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write-ur-wrongs · 10 months

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Stayaway

In an attempt to get out of funk, here is a very short, not edited, written-directly-into-tumblr, song-inspired grealt x reader fic. Inspired by Stayaway by MUNA (the best band in the world, begging y'all to listen to their music you will be forever changed!!).

*********

"Come on! I know you're home, I followed you!"

The bard was yelling and banging on your door incessantly and you knew you had to answer eventually. The bastard followed you home after all, he knows where you live.

"I'm not home!" you shouted back, delusional.

"Y/N! I may be a fool but I'm not stupid," he replied, and you could hear the familiar smile pulling at his lips, "Now open up! The door and your heart!"

"Jask," you sighed, laughing despite yourself at his poetic antics, "go away!"

"No! I miss you!"

"I'm not home!" you tried again, will wavering.

"Y/N!" he pleaded, and you swore you could hear half that cursed smile pull down into a pout.

You rested your forehead against the door and bit your lip, debating. All the while, your hand betrayed you, reached for the doorknob and turned it open.

Before you knew it, you were face to face with an old friend and while the sight of him filled you with joy, you were also flooded with other, less welcome feelings of remembrance.

"Y/N!" he exclaimed, pushing himself into your home and saving you from dwelling on the heavy memories that tried to creep up over you. "You're home, what are the odds?"

"Hilarious as always, Jaskier," you said, closing the door behind him. "What brings you to my little hamlet?"

"Fate, chance, what have you," he said, his cheery demeanor working overtime to cover for his abject curiosity, "The sea called and I had to answer. You know how it is."

"I do, do I?"

"Don't you? I mean you just disappeared... I assumed something called and you, you know, answered?" His tone stayed light, the practiced levity of someone who's spent years buttering people up for information all while staying neutral.

"I guess..." you bit your cheek, busying yourself by playing hostess, and pouring you both a glass of wine, "things changed and I thought, 'hell, why not change too?'"

"Fair enough... oh thank you."

"Of course," you said, taking a sip of wine yourself before guiding you both towards your couch, "but seriously Jaskier, why are you here?"

"Seriously? I was just passing through on my way to Oxenfurt when I saw a familiar face. A face I thought I'd never see again..."

You looked up from your glass then, but immediately regretted it when you met the bard's earnest gaze.

"Yennefer thought she saw you in Novigrad a while back but then... nothing. We thought you were gone for good."

"Jaskier, come on," you pleaded, praying he wouldn't elaborate on who 'we' entailed, while another, less disciplined part of you hoped for the opposite. Maybe if you knew he missed you, maybe if you knew he was looking for you... maybe you could let yourself be found.

No!

"Don't shake your head at me, Y/N. You disappear from the city, you quit your job, no one has seen you at the pub, the library - anywhere!"

"I- I know... but Jask," you stammered, trying to start three sentences at once and fumbling them all.

"I mean, you loved your job, didn't you? And what about us?" he asked, voice cracking slightly. "Gods, was the breakup that bad?"

"The thing is, Jask," you sputtered between large sips of wine, "It wasn't. It was easy, actually. He did what he always does when we fight; scowl, shut down, turn away, and then take it out on our friends. The break was clean."

"If it was so clean, then why did you leave?"

"It's the rest of it! The, the staying away that was, is impossible. If I had stayed and kept going it out with you guys, we'd drink and dance and I'd wonder where he is. Or one moment I'd be at the library studying and the next, Yen be asking me about the breakup and trying to 'cheer' me up by bringing up the good times and next thing you know? I'm answering the door for him when he rolls back into town injured and brooding. I couldn't stand it! I- I couldn't risk it."

"That's -"

"Pathetic? I know."

"No! No, but if there were so many good times, so many reasons to go back then why not-"

"Damn it, Jaskier! This is why I had to leave." You said, gesturing between the two of you before dropping your hand on your lap with a smack. "If I let him back in, then he's not the man who broke my heart anymore. Not the one who told me I was overemotional for being worried when he'd disappear for months. Suddenly everything is fine... until it's not and I'm hurt and alone again."

You felt tears begin to prick the back of your eyes and shoved the heel of your palms into them to force them down.

"Hey... Y/N," Jaskier said, gently pulling your hands away from your eyes and taking them in his. "I'm sorry, I didn't know..."

"It's okay," you said, giving your friends hands a squeeze and looking up to the ceiling, letting your tears fall for a moment, "I'm okay."

"Y/N..."

"Oh alright, but I'll be okay," you amended, laughing at yourself lightly and wiping the tears away. "Jaskier, don't look so sad. I just need time, space, distance... I will be fine."

Your words had little effect on your friend though, who seemed to grow more anxious and sad with every passing moment. You quirked your brow at him and shoved his shoulder playfully, trying to break the mood.

"Jaskier, will you relax?" you asked, desperate to get him to smile now. You really had missed Jaskier and now that he was here, you realized how much you wanted him to stick around.

"Y/N, I'm really sorry." He whispered, refusing to meet your gaze.

You were about to try another lighthearted quip when you heard a knock at your door. Not someone knocking, just a knock. One quick but deliberate rap.

"Who...?" you heard yourself asking, even though you only ever knew one person who knocked on doors like that.

"Y/N, I'm so so sorry," Jaskier kept repeating. "I really didn't know. I never would have told him if I'd known."

Your mouth was bone dry but you couldn't get your hand to reach for your glass of wine. You just kept staring at Jaskier, watching him babble.

"I'll go tell him to leave, Y/N, I'm so sorry," you heard him say, his voice barely registering over the ringing in your ears.

You felt him get up off the couch, your blurred vision registering the now empty spot on the couch only after you heard your door be pulled open.

Every fiber of your being was on fire. You were frozen. You wanted to throw yourself on the floor. You wanted to run to him.

"Y/N..." you heard him say. Fuck he sounded sad. You wanted to hold him, tell him it'll be okay. You wanted to slam the door in his face. You forgive him. You'll never forgive yourself.

Against your better judgement, you felt yourself to turn look towards the front door and your breath caught when you saw him.

Gods above, you thought, he should have stayed away.

#geralt of rivia #the witcher netflix #geralt x reader #the witcher fanfiction #fanfiction #geralt of rivia x reader #the witcher series #the witcher x reader #witcher fanfiction #the witcher fic #muna #song fic #one shot #angst #jaskier fanfic #dandelion

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johannestevans · 4 days

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The thing that's so funny about geralt and dandelion is that dandelion likes to straddle that man and go "why are you feeling sorry for yourself?"

And geralt, feeling sorry for himself, is like "I'm NOT feeling sorry for myself!"

And then dandelion sucks him off ♥️

I love how nenneke is like "i don't know why you're friends with him, you have nothing in common" and then seconds later geralt and dandelion are bonding over how they have similar taste in booze and studies

The thing about geralt that's funny and tragic in turn is that he's got so many scruples even though he tries so hard to be neutral and hard the way he was taught and obviously he feels very deeply

And a lot of the time he's actually surprisingly straightforward about the beauty or hope he sees in the world? People get distracted by how grumpy he seems or how flat and disaffected his face and voice seem

But he TELLS people a lot of this outright

He wants to kiss yennefer in front of everyone at the party. He turns into pretty women and admires fine clothing even though he doesn't want to wear it. He loves his horse and he loves food and drink and he loves good company - and despite his cynicism he carries hope in him

And he doesn't actually hide that from most people… EXCEPT dandelion. Dandelion he often puts on this pretense of being a lot grumpier than he is. Dandelion has to lecture him about learning about the world or seeing the beauty in it even tho geralt normally DOES that

and the reason is twofold

Partly is because geralt enjoys dandelion making a fool of himself trying to teach geralt things and getting corrected by passers by

But also like. If they were BOTH sincere, it would get Too Intense Very Quickly

And i think it's delightful that like. People have this idea of dandelion as extremely fake because he's a fop or because he talks a lot or because he's obsessed with himself, but he genuinely is tremendously sincere - he genuinely does love everything, especially himself

But with geralt dandelion is at his MOST cynical, because it's not really a performance of a particular act, it's more a specific performance of his own personality for someone who knows and loves him well, rather than performing songs or stories or bardic tradition

And in contrast, geralt, who is generally a quite straightforward and honestly emotive man - albeit in the (cough autistic cough) Mutant way he is, abstracts a lot of his feelings and feigns more ignorance and cynicism than he has in dandelion's company

With yen geralt is honestly agonisingly sincere in a way that yen often has no idea what to do with, and the tragedy w them both is that they both feel with such immensity that both of them struggle to put the depth of their feelings for one another into words

It's not that his intimacy with dandelion is free of that struggle, but like. Yen strips right through his attempts to play it cool, whereas dandelion normally plays into them.

