head, Jaskier was still looking out at the sea, but there was a smile on his lips, lines around his eyes deepening with the memory of laughter.

Even when Geralt had finished the story, Jaskier still didn’t speak. It was only much later, when Geralt guided him back inside, put him to bed and pressed a kiss against his forehead that Jaskier finally found his words again.

“Will you do me a favour, Geralt?”

Geralt didn’t need to speak to let Jaskier know his answer. The look on the bard’s face told him that he already knew it. That Jaskier could ask for anything, ask for black pearl of Skellige that only existed in legends and romantic men’s hearts and Geralt would give it to him.

“Go find a new adventure.” After I’m gone.

Jaskier didn’t say the words, but Geralt knew that was what he meant. His throat became tight, but he nodded anyway.

Jaskier smiled and lifted his hand to caress Geralt’s cheek. “Thank you, my love.”

For a heartbeat there was silence, only the rush of the waves outside that would lull Jaskier to sleep.

Then, quietly, Geralt spoke the words that broke his heart but freed him from the chains around his chest. The words that Jaskier deserved to hear, at least this once.

“Goodbye, Jaskier.”

Jaskier’s eyes turned soft as Geralt took his hand from his cheek and pressed a soft kiss on it.

“See you around, Geralt.”

[aliypop]

The Element Of Destiny

Wordcount: 1,712

Character Count: 9,427

Warning: Usual Witcher Violence 

A/N: OC X Geralt , So I recently got into the serious Witcher and here’s a fic  of my oc Adina hopefully you guys enjoy!

"Unlike you... I don't have a choice. I never did!" Adina growled, her eyes giving the witcher a haunted look. 

"How long have you been covering this.." Geralt asked, examining the stretched-out scar of skin on her back, red whelps surrounding the brunt tissue on her back.  " Why's it matter to you!" the knight snapped topaz eyes, glaring at amber eyes.  Much like Geralt Adina could say, her childhood was semi enjoyable. Though where most daughters had their mothers. Adina had her father, King Clarion. A ruthless patriarch to the kingdom of Abbinshire. The smell of scorching skin could not contain the sound of screams that the young princess had made. The seal between a Wizard was an unshakable mark. What looked to be a mark of flowers and stars had turned into the scornful scar,

A reminder of her mother, much like the harp and her singing, sitting in the window of her bedroom was Adina, tears streaming down her face looking at the destroyed harp that her father took it to have the servants destroy.  For a princess of 13, she knew that there was a lot more to do with her life. Escaping to the palace stables, dressed in mens clothing, sat Adina next to her horse Buttercup.

"He wants me married off and a mother by 20.." she looked up at the white stead, "Yet I can't even carry the seal of my father's blood." she sighed, brushing dark curls away from her face. Adina knew that her father would see to it that he'd raise a proper family with the linage of pure wizards. But that wasn't what Adina wanted to do. Her destiny had lied into something greater she just had to reach out and grab it. In her hand was a sword, and in the other were the reigns. Covered in the crimson cape of the knights of Abbinshire was no longer the princess but instead a knight.  In her years to come, she had become a known name in villages and even monsters. But nothing compared to the one that was sitting next to her in the Tavern. 

"A Witcher.. my father talked about your kind.. said you couldn't be tru-" She watched as his hand had hit the wood table. His white hair and his taller, muscular stature trying to intimidate her did nothing but provoke her to want to fight. Reaching her arm over for her sword, she felt a grasp on her wrist from the mutant. 

"You don't want to do that," he smirked, 

"Give me a good reason why I shouldn't slay you right here," she whispered. Hazel eyes, looking directly into wolf-like ones.  Adina, all her life, was stories about Witchers and how they were hideous creatures to be slain, but there was something different about this one. He had refused to fight, and on top of that, he walked away. 

Flora, on the other hand, was sitting with a young man with brown hair as dark as tree bark, 

"Must be a bard." Adina thought to herself, watching the two converse over pints of Ale. Flora, who had been blushing from the tip of her elf ears to her cheeks, was practically enthralled. "I think your singing was wonderful.." the elf smirked. Slithering her hand on the bard's thigh, 

"Makes me wonder.." she said, her other hand pressed to her cheek. 