And thats why their threesomes are so good

#musings #witcher books #geralt of rivia #dandelion #the last wish

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holylulusworld · 6 months

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Broken Rose (2)

Summary: He may have stolen your kingdom and freedom – but he’ll never own your heart. Right?

Pairing: Alpha!Geralt of Rivia x Queen(Omega)!Reader

Warnings: angst, mentions of forced/arranged marriage trope, a/b/o, magic, mentions of character’s death

Broken Rose masterlist

Broken Rose (1)

“You won’t walk away from me like that, omega!” Geralt calls after you. He’s walking faster to catch up with you. “I told you to stop.”

“You conquered these lands, and the castle, but I am still the queen of this kingdom. Someone must look out for the people who are not under your spell! The knights only listen to your command and don’t care for my people any longer.”

“I did not say that.” Geralt’s features darken. “Your knights follow their usual routine. The only difference is that I forced them to accept me as their king and alpha.”

“You promised me to free them!” You twirl around to glare at Geralt. “You lied! Just like back then, you lied!”

“I did not lie back then!” He yells back. “I wanted to court you! I asked your father for your hand, and the honor to claim you. I wasn’t good enough!”

“You’re a liar! I know you left to whore around with that witch,” you sneer at him. “What was her name?”

“This doesn’t…” He grits his teeth. “I was with her to gain more powers. It was the only way! She meant nothing to me!”

“She meant enough to you to fuck her!” You raise your voice, and walls start to shake. “Do not lie to me!”

“What are you doing?” Geralt watches you with darkened eyes. “Stop this! I will force you into submission if you don’t stop angering me.”

“Yennefer, that was her name,” you step closer to Geralt to run your hand over his chest. He follows the motion, wondering what you are up to. “Did you never question her disappearance?”

You laugh darkly when his stoic mask slips for a moment. Worry flashes in his eyes for a second. “Y/N, stop talking about the past.”

“Did she mean so little to you that you don’t care if she’s dead or alive?” You coo the words, a smile on your lips. “Did you not call her your love too?” You lean closer to whisper in his ear. “Or did you lie to her too?”

“How’d you find out about Yennefer?” He watches you walk around the room, fingertips sliding over the bust of your father. “Y/N! How did you find out about her?”

Geralt raises his voice. Yennefer was close to winning his heart over. He almost forgot about his plan to get you back and take over your kingdom.

She was a sly witch. Yennefer enchanted him with her beauty and magic, almost breaking his resolve to never give his heart to anyone else.

“Father,” you place your hand onto the bust, tapping your fingers. “I pleaded with him. One last time I tried to convince him that a bond between you and me would strengthen our kingdom.”

“I don’t understand.”

“I can be very convincing,” you push the bust off its rightful place, watching it crack into two halves. “Father was almost convinced.” You dip your head and smirk. “That was, of course, until he found out about your wench.”

“I—” He swallows thickly. Geralt you can be hard, and unforgiving. “What did you do?”

“I accepted a bond with his friend’s son, a prince,” you walk toward the next bust showing your father at a younger age. “A nasty man who only wanted one thing.” This time you punch the bust, making it tumble and fall to the ground.

“Let me guess,” Geralt steps toward the next bust. He gently runs his hand over it, admiring the handiwork. “He wanted to tame you.”

“All men want to tame a woman,” you step next to Geralt to look at the bust of your younger self. “He’s not alone.”

“…and they failed. One, after another,” Gerald muses. “Like your knights when they tried to stop me. They fell. One, by one, by one.”

“They didn’t fall,” you snap and turn your attention toward the last bust. The one they made shortly before your father passed away. “You used your magic. This has nothing to do with strength or talent.”

“Strength, talent, magic,” he shrugs while circling you like prey. “It doesn’t matter, Y/N. In the end, they were weak and let it happen. You on the other hand,” his eyes glow when he looks at you again. “Still nothing. I cannot enchant you with my powers. Even if I wanted to.”

You cock your head, mirroring his smirk. “Did you ever wonder why?”

“Your will is too strong,” he replies. “You inherit a different kind of magic deep within your soul. A magic so strong that it cannot be broken by my powers.

“Back to your lover,” you push against the last bust, watching it shatter on the ground. “Do you miss her?”

“Y/N let’s not talk about the past. We have a future to build. I want these lands to grow and blossom. At the moment, it’s rotten and not fruitful.”

“Like your seed,” you smirk darkly, knowing about the price Geralt paid for his powers. “It’s rotten, just like your wench’s womb. Isn’t it?”

“What happened to her?” Geralt watches you caress your mother’s bust. “Y/N, what happened to her?”

“She paid the price for conspiring with my father to make me forget about you,” you chuckle darkly. “Imagine her surprise when her powers did nothing for her. She was powerless while facing me.”

“She conspired with your father. This cannot be true,” he shakes his head. Geralt is proud of his sharp mind, and his talent to see through any lie. “No.”

You kiss your mother’s bust and sigh. While she was still around, your father was a different man. He would’ve never tricked you into marrying another man than Geralt.

“I was surprised too, Geralt. I heard rumors and believed you simply found a better mate,” your voice cracks. “Imagine my surprise when the very same woman came to collect on my wedding day.”

“Wedding day?” Geralt gasps. “No. You’re not married! You’re my queen, no one else’s!”

“I didn’t say I got married,” you chuckle darkly as you grab his hand to place it onto your heart. “Can you feel this? This heart got broken one too many times. I’ve had enough and took matters into my hands.”

“Y/N, what did you do?”

“What had to be done,” you hold his hand in a tight grip. “He denied me my future so…”

“So…” Geralt furrows his brows, already knowing he answer.

“I took his…”

Tags in reblog.

#geralt of rivia #geralt of rivia x reader #a/b/o #alpha!geralt of rivia x omega!reader #royal au #Broken Rose (2)#the witcher fanfiction #geralt of rivia x you

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hanzajesthanza · 7 months

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a lot of the “haha geralt is so annoyed by his friends!!” talk reduces the relationship of geralt & co. to the events of baptism of fire—baptism of fire geralt is very enjoyable to read, but lady of the lake geralt is the final evolution of a beautiful development of character. we really ought to talk more often about how his relationship with his company developed over the next two books and how by the end of it, he felt entirely responsible for their fates.

it can’t really be said that the hanza didn’t mean a lot to geralt and he would have chosen ciri & yen over them no problem. by the end of it he really valued their friendship and company. he literally identified himself as their leader, embraced his role as their leader. only with their company, he was finally able to fully ascended to what he is at heart and who he was meant to be, what his character was created to be: a hero.

he never liked to play sacrificial games. the entire reason he shunned (the majority of) the company (sorry cahir, he took extra issue with you) was that it was too dangerous of an undertaking, and he did not want to risk the lives of anyone else for his personal matters, sticking their necks out for him. it wasn’t just because he’s an old grump and sourpuss—he literally tells this to dandelion and milva multiple times, that he doesn’t want them dying because of him.

he decided against anything that would have put milva in danger when she was pregnant, refusing to risk her life or her unborn child’s life—remaining adamant that he would not sacrifice her child’s life for his own. and similarly when codringher presented him the hypothetical of pawning a decoy girl off on emhyr, he was disgusted at the thought of trampling the life of some innocent girl for the safety of his own.

virtuous to a fault, geralt abhors stepping on another to lift himself up. he won’t even kill innocent creatures to make a quick buck—they have to be real dangers—which, of course, makes him not only poorer and hungrier, but fighting, you guessed it, more dangers. this makes geralt unlike many of the other characters we’re presented with, who, even though they may not want to, agree to make sacrifices for their personal interests or the greater good (though, what’s the difference—the lodge and emhyr called their personal interests the greater good. that’s a big point of how the decisions of those in power is deconstructed in the saga).

i don’t think geralt would have sacrificed his company, given a choice.

but he did choose, of course, despite not being given a choice. it was a necessary sacrifice, though geralt, being the man he is, would never have made such a choice given the option (like the trolley problem—he’s impossible, he would continue to insist that neither of these choices are good and he doesn’t want to choose). i don’t want to kill either shrike or stregobor, i don’t want to take a side in the war, i don’t want to ride to cintra and claim my destiny. the whole saga is about how no matter if you decide to choose or not to choose, destiny still makes you choose. even if you think you can deny and avoid the choice. and after such denial, it stops asking you nicely. death dogs his footsteps, but death couldn’t catch up with him (for a while, at least), so it had to settle for others… the hanza are another, perhaps a final, manifestation of this lesson—calanthe and cintra being the first victims.

he and cahir dragged milva’s dead and bleeding body to safety, risking their own lives in the hail of arrows which rose again once she had fallen. his noble and virtuous heart still looked for cahir and angoulême in the corridor after the fighting had ceased, waiting for them to come out of the empty hall, before ciri shook her head to tell him no one would be coming down it. his scream rung in the air with regis’ as regis was being torn apart. and he, in pain and exhausted, remembered him, to yennefer when she asked, as a friend, and managed to utter some beautifully kind words in his memory.

i don’t think someone like geralt (feeling responsible for deaths of innocents whether they’re even his fault or not) would ever truly get over the loss of his company. after having, with ciri, buried them, by the foot of stygga castle, having to drag the bodies out one by one, close their glassy eyes, mound the wet and cold earth over them. and regretfully glance back at the melted stone column he cannot bury. he was woefully dreary after stygga, and kept returning to their memory as they retraced their steps into the sansretour valley. reminding himself about the sword of destiny with two edges… and again at rivia mourning them with the dwarven company.

we can at least sigh with relief that destiny allowed him to keep dandelion. it had to, because he is just, after all “like a burr on a dog’s tail”—destiny did not quite manage to slip its noose around his neck, for he did not touch destiny, but instead tagged alongside it. (plus, the cameraman never dies). if dandelion died, it would have broken geralt well and truly. it was the longest and deepest connection he ever had. the same goes for the reverse, of course 😬

#the witcher books #the elbow-high diaries #c: geralt #f: a hansa’s a hansa #kind of a stream of consciousness thing 🫠 not really coherent but just some thoughts #analysis #book: lady of the lake

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ammarettu · 12 days

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Flash fic #2

"A monster is not such a terrible thing to be."

It feels like a part of him is cracked open, the way Jaskier gazes at him with such sadness, such softness. There's an ocean in those eyes that Geralt doesn't dare explore.

Oh, he could dive in, but he knows that he would drown. Even without his armour weighing him down, he's almost certain he would sink into those aquamarine depths - Gods, how he wants to.

It's the want that gets him. It hurts in a way nothing has hurt before, made all the worse by that look that Jaskier is giving him - knowing and raw and broken.

"Geralt," the bard, his bard, his friend, breathes, "Please look at me."

I am, he wants to say. I see you.

"I -" he swallows, licks his lips, keeps his gaze locked on the floor where it's ended up, "Can't."

"I don't understand," Jaskier's hand clenches into a fist, unclenches, "Is it- did I do something?"

"No," Geralt hastens to say, because he didn't. It's not Jaskier, it's never Jaskier, "It- You're-" his shoulders hunch, muscles tense, every line of his body rigid, "Perfect."

Jaskier huffs a disbelieving little laugh, self-depricating in a way that makes Geralt hate himself anew because he's the reason this man thinks so little of himself. It's Geralt's cruel words and attitude that have made Jaskier a timid shadow of who he once was.

"So then," he continues once he's composed himself, "You think you're not good enough for me, is that it?" It's said in a jovial way, meant as a joke, until Geralt holds his gaze on the floor and Jaskier's posture goes from defensive and hurt to sad and sympathetic very quickly.

"Oh, love," he mutters, and Geralt closes his eyes against the force of it.

"I'm a monster," he reminds him, "You shouldn't- it's not right."

"Dear heart," Jaskier whispers, Geralt hears him shuffle closer, feels his hand cup his cheek and tilt his head up. He keeps his eyes resolutely shut despite the tears he can feel starting to cling to his lashes. Jaskier's thumb swipes over his cheek, just below his eye, "A monster is not such a terrible thing to be."

Arms, muscular but so gentle, so warm, slip around his shoulders, pull him close. He buries his face in Jaskier's neck despite himself, searching for comfort in the ink-paper-rosin scent that clings to his doublet.

"How can you say that?" Geralt croaks out eventually.

Jaskier's fingers, light and gentle, find their way into Geralt's hair, leaving warm trails of what feels like hope in his wake.

"Everyone is monstrous in their own ways, darling. Do you think when I saw you with-" He sucks his teeth and Geralt knows he is thinking of Yennefer, "Others, that I do not feel so jealous I wish to set the forests ablaze?"

"That's different," Geralt insists, because it is.

"Is it? You believe you are monstrous for what? Because you made choices you regret? Because your feelings overwhelm you and you lash out? Darling," he lifts Geralt's head from his shoulder, more forcefully bringing their eyes to meet this time, "There is nothing more human."

#witcher #witcher fanfiction #geraskier #my writing #geralt x jaskier #the witcher

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chaosandorder46 · 1 month

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Master fic list

I decided it was time to make a master list. 🤷‍♀️

Witcher

Tissaia/Yennefer centric

1. I’m OK, You’re OK (6108 words; uni AU)- Tissaia's anxiety is not under control. Yennefer totally gets it, and Triss is a therapist, because of course, she is.

2. And Then There Were Three (26,290 words; domestic fluff)-Tissaia and Yennefer are happily married, and want a child to complete their family. The process won't be easy, but they have each other and their ride or die friend group. Some fluff, some angst, and shenanigans arise on their journey.

3. Self Control (1,149 words; fluff and smut)- Dr. Tissaia de Vries has legendary self control. Unless Yennefer of Vengerberg is in the room.

4. Come to my Office, Please (3,123 words; Eventual smut)-A private message gets sent to the entire group and puts a series of events into action.

5. Stars Fell on Aretuza (1,210 words; hurt/comfort)-It's the first Ascension Ball since the Thanedd Coup, and the first in decades not coordinated by Tissaia de Vries.

6. You Mistake the Stars (31,647 words; whump)- Yennefer saw Vilgefortz as a way to get off of the pig farm, but ended up in a worse situation. When she casts an errant portal and ends up on the Isle of Thanedd, she meets a cast of characters that will change her life.