"Yes, my love?" he asked, taking his finger under her chin, pulling her face closer to his. She could see the light reflect in his ocean blue eyes and the curve of his lips seducing her to kiss him as the sea kisses land. But she could see forever in his soul. "You and I could make ballads together.. or play baker, and you butter my biscuit." she then looked over at where Adina was sitting, realizing her knight was gone.  Jaskier couldn't find Geralt, which in his mind either meant a contract or better. 

"Oh fuck.." she mumbled under her breath. 

"Perhaps another time.." he sighed, watching the other bard leave. Sometime's following Geralt made him lose opportunities.  

"Are you sure you're okay... " Flora asked, the two riding down the forest on their horses. "I usually am .." she mused back. Adina was usually one to carry conversation unless she was one in forlorn or thinking. Which Flora usually knew to be quiet.  The two were supposed to be looking for a Dracaena. However, what they had found was far worse than that a  "Striga!" Flora ran, hiding behind a bush as she saw Jaskier behind it. 

"Descenitus Vira!" Adina shouted, stretching her hand out, an icy blast leaving her fingers and towards the creature. But it didn't last long as the Striga broke loose. She had to think of something quick. Unsheathing her sword, she charged towards the Striga. That was until the sight of the witcher from the Tavern crossed her path. "Get out of my way.." she mumbled, low enough for only her to hear. Geralt only looked at the knight with a face of assument. He knew she'd either get herself killed or, better yet, be swallowed whole by the Striga, assuming she didn't have any swordsmanship. Weaving through the many swings of its arm was Adina cutting the legs off the foul beast. While Geralt went for the Striga, he hadn't noticed its mouth open behind him, trying to swallow him whole. "Watch out!" Adina shouted, charging towards him to push him out the way. Landing on top of him,

 Black curls draping over top of his face as she gave him a cocky smirk. "Fancy seeing you under me, eh.."  she laughed, hearing him grunt. Then everything around her was dark and pulsating. If Geralt had put coins to his bet, he would have won,

He saw the core of the Striga sliced opened, revealing a bloodied Adina, who smelled of guts, horse, and death. Also known as the usual sent of Geralt.  

"I'll be out of your hair witcher.. may we never see each other another mor-"

"What you find at home yet don't expect." Geralt said, claiming the law of surprise since, of course, the acclaimed knight did save his life.  "Adina of Abbinshire.. " she said, gesturing her hand out for his to shake.  "Geralt .." he replied, getting back on his horse Roach. Parting, in their separate ways, was Adina and Flora. Finding an Inn in the village was getting tricky. The two travelers had been getting tired of riding around until she had seen the dark horse. The inside was homey, but with trouble stirring around, nothing she couldn't handle, or so she thought.  

"Hey, you... We don like ye kind .." a few rogues had said.

"And what that be, you little shites..." she growled.

"Knights.. you inglorious bastard."

"Wanna say that to my face, or are you tall enough to reach it!" she took Flora's lute, whacking one in the face with it. "Hey! that's very expensive !" Flora growled Adina's hands, and her face was a bit bloody from the tavern fight that broke out cornered with no energy for her spells, she was defenseless. Watching as their heads were clean cut off was Geralt. 

"Are we going to keep meeting like this.." she asked, looking up at him. 

"Only if you allow it to be." he helped her up before trying to walk away. 

"Well, I grant you whatever you want.. for saving my life.."  she said sheepishly.

"You will grant me whatever unexpected thing you encounter when you return home." he shrugged it off.

"That's if I ever return home.." she said under her breath.

"Do you have a room open.." Both the knight and witcher asked the innkeeper gulped nervously of the news to tell the two. "Well, we have one left.. sold the other to two love birds blabbering  on about butter?" Adina growled, looking at Geralt as she could only want to die rather than share a room with a man who she had saved and he who saved her. "Well.." 

"We'll take it." Geralt grumbled. The world knew that witchers weren't emotional. But there was this odd sense of wanting to get to know the wreckless woman who's eyes were as bright as a spring sun.  The room was quiet Geralt, in the tub, and Adina sitting by the window, brushing her hair.  

"So you left your kingdom.."  

"Yes, I left my poor family to be a knight." she looked at him from across the room, " Serfs .. tragic.." 

"Hmm.." he cracked a smile, "Bullshite.." he smirked, knowing she was lying. 