7. Such a Good Turkey (2,606 words, crack fic)- It's close to Thanksiving on The Continent and no one has any chill.

8. I Might Love You More than Coffee (46,484 words; fluff)- Yennefer is intrigued by a mysterious new regular at her coffee shop, The Lodge. I'm no barista, so I'm relying on my extensive coffee consumption experience for the details on this one.

9. Le Tits Now! (3,939 words; crack fic)-It's the holiday season and everyone is in various states of festiveness. Shenanigans to follow...

10. And I Swear My Breath Turned Silver the Day Your Hair Did (4,942 words; angst with a happy ending)-I've never really written a real fix it for the Thanedd Coup before. I pretty much just ignore it by writing modern AUs or insinuate that everything turned out ok.

This is a somewhat canon compliant (until it's not) fix it for the Thanedd Coup fall out. I've had it in progress for a while and seem to be having trouble working on my other fic until this one is done.

11. What’s Lost is not Lost…Keep Looking! (1,380 words; crack fic)-Ciri's beloved stuffy is missing. Tissaia and Yen are ready to go all Liam Neeson from Taken, but the answer may be closer than they think.

12. Now the Air I Tasted and Breathed (Has Taken a Turn) (WIP; angst with a happy ending)-Ok, so....remember the musical episode of Grey's Anatomy (Song beneath the song)? Um...this is the Witcher version of that. Kind of, though (in my imagination) the characters aren't singing, it's just a montage of scenes with the song playing. If you aren't familiar with Black by Pearl Jam, listening is a good pre-reading activity. :)

13. How did we get THIS way? (3,933 words; crack treated seriously) - An alternate version of Rinde if Tissaia had shown up a bit later. OR...Tissaia de Vries accidentally crashes an orgy.

14. Nothing Sweeter Than a Bitter Cup of Coffee (13,681 words; light angst and crack)-More coffee shop shenanigans ensue when Rita shares some news with Tissaia.

15. More Indelible than Ink (WIP, fluff)- Tissaia is the proprietor of deVries Ink and Paper Shop and leads a very quiet, normal life...that is until a stunning raven-haired tattoo artist walks into her store.

Sabrina/Triss centric

1. The Kids are Alright (5,399 words; mutual pining)-Sabrina breaks her arm badly teaching novices non-magical self defense. Rita and Triss help her and Triss uses her chaos. The healer becomes the patient and Rita is sick of their shit.

2. Downtime (1,034 words, PWP?)- Sabrina's office has a network downtime and she needs something (or someone) to do.

3. What We Lost at Sodden (8,858 words; hurt/comfort)- This is another Sodden Hill story with a focus on Sabrina and Rita's experiences. I feel like Sabrina was too OK, too soon after Sodden, and I would love to have seen more of Rita's experience being charged with holding down the fort, knowing her friends were fighting for, and losing their lives.

4. The Things I Regret (2,036 words; hurt/comfort)- Written on the the one year anniversary of my mom's death. We had a very complicated relationship and I've been surprised at how I've felt since she died, vs. how I thought I would feel. I also had lunch recently with a friend who has gone no-contact with her mother due to her refusal to acknowledge her childhood trauma. These human experiences are always so interesting to me...if a bit painful. So, why not write about it? 😁

So, once again poor Sabrina gets to be a stand in for therapy. I mainly chose her because of her conduit moment, we know she has some issues there. 😁

5. Put Out the Fire in Your Head and Lay With Me Tonight (2,226 words; fluff and smut)-Sabrina is exhausted and stressed. Triss helps her relax. This is all fluff with a little bit of smut and nearly no plot. Just like I like to write. 😈😍

6. Burnout (10,501 words; hurt/comfort)-Sabrina is burnt out and coping as only Sabrina can, which is to say, not at all.

7. Aretuza (Be Sure to Wear Flowers in Your Hair) (1,465 words; tooth rotting fluff)- This is a snapshot of an Aretuza where they all live happily ever after, even if the novices are a bit ...incapable.

8. The world was on fire (and no one could save me but you) (22,760 words; angst with a happy ending)-IMO, this is the angstiest thing I've written, so be warned. None of the major characters die (I could never) but there is some death.

9. The 14th on the Hill (8,985 words; angst with a happy ending)-Another spin on Sodden, but this one pulls from book lore as well as Netflix lore and HCs.

Group shenanigans

1. Icks (1,116 words; crack fic)-Tissaia learns a new term. Everyone shares an ick in their relationship.

2. Triss’s Greenhouse (429 words; crack fic) -Tissaia needs to relax and Triss has something for that.

3. Beige Flags (770 words; crack fic)-Tissaia is slowly learning tik tok. She needs an explanation of beige flags.

4. Another Fic Where Triss is Stoned, but with Pokemon (965 words; crack fic)- This is a crack fic, but based on a real life conversation. No need to take this seriously. :) This is based on a video game called pal world That is essentially a rip off of pokémon... And they have guns.

5. Hanging Around (5,593 words, crack treated seriously)- Ok. I was inadvertently sent on a side quest to tell an important, and very serious story. It is based on the delightful video below which gave me several much needed laughs. This is set in the AUMC universe where Tissaia is a pathologist, Yennefer and Rita work in the hospitals PR department, Triss is a nurse and married to Sabrina, who manages the lab. The slides in question are stained blood and bone marrow which are used to microscopically diagnose blood disorders, such as leukemia. I think that is all the pre-reading needed.🤭

6. After Sodden (29,044 words; modern AU; slow burn?)- Ciri is an environmental activist, but accidentally commits a bit of eco-terrorism. She's now a fugitive and turns to Yennefer for help.This was inspired by a Tumblr prompt...I have taken a LOT of creative liberties here. (Read: I don't follow instructions well).

Wheel of Time

• I (Critically) Care A Lot (7,677 words; Hospital AU)- Moraine and Siuan have a tense working relationship. Or do they?

• You’re Going to Make Me…Late (8,493 words; hospital AU)-Siuan applies for a new job.

• I’d walk to the depths of a world down below (and demand to get back what some circumstance stole) (1,867 words; crack)-Siuan is dead, like...dead dead. And Moiraine has to go to The Underworld to get her back.

#my fics #master list

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ladyannemarie5 · 1 year

Text

So... Remember my old post of WarLord!Geralt searching for the bard and discovering that Jaskier is Radovid's consort in Redania?

You can see it here

Well, I couldn't stop thinking about that and here's just part of what I've come up with so far.

Caution: Lots and lots of text. Almost 2k words.

-----

Geralt's first formal order as Warlord of the North is to search the continent for the bard Jaskier.

Five years have passed since Geralt last saw Jaskier. Five years since the mountain disaster and the day Geralt made the bard believe that the greatest blessing of his life would be to get rid of him.

Since then, Geralt has found his surprise child, resolved his issues with Yennefer and formed a new empire under his and the other witchers' command. And there hasn't been a single moment when he hasn't regretted pushing his bard away.

That is why, as soon as political things settle down and his mainly non-human subjects begin to form real households, the new warlord sends all available people to search for the man who made him White Wolf.

He knows from Yen, that Jaskier became the Sandpiper, so he has the witchers approach the smuggling network to help the refugees get to his new realm and also to gather as much information as they can about the poet's whereabouts.

They hear rumors and whispers about the famous bard Jaskier singing in taverns and famous courts, but every time they reach the last place where he was seen, it turns out that the bard has already departed. It also seems that 20 years at the side of a witcher have made him very good at running away from them without a trace.

Geralt grows more desperate by the day. He wants to apologize to Jaskier, he wants to tell him how sorry he is and how much he wants him to come back to him, because he is finally ready to stop running away from his feelings. He needs Jaskier by his side, either as his lover or simply as his friend. He just needs to know that the poet is safe and sound.

That's why his heartbeat stops for a moment when new information arrives from the bard. It turns out that Nilfgaard beat him to it and captured Jaskier months ago.

Geralt moves all his people to search for the place where the bard is being held prisoner until they finally find the small fort where their sources say he is. Geralt himself leads the attack.

Everyone is really confused when they break through the entrances and discover that there is no one alive there. There are only remnants that there was once a small army operating in the place but they fled some time ago.

Unfortunately, there are also remnants of torture in one of the fort's dungeons. Geralt feels an immense urge to vomit as he enters the place and the smell of Jaskier's blood reaches his nostrils. His eyes sting with tears of anger and sadness when he finds a piece of blue silk in one of the corners. His anger and grief increase when they find a funeral pyre on the outskirts of the site. Jaskier is gone forever.

Shortly thereafter, the University of Oxenfurt issues a statement mourning the death of its greatest teacher and legend, the bard Jaskier. Apparently, a Redanian convoy was on a reconnaissance mission when they found a fort with remnants of Nilfgaard troops. Upon entering they discovered that the soldiers had already left but had left the body of a man in one of the dungeons. One of the men, apparently a fan of the bard, recognized his belongings and alerted his superiors to the man's identity. Jaskier's body was burned by the Redanians due to the advanced state of decomposition. All that remained was a broken elven lute that was given to the university as proof of the poet's death.

Geralt demands that the lute be given to him. Eskel and Lambert are required to hold it when the dean refuses to give the instrument to the witcher on the grounds that Jaskier himself had left them to them in his will. The document firmly states that all of the bard's possessions were to pass to the university to dispose of as they see fit.

Geralt cries for the first time in years when he finds out. Officially, he has nothing left of his bard.

The Sandpiper network continues to operate as usual, at least for a while since the discovery of the fort, until something incredible happens: Redania enacts a new law saying that all elves, dwarves and other non-humans would no longer be persecuted, and could even choose to be legal citizens of Redania.

Years pass since then. Ciri, Yen, Triss and his brother witchers remain by his side and life on the continent continues almost unchanged as the White Wolf finishes consolidating himself as a monarch of a strong and prosperous territory. The hope that Jaskier will one day appear alive and singing about the Warlord every day fades. They hadn't seen the body and when Yen wanted to use a tracking spell with the lute just to make sure, it led to nothing.

And then politics suffers another attack: King Vizimir of Redania is murdered. Yen says that rumors point to his own brother, Prince Radovid, being the one who murdered him, as he was crowned that very night at the side of his lover, a random nobleman named Julian. Geralt does not doubt it. Humans are cruel and ambitious.

The obligatory mourning passes slowly, one day all the kingdoms (except Nilfgaard) are summoned to celebrate the new king and his consort. To the surprise of everyone in Kaer Morhen, the White Wolf and his entourage are invited to the celebrations. Yen and Triss say that it would be rude not to go, as Redania fully recognizes their kingdom unlike other territories, so it would be beneficial for Geralt to attend and seal ties with a kingdom as powerful as Redania.

Geralt wants nothing more than to stay in Kaer Morhen and continue to evade the outside world. Jaskier is no longer in it so there is nothing interesting out there. But he knows it's inevitable that he will attend the Redania celebrations, and Yen is right, it's a great opportunity. So he and his entourage leave for the kingdom.

They are greeted in a grand manner, just like any other monarch and his entourage. Redania has shown that he wants to form ties with Kaer Morhen, so Geralt decides that he will do his best to make it all go well. It seems that King Radovid himself and his consort will welcome them once they have settled in properly.

Geralt feels all the air leave his lungs, his head feels heavy and in turmoil, and he thinks he will burn Redania to the ground for such an offense. Next to King Radovid, stands a man with blue eyes and brown hair. A man resembling Jaskier stands right there, his arm resting on the king's arm.

He introduces himself as Julian Alfred Pankratz, formerly Viscount of Lettenhove, now royal consort to King Radovid.

Yen cannot help but advance to him with a murderous look. He magically probes him and in an icy voice lets them all know that he really is Jaskier, the bard dead years ago. Julian replies that it's really good to see everyone once again.

The welcome feast begins. Geralt can't take his eyes off Jaskier. The king and his consort act like any normal couple, both conversing with each other, together and very intimate. Geralt feels his stomach churn.

At some point in the night, Julian manages to sneak into Geralt's room. He silently asks the Witcher to verify that no one is listening and that there are no traces of magic around. Geralt confirms that they are alone.

Geralt has many questions, but he can't say any. Not with the man he thought was dead in front of him. But he finally gets something out of his mouth, asking for explanations.

Julian tells the witcher that after the mountain he traveled for a while by himself, but seeing the injustices to the elves and other non-humans made him want to do something. With his contacts in the RSS he became the Sandpiper. He would go back and forth from Oxenfurt to other places on the continent to recruit new people into the network. During his stays in Oxenfurt and thanks to Philippa and Dijkstra, he met Prince Radovid.

Geralt's heart breaks when he hears from the bard how lonely and desperate he felt until Radovid came into his life.

"By the time I realized it, I was lost and hopelessly in love with Radovid," he tells Geralt.

The warlord can't help but mention that the bard fell in love with a king-killer. Julian jumps to his consort's defense and tells Geralt everything.

Philippa and Dijkstra want to take Redania to war against Nilfgaard, they assassinated Queen Hedwig to make Vizimir give in to their advice, however, the king didn't. The two councilors then went to harass Jaskier, threatening his job as the Sandpiper to tell them the location of Geralt and Ciri, so they could use it as political leverage against Nilfgaard. Of course the bard refused.

So Jaskier was kidnapped and tortured by Nilfgaard to find out the location of Geralt and Ciri. Radovid, madly in love and worried about Jaskier, set out to look for him everywhere, until he was finally found dying in the fort. Philippa and her magic saved him.

Radovid, concerned for the bard's safety, proposed to him to fake his death in order to drive away all those who were looking for him, including the man who despised him on a mountain. Jaskier accepted on the condition that he stop pursuing the elves.

As the announcement of Jaskier's death shook the entire continent, he and the prince planned to leave the castle and travel together, away from the intrigues of the court. Vizimir, happy for his brother, immediately agreed to let them both leave as long as they accepted his help and communicated constantly. The night of their departure, Vizimir was assassinated.

Geralt is shaken when Jaskier tells him that Philippa and Dijkstra killed Vizimir so they could manipulate Radovid and take Redania to war. The new king is stalling as long as possible, but there is no denying the influence of both advisors on the king's decisions. Geralt snarls when he learns that the sorceress and spymaster are threatening the former bard's life to make Radovid do as they command.

Jaskier knows that Geralt hates him, that he is not complying with the one thing he has asked of him, but he needs him to get Dijkstra and Philippa out of the picture so he can save Redania and his lover from going to war. And so he lets the witcher know.

------

And well, that's it. At least until now.

I want to clarify that anyone who wants to write this has my absolute permission to do so, just tell me so I can read it because I definitely don't think I'll write it myself. If you want to comment on something, another idea, another point, an insult, change something to this. etc., you are welcome to do so. I don't usually reply much but I really do read everything posted on Tumblr.

Thanks if you read all this verbal vomit and apologies once again for the huge amount of words.

#I really wanted to put my version and give my ideas #a lot of text #feel free to take the idea and write it down #just tell me so I can read it #anything is welcome #you decide who jaskier stays with #but to be honest in my heart he stays with Radovid #jaskier #the witcher #radovid #radskier #geraskier #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #bunny plot

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tielmamon · 1 year

Text

Part 2

"Oh- wh- hold on now, thought we were playing for fun?" Jaskier watches Ciri deplete his monitary resources with the sweetest smile, and truly he finds that he doesn't mind.