"You call bullshite on my story.." she laughed,  

"oh Fuck," Geralt thought to himself when he heard the mere chime of her laugh. It was pure breathy, and he wanted to continue being the reason he heard it. "Yes... Your highness.." he said, "How'd you know." picking up her emerald tiara from the ground, he responded with, "I know a princess when I see one.."  

"Well, I've news for you, Witcher.  " she turned her back, annoyed by him. "And what's that.." he laughed. His body nearly pressed against her back, his lips near her ear. Adina could feel a shiver down her spine as she tried to avoid it, keeping her gaze towards her window. 

"I am no princess..." 

Topaz eyes, now looking at Amber eyes with a glow, was Geralt. Who had never seen Adina like this, boils practically forming around the scar.

 And a screech of agony falling from her lips caused  Geralt to worry, 

  "Go!" 

"Let me help you!" he said, holding her in his arms. 

"This is my Destiny!" she growled, a qip of fire torching his skin. He wasn't leaving her, not after the adventures they shared the many laws of surprises they granted each other and especially not after realizing she too was his destiny that he couldn't avoid.

"I don't want to be a burden!" 

"You're a pain in the arse!" he shouted, "But not a burden!" he took her lips with his breathing a new life into her with a kiss. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she felt the pain ease little by little, knowing she wouldn't have to face it alone. 

[wordsablaze]

Ch.8. Beneficial Blue

Blue Buttercup Almost like buttercups, it took Jaskier a lot of time and trouble to bloom and find his place in the world, but it wasn’t all so golden… (aka: yennefer was his mother way before he was jaskier)

A/N: can’t even see canon anymore but soft yen is worth it imo :p @dauntless-hufflepuff-pride x

previous chapter

-

It’s three days before they need to leave the house again.

“Yenny, why are you frowning?”

Oh, and she’s taken to frowning a lot over said three days. She can’t help it, she’d felt something wrong with Lord Ambrose’s house and Julian had said the same.

“It’s nothing, Julian. Are you hungry?”

Julian shakes his head, simply curling back into her lap again as he starts playing with the fabric of her dress, which seems to be a nervous habit of his. She can’t understand how it brings him comfort but she can’t bring herself to stop him either.

(It’s somehow comforting to her too.)

A part of her hates this, hates that she can feel so… comforted… by someone so small and fragile and confusing - It’s dangerous and she doesn’t like that.

“Do we have to go back?” he asks, pulling her out of her thoughts.

Yennefer sighs, running her fingers through his hair. “We do. You can stay here if you want but I’d rather you were with me.”

He tightens his grip on her dress and makes a strange noise before replying, “Stay with you, like you said.”

(She can’t believe he still wants to stay.)

“Okay well, we’ll have to leave soon then. Are you ready?”

Julian finally sits upright and stares at her, almost amused. “Aren’t we matching again?”

Yennefer doesn’t know how to comprehend the fact that four words can mean so much to her so she just settles for nodding and watching as he grins before running off to go find his chemise.

She takes the very brief moment of solitude to inhale and exhale slowly. She’s not paranoid, of course not, but even a simple job is different now that she has someone else to be worried about.

Maybe everyone at Aretuza had been right in thinking that life should be a one-woman show and that needing other people or having other people need you is just a euphemism for having a weakness, a liability, a way for things to go wrong and-

“Yenny, I need help with the buttons!”

(Either way, it doesn’t feel right to deny Julian her help.)

“Hang on, Julian,” Yennefer sighs, kneeling down to see what he’s done.

It’s not that bad, to be fair, he just seems to be struggling with doing up his doublet again. She does it for him without questioning it, only for him to frown at her. “You can’t see the matchy jewel!”

“The what?” Yennefer blinks.

Julian pokes her shoulder. “My new jewel. You traded for it.”

Oh.

(She’s pretty sure she’d trade almost anything for him if he needed it.)

“Your necklace? Hang on…” she trails off, unfastening the top button so he can pull the necklace out and have it on display.

She doesn’t tell him that she’s reinforced it with magic so it will never fall off or get lost. The only way it will come off is if he removes it himself but he’s yet to show any signs of wanting to do so.

“Are you ready to portal now?” she asks softly.

Julian nods, but lifts his arms above his head, curling his fingers. She sighs but lifts him up with one arm, making sure he’s secure before creating a portal and stepping through it.

He makes a pained noise as they do, clinging onto her as if his life depends on it. But a few moments of her stroking his hair later, he grins widely. “Your magic is fun.”

(He always says that as if she isn’t capable of destroying the continent.)

“Let’s go find this rogue mage, okay, little one?” she asks instead, lowering him to the ground and letting him take her hand as they start walking, following the trail of uncontrolled chaos that seems to buzz in the air.

It’s not long before they reach what looks like a small hut. “I wish these idiots had better decoration skills,” Yennefer mutters.

“Yours is way nicer,” Julian agrees, and she’s abruptly reminded that she might need to be careful what she says if there’s someone else with her. It really wouldn’t do to have Julian call unhinged mages idiots, now, would it?

“Who are you?” someone asks sharply, drawing their attention to the man standing at the doorway.

Julian gasps and steps behind her, his free hand clutching at her dress once again.

(It’s oddly satisfying.)

“Yennefer of Vengerberg, here to determine whether or not you’re actually Lord Ambrose’s problem.”

“Leave now and I won’t be forced to fight you,” he replies, all but growling at them.

Yennefer rolls her eyes. “You wouldn’t last five minutes but do go on wasting your breath if it pleases you.”

The other mage lowers his hands and looks over them both, shaking his head. “I���m not the problem here and I have no intention of orphaning the boy. Haven’t you been to his manor yet?”

She’s not sure what he means because there’s no way someone with such appalling aesthetic sense could defeat her and there’s no way he could know who Julian’s parents are, but she chalks it down to him being somewhat crazed.

“What about his manor?”

(She doesn’t like the idea of having missed something.)

Julian steps out from behind her and squeezes her hand. “It was bad energy, like you said.”

The other mage looks at Julian in shock and Yennefer is immediately hit with the urge to remove his eyes for daring to do so. But before she can say anything, he nods at Julian. “Yes, exactly. There’s another mage staying with him and poisoning this town.”

Yennefer shakes her head. “That’s a heavy accusation to make for someone surrounded by chaos. Where’s your proof?”

“You weren’t following my trail, Yennefer of Vengerberg, you were following the residue of his magic on me,” the other mage says, stepping inside his hut with the nerve to assume she’s going to follow.

She immediately has every intention to set the place ablaze but Julian tugs on her hand so she decides to let the mage live for a little longer. Just until she knows what’s happening anyway.

(If Lord Ambrose is playing her, he’s not getting away with it.)

“What’s your name?” Julian asks the mage.

“Marcio, and you?” the mage, apparently called Marcio, replies.

Julian glances up at Yennefer before replying, which warms her heart just a little. When she nods, he turns back to Marcio and grins. “I’m Julian.”

“Where are you from, Julian?” Marcio asks as he searches a very disorganised desk.

Yennefer squeezes Julian’s hand as he shuffles uncomfortably and clears her throat. “He’s with me. Now, are you going to make a fool of yourself for much longer?”

Marcio sighs. “I made a note of every time someone went missing. And each time, there was a witcher in town to slay a monster exactly a week later.”

At that, Yennefer’s curiosity piques. Along with confusion and the slightest of awe, because if what Marcio is implying is actually happening, there’s a darker shade of magic involved that really shouldn’t even be possible.

(But it also shouldn���t be possible for anyone to desire being with her as long as Julian has and yet here they are.)

“What kind of monster? Big scary ones with lots of teeth?” Julian asks, his eyes wide.

Yennefer blinks, almost having forgotten that he’s a child and had never seen a bestiary of any sort.

Shifting uncertainty, Marcio nods. “Sometimes. It’s rarely the same one twice.”

“Are you going to fight them, Yenny?” Julian looks back up to her, no doubt in his eyes that she can do such a thing. Gods is it empowering to see the faith, however misplaced, that he has in her and her abilities.

She nods at him. “Of course. But first I think we need to figure out where they’re coming from, monsters don’t usually have a rota.”

(Not even the ones inside her head.)

Marcio chuckles. “They’re coming from Ambrose’s manor. I haven’t been able to get closer than a mile or so.”

Yennefer raises an eyebrow. “We were inside just a few days ago.”