"I assure you, it truly is a delight taking your coin." He puts on an annoyed face and snatches her cards back just to squeeze another laugh out of her. Gods know this girl needs a bit of levity in her life right now. He wasn't good at a lot of things, realistcally. He's not skilled with a sword, not a pinch of chaos in him, but making people laugh? That he can do.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." He glances at her, honestly more proud than anything else. Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a fiesty spark of a girl turned warrior. He wasn't there for her initial adjustment with Geralt for...obvious reasons but in the years when he was there, he's seen how brave and noble and irrefutably powerful she is. All that hurt and pain turned into pure determination. She's a flame, just like her mother. And most of all, Jaskier sees so much of his best friend in her. Not just the stubbornness to do good or fierce protectiveness over those she loves, but also the little things that make his heart ache. How she holds her sword, how she likes her meat, hell even how she walks. Undoutably a reflection of her parent's love and guidance.

Her parents...

The sharpness in his chest returns. Its strange. Years and years of loving Geralt had eventually reformed his once raging, constantly ready-to-burst love into a calm, surrendered sort of feeling. It's not that his love for the man lessened. On the contrary, every year he feels them grow and evolve into something more. Knowing that heartbreak was inevitable had given him a bittersweet sort of peace. So the pain in his chest that flares whenever he sees Geralt so openly love Yen faded with time, leaving a dull ache in its place.

Until now.

"I'm sorry you're here with me, instead of at the party." Ciri brings him out of his thoughts. He simply shakes his head.

"Oh, I'm not." In all honestly, he was a bit annoyed that everyone and their mother seemed to be invited to this conclave except him but then he remembers Geralt and Yennefer going together. He could only imagine what fancy, no doubt monochromatic outfit Yen would force Geral to wear. Then again, if Yennefer was the one asking he doubts Geralt would protest. Not as much as he would with him, anyway-

He cuts that train of thought before it sends him spiraling. He had worked so hard to keep himself incheck, keep his feelings to a minimum. To not feel, or at the very least look like the lovesick fool he was before.

"Valdo's off key warblng would make my ears bleed." He settles on a believable and admittedly true excuse. Valdo's overdramatic (even for him) vocals are definitely a factor, but he'd rather listen to that noise for days than watch Geralt dance Yennefer across the ballroom with that soft, painfully besotted look on his face. He might actually die of heartbreak if he does.

"Besides, I'm better off here." He smiles at her, reassuredly. He sees the princess sit up straighter, patting the spot beside her. He raises an eyebrow but sits down nontheless.

"Jask?"

"Yes, coin thief?"

"Does he know?" He feels his heartbeat pick up. He's sure than his body is noticibly tenses, judging by how Ciri looks at him like a kicked fucking puppy.

"Does who know what?" He knows what she's asking, because what else could she mean? But like a coward, he deflects. He turns to humor because really, thats his weapon of choice. She looks at him with such a sad look and he knows he's caught.

"Does Geralt know you love him?" Deflect. Run. Don't answer-

"Of course he knows I love him. He's my best friend." He prays that his answer is enough. It seems like it isn't .

"Jaskier." He is still and silent, almost like how the man in question often is. In the end, he finds that he's tired of lying about what he feels. So, he talks.

"I think so, yes. Pretty hard thing to miss after the years of songs and poetry and...well, you get the picture." He sees her face drop, and a certain panic sets in.

"Ciri- listen, I would never ever try and break up your parents, okay? I-I would never do that to your family." He says in a rush, desperate for her to realizes. Because yes, as much as he loves Geralt, he would never jeopardise this. They were quite literally destined to be together, and if Jaskier feels like his chest is being ripped out by a wyvern everytime he sees them then thats his problem, not theirs.

"You're part of this family too, you know." Jaskier has only ever been truly speechless a handful of times in his life. But when he feels her bring him into a hug far nicer than he technically deserves right now, he finds that he can't bring himself to say anything because gods, he wishes it were true. That he was part of this group. This family and not just a stray thread, waiting to be cut off and thrown away once again.

"You're family too." He nods weakly, a few tears spilling from his eyes. Smaller hands, not yet calloused by swords or spells brush a few tears from his cheeks using the blanket. He laughs wetly, complaining how dusty the blanket is, making him cry more which was definitely the real reason and not anything else.

"And I'm not upset at you Jaskier. I'm upset for you. I don't like seeing you hurt like this..." He sees her brows furrow, hands pulling away to clutch the covers. He chuckles, wiping away the rest of his tears.

"Oh, how lucky a man am I. To have such a fierce warrior-witcher-mage princess protecting me." He smiles but her frown doesn't waver. She adjusts herself on the bed to face him properly, laying on her side and slipping a hand to hold his.

"I'm serious Jaskier! You're happiness is important too." He squeezes the hand on top of his, mustering up enough courage to smile.

"My dear, I am happy with what I have now."

"Liar." He gasps, bringing a hand to his heart. She smiles, just a bit and he counts that as a win

"I would never!" He allows himself to breath when he sees her chuckle. He's exhausted, truly. His body feels heavy with the weight of his emotions and physical exhaustion of the day. Still, there is a determined princess cuddled up infront of him with furrowed brows and a sad look on her face that simply cannot wait until morning.

"We do not choose who we love in this lifetime. I didn't choose to fall inlove with my best friend the same way Geralt didn't choose to not reciprocate those feelings. Which is okay, because-...because my love for your father isn't one that seeks a reply. It simple is." Ciri recalls her memories.

Memories from Geralt and her in the woods, running and overwhelmed and terrified. She remembers Geralt telling her stories of his best friend- an obnoxious bard that told the best stories even though they weren't entirely true. The look of guilt and sadness and longing her father suprise had when he told her about him. The few tears she saw him shed behind a crack in the door the night he finally gathered up the courage to apologize to Jaskier for everything. She had never seen him so devastated.

The grin he didn't even bother to hide when Jaskier had offhandedly called him darling when he asked for the salt.

"But what if there is a reply? What if he does love you?" Jaskier shakes his head, looking down to his lap.

We could head to the coast...

Get away for a while...

Composing your next song?

No...No, just trying to work out what pleases me...

Jaskier bears his heart to Geralt on that mountain top. He doesn't breathe, doesn't dare look away. He waits and hopes and gods above, he loves so hard it hurts. Maybe just this once, he'll be enough. Maybe they could run away from this, from everything just for a year. Maybe-

Geralt stands and leaves. Jaskier turns and sees him disappear in Yennefer's tent.

"Darling, that's impossible." He smiles sadly, playing with her fingers. The memory of then mountain and all other instances of him and Geralt replay like an old song. He knew the melody and each lyric by heart by now.

"But Jaskier I've-" Ciri startles when Jaskier’s hand claps with hers loudly and suddenly. Her palm barely stings but she gets the hint to stop talking.

"I have his friendship. I have a-a family apparently, in you and Yen. That is...more than I ever dreamed of having. You all are more than enough for me." Ciri regards him for a moment, staring at him like she's reading his soul. Whatever she sees seems to satisfy- atleast for now, because she sighs and lays a head on his shoulder.

"You too." He leans back, cheek brushing her temple as they stare at the flames of the fireplace.

"Thank you." He pretends to believe her.