“The mage knows of me and my attempts to stop him but you weren’t a threat to him-” he holds his hands up, fingers splayed, as Yennefer narrows her eyes- “only because you didn’t know what I know about him.”

“You’re lying,” Julian blurts.

Yennefer resists the urge to look at him and instead watches Marcio glance at him nervously, his teeth briefly worrying his lip before he laughs. “Why would I lie to you?”

(She’s so tired of everyone lying to her.)

She shifts her gaze to the room they’re in, searching for anything to verify his version of the truth. Amongst all the chaos and clutter, there’s nothing to suggest he’s making things up, except for…

“Is that him?” she asks, nodding her head to a scribbled drawing that’d clearly been discarded in anger. One of the men in the drawing is clearly Marcio but the other she doesn’t recognise.

Marcio follows her gaze and pales just enough to confirm her suspicion. “You were working together on whatever it is happening in this town, weren’t you?”

Julian steps behind her once again as Marcio’s smile curls into a grimace, both of his tiny hands now clasped around hers as he goes quiet, clearly waiting for her to do something, seeking her protection.

(How dare Marcio even talk to Julian through his lying teeth.)

“It wasn’t my fault! It wasn’t meant to be like this, it was just-”

“Toying with chaos that you couldn’t begin to understand?” Yennefer interjects, clenching her jaw. “Mages like you don’t deserve magic.”

Marcio steps back at the venom in he words, as he should, but he doesn’t give up, shaking his head slowly. “I wasn’t lying before, I swear it. He really is responsible for the disappearances and I need your help.”

“Yenny doesn’t need yours,” Julian says quietly.

(It takes all her willpower not to smile at that.)

Not that Marcio would have noticed because he’s too busy looking startled. “Please, there are innocent people in this town.”

Any other day, Yenenfer would have rolled her eyes, told him that there are so-called innocent people everywhere, and left him to clear up his own mess. But any other day, she wouldn’t still be internally smiling at the trust a small child has placed in her.

She sighs. “I couldn’t care less about your pathetic partnership and its failure. I will do what I came here to do and if you even think about interfering, I will see you as part of the problem. Do you understand?”

“He does,” Julian replies for him, grinning.

Marcio stays silent as Yennefer sends him a biting glare and leads Julian out of the hut, back towards the manor. He remains silent as they leave, for which she’s grateful as she’d rather not expose Julian to the sight of a dead mage just yet.

(He deserves better than her violence.)

“How did you know he was lying?” she asks Julian.

He just shrugs. “I don’t know. His words weren’t right, that’s what always happens when people lie.”

Yennefer can’t figure out what that means but she doesn’t push him to explain because she doesn’t want to know who else had lied to him. Well, that’s a lie, she does want to know, but she doesn’t want to upset him by asking.

And anyway, he’s one of very few people who have actually managed to help her so she doesn’t mind giving him the benefit of the doubt. She just nods at him. “Let’s go fix this mage problem, okay?”

Julian nods back eagerly. “And then can we have jam again?”

This time she can’t help smiling, she really can't. So she lets herself do so and nods. “Of course, little one. We can have all the jam you like.”

“Thank you!” Julian beams as if she’d just promised him the moon and stars.

(She would promise him those as well in a heartbeat.)

As the two of them continue walking, she makes a mental note to somehow acquire more jam on their way back.

-

one day i’ll crosspost to tumblr with no delay, but yesterday was not that day...

-

thanks for reading !! masterlist | witcher blog: @itsjaskier | next chapter

[scarlettwitcher]

Babe don’t be down!!! You’re amazing💕💕💕 #3, #23, #30

No, you're amazing! Love you babe💕💕💕💕

3. Do you feel more connected to the moon or the sun?

I definitely am more connected to the moon. I am a huge night person. You will always find me awake at night. If I could have a sun roof to watch the stars every night, I would. I dislike the sun. That's all I'm gonna say. 😁

23. What’s your zodiac sign? Do you think you fit the general characteristics of that sign?

Last I checked it was Cancer. Everytime I look at the characteristics I'm like check, check, check, no that's not tru-check. I do think I fit the cancer type but why does it gotta be some weird tadpole 69 😭

30. What do you do to feel at peace?

There's a few things I do. I call my friends, or try to talk to my mom. I write down my feelings, or try to focus on writing a character, have them go through what I'm going through, and figure out the way that character would deal with it, how they got themselves to feel okay. I play games, mostly it's been The Witcher 3, to keep my mind busy. It's always some form of trying to keep myself busy that when I'm done I feel this sense of calm, like oh wow, I did something!

[gayregis]

soulapparition replied to your photo

“@soulapparition oh ur so kind... funnily enough this doesnt fit into...”

������������I totally understand. It was a beautiful little slice of life and love that made me want more �� but I totally get the difficulty of building an entire plot around it. 

 Akalshaks I agree. Truly loving someone involves all their flaws, all the things you DONT like. They’re both so much more to each other than their public image. It’s tru love ��

legit... idk how sapkowski did it, but it seems that each one of the short stories has a purpose to demonstrate something about the characters, their relationships, and the lore around them. if/when i start writing witcher fanfiction i want to try to emulate this style where there’s a short plot but a lot is demonstrated about the characters/something is “solved.”

i did like ONE gerlion fic a while ago where i tried to tackle this idea of why its important that dandelion writes about geralt etc but i think it got muddled (idk i dont read my own writing o_o im very noncommittal to this because i used to be committed to fic writing and it made my life difficult).

this is BASICALLY just me brainstorming at this point, but re: the gerlion fic ideas i have..... some possible themes, things to expand upon, issues that the characters have that i think i might look at... also just issues that i think would come up in their relationship/that HAVE come up in their relationship that they dont delve into in canon:

geralt struggling with intimacy is like the biggest theme in what i think about when i want to write abt gerlion lmaooo. i think dandelion at some point just flat out asks him why he doesnt think he deserves love ... haha.......... ouch

similarly, geralt struggling to understand what to do with a friend and what friendship is and what role dandelion plays in his life now that he’s met him... because he’s never really had a friend before...

geralt and dandelion learning to empathize with each other’s backgrounds and realize the grass is not always greener on the other side (geralt might envy dandelion for being beloved, but he realizes how uncomfortable that attention can be, dandelion might envy geralt for being his epic journeys alone, but realizes how lonely such a life can be), thus they learn from each other, admire the other a little more and understand their needs (they both need someone to speak to), and are more satisfied with themselves and their own lives

we really learn very little about dandelion’s life in canon, so i want to explore his profession and found family in other musicians, and the backstory of things he did before he met geralt / when he and geralt were separate and geralt was elsewhere, i.e. what the hell did dandelion get up to in the four years that geralt was chilling in vengerberg. thats four years and dandelion gets into a LOT of trouble.......... relating to the themes of independence and family i think because at some point id like to have geralt and dandelion compare their backstories. id like for a lot of this foolery to come back to bite dandelion in the ass... 

also at some point we gotta face why dandelion doesnt hold a relationship with any woman for more than 0.2 seconds but literally has known and been with geralt for SO long that it his canonical age can’t possibly make sense

i would like for geralt to eventually say something in his own words or thoughts about the topic that yennefer brought up in BOE (”you were with him, thanks to you, he wasn’t alone.”) and also dandelion expressing guilt for having to be rescued... mamma mia these are some big relationship issues that need to be addresses

towards the end of the saga i think it would be important for them to address how their roles have changed in each other’s lives and idk you know couples redo their marriage vows sometimes? geralt and dandelion just need to like go to gulet again i think after LOTL (because its not like anyone died or anything in LOTL)

[pestopascal]

im saying this about witcher bc idk who to romance real talk all i wanna do is play gwent and get drunk in game and irl

like the games wipe away a lot of the bad stuff as far as what triss and yen and geralt all did and keeps it rly rosy, never mind you spend two whole games with triss and in witcher 2 you can romance her completely with that rose of rememberance part and then they step in like. yeehaw here’s yen! we haven't given u anything about her :) but she's geralt’s tru lov we swear :) and then u remember the books as well and how they do small shout outs here and there in game but like. the characters are rewritten just enough to kind of make u also forget the bad stuff that exists on everyone’s behalf

[lux-mentis]

sam @ewdavids tagged me to answer some Qs (thanks my dude 👍)

nickname: nothing consistent, but a few ppl call me hani

star sign: cancer

height: 5’0”

last film i watched: rewatched into the spiderverse bc it’s great™

fave musician: bastille, hozier, hayley kiyoko, pvris, patd!