Part 1 (x)

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #unrequited???#one sided love???#maybe not #Geralt sending mixed signals #poor baby jaskier #fanfic

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fandomtookoverlife · 5 months

Text

Lost fic HELPPP

The Witcher Geralt/Jaskier - Geralt is magically reverted back to his basic instincts (supposed to be monstrous) instead is cuddly and very protective of Jask

If you don’t know this fic but like the sounds of it there are spoilers at the end of the post you shouldn’t read - you should however like and rb so they we may all find and read this fic bc I highly recommend it! (If only I had saved it😭)

Ok SO. it’s starts with Triss being very worried about people going missing and she goes to Geralt for help - they find out the people going missing are Witcher supporters when jaskier talks to a group of musicians (?) in a tavern, explaining to them why Witchers are not evil “he could kill us all” “yes he could but so can I, he doesn’t for the same reason I don’t” which is that it’s wrong but also Geralt wouldn’t want him to - the group explains that a friend of theirs who supports Witchers has gone missing

Being the ultimate supporter of Witchers jaskier goes in as bait to draw out the kidnappers/murders

Jaskier ends up getting their attention but also ends up getting kidnapped and locked in a cell. While in the cell he speaks with a musician+witcher supporter who is the friend of the other musicians Jask talked to during the investigation-

During the villains token monologue he reveals his hatred for Witchers and mutants and plans to show the world how evil that are by reverting Geralt back to his basic instincts- thinking when he lets lose the evil animalistic Witcher on the town geralt will massacre it

Jaskier gets thrown into the same cage as Geralt (now presumably murderous and primal) as the captors believe Geralt will rip him to shreds

Instead Geralt scoops jaskier up and cuddles him in a corner. Geralt, seeing jaskier is hungry, kills him some rats for dinner and jaskier has to politely decline much to geralts disappointment. Geralt, because he is leveled to his basic instincts, bring jaskier his lute to play after dinner as that is their nightly routine, he also tries to sexual advance on jask but when jaskier reacts he backs off continues cuddling

Yennefer and triss arrive to save them and she thinks that Geralt will try non consensual things w jask, bc she knows abt geralts feelings, so she tries to get Geralt to come through a petal with her without jaskier

Instead Geralt at the last second grabs jaskier and runs threw the portal where they end up in kear morhen with vesimir lambert and eskel

Yennefer leaves so her and truss can find a magical remedy and Geralt whisks jaskier up to his room on to his bed filled with furs and does not let him leave.

Eventually lambert comes to bring food to the two of them, since Geralt won’t let either of them leave his room, and Geralt now sees lambert as a rival since jaskier took food from lambert and not him (the rats)

Geralt becomes very protective of jaskier, almost to the point of violence, and eskel and lambert take turns watching over the two in geralts room, eskel sits inside but lambert mostly sits outside bc of geralts aversion to lambert getting near jaskier

Eventually Geralt gets restless and lures eskel into a fight, when they figure out the Geralt j needs some exercise they let him out of the keep, Geralt runs out of the keep, kills something and then come back to show jaskier what he’s killed like a cat showing off a mouse it’s caught.

When Geralt gets his cognitive function back he apologizes for his behaviour thinking he is an unforgivable animal who deserves Jaskiers hatred and disgust, as he spent the week hoarding jaskier in his bed and trying to kiss him.

Jaskier says that Geralt “stopping his sexual advances because he knew jaskier didn’t want it was not the argument Geralt thought it was” regarding geralts perceived unforgivable behaviour while under the influence

cue happy ending

Please someone know this fic I remember it being so good

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher fic #geraskier #lost fic #lost Witcher fic #fic recs #helppppppop

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lambden · 2 years

Note

#25: "What have you done now?" for the ship of your choice?

2.7K words, T, geraskier! warnings include alcohol overconsumption & references to Jaskier's alcoholism. set post-s2 thank you so much to @spilledbutter for looking over this for me! <3

Long after all the other residents of Kaer Morhen have gone to bed, soft hands come to touch Geralt’s shoulders, stirring him from his unrestful sleep. He jolts upright, sitting straight in his chair; the grip on his shoulders does not slip. Soft, strong hands then. He closes his tired eyes as the laboratory around them sways. When he speaks, the rumble rises from deep in his chest: “Yen?”

A broken off laugh, and not the voice he was expecting. “No. Not Yen, I’m afraid. Sorry to disappoint.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt corrects. The last thing he remembers is bidding goodnight to his brothers as they stumbled off to their rooms, conspiring to pull some awful prank on Coën. Geralt should probably get up to warn the poor Griffin about whatever Lambert and Eskel intend to do.

Then again, the damage has already been done. His eyelids flutter shut once more, and he slides back forward, seeking the comfort of the solid table as a balm for his aching temple.

Jaskier, who Geralt honestly forgot was in the room, holds him up. Very strong hands. Geralt exhales, and with his trembling breath and tired throat, the noise comes out as a whimper. He reclines into Jaskier’s arms, who receives him with surprising stability and even brushes the sweaty hair from his forehead. “Darling,” croons the bard.

Geralt’s breath slows, caught in the tide of Jaskier’s expanding lungs and chest but buoyed by his thick arms. The bench underneath him could crumble to sand, and Geralt thinks Jaskier could still hold him here. The strength is even more impressive given that Geralt is practically dead weight right now.

Each word is a soft puff of air tickling the back of Geralt’s pink ears as Jaskier continues, slow and quiet and for once not amused at all, “What have you done now?”

Good question. Geralt, suddenly panicked that he’s been caught falling asleep in a puddle of his own sick, opens his eyes— but the laboratory table is thankfully only cluttered with the souvenirs from his night. Emptied bottles stacked against each other and long-forgotten cups tower over small plates of pits and crusts. The real culprit, Eskel, has already fled the scene, but he left behind the remnants of his poison in a few of the bottles. Geralt can’t even remember where he said he’d found the damned stuff, let alone what type of liquor it was. But he had warned them of its potency, and Geralt and Lambert, determined men of science that they were, had been desperate to test out the claim.

He struggles to piece together a good answer for Jaskier. Even though the bard has stunk like a tavern since they first ran into each other again, Geralt still feels embarrassed as he decides how to explain his night. Maybe if he tells him they were mourning, Jaskier will have more sympathy; except they weren’t drinking away their grief, not specifically. Witchers are always mourning, of course, but… it had been a good night. Right up until he passed out alone and stone cold drunk in the cold stone basement.

Geralt supposes he should be lucky it was Jaskier and not Ciri who found him, or Yennefer; he’s sure the sorceress would have some choice words for him. Jaskier should have some choice words for him. A few decades ago, if Geralt had brought the bard to Kaer Morhen and had a party without him, Jaskier would have given him hell for the lack of an invitation. But now he doesn’t complain even a little, just gently working his fingers through Geralt’s hair.

“Why aren’t you mad at me?” The words spill out before Geralt can catch them and cork them. He twists in his old friend’s grip, suddenly desperate to steal a glimpse of Jaskier’s expression, and in the process his elbow knocks a bottle off the table. It bounces away without shattering but the sound is enough to make both witcher and bard jump, and Jaskier’s strong, soft hands release Geralt.

A little pink— his heart is racing, Geralt’s witcher senses supply— and wide-eyed, Jaskier says, “What?”

“Why are you down here,” Geralt mutters, unwilling to repeat himself. It was a stupid question anyway; Jaskier is mad at him. The bard hasn’t said as much, not since Geralt picked him up from his jail cell. But even though witchers have a famed ineptitude for emotions, it would take the obliviousness of a rock troll to see past Jaskier’s anger. His fury, and heartbreak, are woven into him— stitched into his ruddy skin, his messy hair, his vulnerable eyes, the frippery he drapes himself in to look tougher. His fury is in his scent, how he stinks of booze and… What was it? Heartbreak and heroics? Destiny?

Those vulnerable eyes search Geralt’s for something now, and when Jaskier doesn’t find whatever it is he’s looking for, he blinks and sniffs and clears his throat all at once. “I know there aren’t any windows down here, but up in the world of the living,” the bard informs him, sounding more like his haughty usual self, “dawn has almost broken. You’re usually training at this point— I knew you and the other witchers stayed up late, but I didn’t know you had drank yourself to sleep right on the table. I mean, when I came down here, I thought something had gone horrendously wrong.”

“Something did go horrendously wrong,” Geralt jokes, deadpan. “I drank too much.”