song stuck in my head: get up by mother mother

other blogs: only active one is my witcher blog lol

do i get asks: not often on my main

blogs following: somewhere in the 600s

dream job: neurologist; if that fails, icelandic sheep herder

what i’m wearing: a black blouse w/ zebras on it

dream trip: edinburgh, scotland

play any instruments: just piano, & barely lmao. i can still read music at least

language: english

fave food: is it lame to say soup? probably but it’s tru

fave song: n/a there are too many bops to account for

random fact: i dislike bread

tagging: @wishingformemoria & @hauntedspacekiwi if y’all wanna~

[inexchangeforyoursoul]

*watching friend play Witcher 2*

Me: this Iorweth guy is an asshole

Also me: so is everyone else though

Me: tru

Me 30 minutes later: and also kinda pathetic

Also me: you are a sucker for flawed characters

Me: touche

Also me at the end of the stream: ...he’s also kinda hot

Me: 

[trulycertain]

Ah yes, my favourite thing about this game: Geralt’s “...Seriously?!” face.

[richard-of-windoor]

@kittyyaoi sadly I have to reply this way but!!! It's tru tho!! I feel empty sort of without it but the weird thing is I never bring it to cons (mostly Bc it's big so I'm scared of it getting stolen). It's supposed to be back in 1-2 days and hopefully it'll actually work like it should for once. Also it was under warranty still so I didn't have to drop cash at least I plan on playing PlayStation tho s o Its not like I can't do anything. Also my mom offered me her laptop but it's a Mac and old and slow ://///// I plan on playing witcher 3 tonight and I am excite 😎😎😎😎😎

[entergamingxp]

The Cuphead Show New Footage Revealed by Netflix

June 26, 2020 11:14 AM EST

Netflix’s The Cuphead Show has made one of its first new appearances since being revealed one year ago.

Did you remember that an animated TV show based on the Cuphead video game was currently being created over at Netflix? Well, I sure as heck didn’t until Netflix opted to unveil some more footage and information on the series today.

Shared on Netflix’s social channels this morning, the streaming giant offered a brief new look at The Cuphead Show. Created using the same throwback animation style that the game is known for, The Cuphead Show looks to follow the franchise’s titular character and his brother, Mugman, as they get into all kinds of trouble.

In addition to showing some new concept art and snippets from the show itself, Netflix also unveiled some of the voices behind the characters in this new video, too. Tru Valentino will serve as the voice of Cuphead himself while Frank Todaro will play Mugman. As for other characters that will appear in The Cuphead Show, we also got some brief looks at King Dice, Elder Kettle, and the Devil as well.

Take an inside peek at the intricate, nostalgic design of The Cuphead Show! pic.twitter.com/EF0kpAi973

— NX (@NXOnNetflix) June 26, 2020

All in all, what Netflix has shown of the series so far looks quite promising. The art style seems to be just as captivating and charming as what was seen in the video game when it launched a few years back. If The Cuphead Show ends up reaching the same level of quality as Netflix’s other video game-based projects like The Witcher and Castlevania, then it seems like this show could be worth getting quite excited about.

The Cuphead Show still doesn’t have a release date, but Netflix claims that it’s “coming soon.” Hopefully, this means we’ll be able to binge the entire series sooner rather than later.

June 26, 2020 11:14 AM EST

from EnterGamingXP https://entergamingxp.com/2020/06/the-cuphead-show-new-footage-revealed-by-netflix/?utm_source=rss&utm_medium=rss&utm_campaign=the-cuphead-show-new-footage-revealed-by-netflix

[trulycertain]

OK, so post-Dettlaff fight, I feel like there’s a very important dialogue option we didn’t get. I love the idea that vampires are basically alien eldritch abominations crammed badly into a humanoid suit (or, even better, that they have many forms all at once). And after seeing Dettlaff... uh... 

I do wish there was an option to turn to the Higher Vampire mate you're having a drink with and have known for years and go, "So... awkward question: can you do that? Is that what you look like when you're not making me moonshine?"

I just... considering how much Geralt winces and Regis goes "ahem, bit personal, but you’re all right, I’ll try to answer" on the recovering-blood-addiction chat... this would be an amazing level of awkward. I need to see it. 

"Geralt... you don't just ask to see your friend naked."

[trulycertain]

Regis: a) is baffled by humans a lot of the time b) wants to talk to ravens and is defensive about how they’re very intelligent creatures c) has five million books

...Same, fella.

[trulycertain]

Headcanons about Corvo Bianco:

Geralt's never actually had a house before. Not properly, aside from a brief period of living in the same vicinity with Yen. It's still all kind of a trip for him. Yeah, he’s wintered at Kaer Morhen and that’ll always on some level be home, but that was a freezing-half-the-time castle with a bunch of witchers. He’s used to being in other people’s houses - sometimes with friends, more often with clients shooing him hastily out of the door. Inns don’t count.

He’s really, seriously not used to having a house of his own. He was on contracts anyway and constantly on the road, in the first times after he got given the vineyard, but he also tried to avoid the place for a little while to get used to it, until he could get his head round it and come back. He’s still on the road a lot even after, and when he does sleep at Corvo Bianco, he keeps expecting to wake up and see the stars above him. Takes him a few months, while renovating it “just in case” and half-expecting to get it taken from him or have to sell it on - he’s used to rulers running him out of countries by now when contracts go wrong - to think of it as a home. 

To be honest, he’s not used to owning much, in general. He always has to pack light for the road, and other than the functional stuff that he can take pride in - horse, weapons, armour, relevant or enjoyable books - he only has a few mementos. He realises this when he’s trying to fill the place.

Geralt would sleep on a rock floor in a leaky hut (and has); his first priority was getting Roach a nice stable. But he couldn’t do that until there were storerooms and materials, and the majordomo said the general refurb was important, so he left that to B.B. and got to it the minute he could.

Similarly, his second thought when he saw the upstairs room was, “Shit, Ciri can’t visit me and stay in this.”

And his first action when he realised he had a local painting merchant was to get the sulking-in-a-frilly-dress picture of Ciri and try not to grin at it. And he kept the painting of Olgierd and Iris, but “Starry Night Over the Pontar River” is hung up in the house, in Iris’ memory and because he was a Van Rogh fan even before he met her. He also put the “glamour shoot” pinup painting in the dining alcove, so as to cheerfully put guests off their food. (It’s not like he has that many guests anyway. And hey, it’s a conversation piece.)

He enjoyed the tourney, even if he spent a bit of time being bemused by Toussaint customs. He hung up the armour and the shield, because they crack him up a little. He’s far from a heralded knight, but it was... fun to be someone else for a day.

He respects the majordomo. He knows the pain of working for someone with impossible demands, so he's trying not to suck. The other reason he leaves so much to B.B. is, to paraphrase: "You actually know things about this. I can kill any monsters and tell you how much of the heraldic weapons will actually work, can you do the rest and I'll make sure the duchess pays you through the nose?"

B.B., meanwhile, is utterly bemused by the weird Nordling who calls him “B.B.,” but comes to really like the Witcher. And occasionally asks him questions about disposing of drowners, and about some of the wilder stories he’s heard, once they know each other well enough. They’re dry and they make each other laugh. Ciri also thinks B.B. is pretty damn great and likes him for never patronising her dad, the weird scruffy foreigner who was baffled by Toussaint half the time.

Geralt talks to Marlene, tries to help her out when she’s working (very occasionally, and much to her protests, and he usually gets shooed away instead). When he manages, he tries to not get in the way (she gives the orders, strictly, and he’s good with a knife; the rest he leaves to her). Sometimes he’ll bring her back recipes from his travels and they’ll discuss them. He finds a scrapbook in the kitchen, eventually, where she’s been keeping recipes found and devising her own. B.B. tends to send word ahead if Geralt’s sighted on the road so they can prepare. She won’t get scandalised if he shows up to a hot meal in armour and covered in zeugl slime, and Geralt’s grateful for it.

The vineyard lives up to its name; there are hooded crows and the rare albino crow around it on the regular. Takes a while for Geralt to stop feeling like they’re  a bad omen, after so long on battlefields, but he gets used to it. They also tend to herald Regis’ arrival just a little before he visits, so that becomes a new, better association.

He really does like Corvo Bianco wine. He’s surprised but pleased at this realisation when he finally has half a second to sit down and try it. There’s also some of Regis’ finest hooch in the cellar. Also, White Wolf is dry, but flavourful and with a depth to it.