“Yes.” Another sniff. “I think they can smell that from Novigrad. But, I’ve seen you drink an entire bar by yourself before.”

“That was human alcohol,” he clarifies. “This was not.”

“Ah.” Jaskier gives the bottle rolling away on the floor a more considering glance, then stoops to pick it up. Geralt has seen Jaskier sample more dangerous substances but not many, so instinct takes over. He rounds his knees over the bench to spin around properly in his seat, and then rises to stalk over to the bard and— well, he only means to take the bottle and set it down on the table again. But as he misjudges the distance between them, he ends up slamming into Jaskier and knocking him back a few steps.

This time, the bottle does shatter, and Jaskier shouts. “What the fuck! What is— listen, Geralt, just because you’re experiencing a proper hangover for the first time doesn’t mean you get to fucking— whatever the hell you think it is you’re doing!” His hands fly up to grab Geralt by the collar of his shirt, shaking him as best he can. The motion doesn’t sway Geralt as much as the loud sound does; he holds firmly onto Jaskier’s shoulders, trying to regain control of his breathing. “And if you want to know why I’m not mad at you, well, I’ve got a lovely surprise for you, you absolute prick, because I am, in fact, furious—”

“Then why come down here,” Geralt interrupts roughly, sounding as ragged as he feels. “Why keep tabs on me if I’m such a—”

“Keep tabs on you!” Jaskier chokes, incredulous. “I couldn’t give less of a fuck what you do—”

“You watch me train every morning,” he growls. Jaskier’s angry mouth clamps shut at that, and the rush of colour floods his face once more. “Even if I couldn’t see you watching, you just said about as much. Why?”

“Maybe I like seeing you tire yourself out!” There’s that anger, solid as a mountain. Geralt rests against it, almost comforted by Jaskier’s rage even as the man continues. “Maybe it pairs well with my morning tea; such a lovely sight, my boorish, sweaty witcher throwing himself against a training dummy for hours and hours as the sun rises instead of talking out your deep grief and trauma with, oh, hmm, I don’t know, fucking anyone? A friend? Your family? Your sorceress lover?”

“We talked about feelings last night,” Geralt protests.

Jaskier huffs, dropping his grip on Geralt’s shirt. Each angry sentence had been accentuated by him brandishing his fists as if to shake Geralt, like an angry child— in the absence of his tightly curled fingers, there are long lines that will undoubtedly stretch out the shirt. Geralt doesn’t care. Cold as ice, the bard hisses, “Did you now?”

“Oh yes.” Vaguely, at least.

“And how did that go?”

His memories are too vivid for the amount of liquor he consumed. Only a few hours ago, this room felt much smaller. Happier, despite the blips of enormous grief— how had their discussion about feelings gone? He remembers Lambert pretending not to fight back angry tears, hiding his twitching scowl behind his mug after they all fell silent at the mention of an old quirk Diever used to have.

Geralt, in lieu of a good answer, releases Jaskier’s shoulders so as to indicate the broken glass shards littering the floor between them. And, bizarrely, this works. Jaskier’s face falls, and he laughs uncomfortably. “Right. Yeah. Sorry. You’re drunk, and I’m being a prick.”

Instead of insisting that if he was still drunk he would feel better, Geralt steps over the bottle and presses a hand to Jaskier’s shoulder again. “No… you came to check on me,” he reminds the man gently. “Even though you’re furious. No one else has even noticed I didn’t make it to bed last night.”

“That’s probably for the best,” Jaskier mutters. This time he doesn’t shake Geralt, nor does he shake him off. He simply tolerates the witcher entering his personal space, just like how Geralt used to put up with the young bard’s apparent and obnoxious omnipresence. He doesn’t even avert his gaze, staring blatantly instead. “If I really was Yen, I’d be disappointed. You look like shit.”

“You used to bathe me,” Geralt blurts out, emboldened by the closeness and the hangover. Jaskier gapes, but he continues, a boat cut loose from its anchor, drifting further beyond the forgivable pale. “I haven’t forgotten. I’ve lived for more than a hundred years, but… I’ll never forget.”

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, heavily and warningly and desperately.

“You— you could do it again now,” he stammers. His hand rises from the man’s shoulder to the side of his throat; he lines his pointer fingers up under Jaskier’s jaw and feels the bard breathe. Pulse to pulse, the years are easier to forget. “I’d let you. You haven’t changed so much, you know— new coat, new hair… and you reek of wine now, but—”

“Wow—”

“But, your eyes are the same blue as ever.” Geralt traces the curve of Jaskier’s cheekbone, humming. “Vitriol blue.”

“If you’re trying to sound like a poet, comparing my eyes to sulphuric acid is a shitty start.” The protests are less effective thanks to how Jaskier’s voice trembles. He lifts his hand but only to place it over Geralt’s, palm soothing his knuckles. Geralt sways into him, and once more a strong arm circles around his back, keeping him steady. “If you remember this when you’re sober, you’re never going to speak to me again.”

“I’m painfully sober,” promises Geralt, lowering his tone to impress the severity of his sobriety upon Jaskier. “My stomach is killing me. I want to sleep for two days straight, then wake up to a barrel of coffee and a gigantic breakfast, and then I want to poison Eskel for doing this to me.” And Lambert too, for good measure. “But first, I want you to bathe with me.”

“Geralt.” Jaskier shakes his head as his steel grip tightens around the witcher to support him. But despite his stern expression and posture, his voice is soft and affectionate as ever. The laboratory has never seemed smaller. Geralt strokes the bard’s cheek again. “Fuck. Listen to me, my stupid darling witcher. If I take you down to the springs right now, you’re likely to drown and I’m nowhere near strong enough to pull you to safety. Sleeping for two days sounds better, doesn’t it? Wouldn’t you like to go to bed?”

Instead of pointing out that Jaskier is obviously strong enough to lift him as he’s holding him up right now, he finally relents. “Yes.” The human’s shoulders sink in relief until Geralt pleads, “Take me to bed, Jaskier.”

Jaskier laughs, tense and sharp, and pulls away before Geralt can try to persuade him anymore.

Every blow of his steel sword against the rotating iron dummy is a new pin-prick against Geralt’s already fragile skull. He keeps at it anyway, only showing himself mercy by striking at a less vicious rhythm than he might on other mornings. And while he usually doesn’t have to worry about the sun, the early afternoon is almost blinding.

As poor as he feels, he’s in much better shape than last night. The exact logistics of how he made it to bed and undressed have escaped him; he only knows that Jaskier had somehow managed to carry his drunk ass all the way back to his room. Geralt twists to glance up at the high walls of the Keep, his gaze searching for the window to the bard’s room. The little songbird watches him train every morning, just as Geralt had cruelly pointed out last night. Maybe it pairs well with my morning tea.

It’s no longer the morning. The familiar silhouette of his friend is nowhere to be found now.

Geralt strikes the dummy again, stomach roiling— not from his bad hangover, but from bitter, inescapable embarrassment. Over the decades they have fallen into certain roles together. Usually, Jaskier is the one who can’t handle his alcohol, who imbibes too much and makes it the witcher’s problem. Usually Jaskier is the one teetering on the slippery precipice of inebriation, begging Geralt to stay up and chat with him, loudly singing of the night’s exploits, and constantly proclaiming to his captive audience of one how very not drunk he is.

But in all their years of friendship, Jaskier has never behaved like that. Sure, he’s broken bottles, and stumbled up to Geralt stinking of sweat and sin and far worse things than liquor. But he has never pressed himself up against the witcher’s body, never begged to be held or gripped him tightly or traced the outline of his face. Never has Jaskier asked Geralt to bathe him; let alone to bathe with him.

Geralt swings too hard. His shoulder twinges; he beheads the iron dummy. Its vague head-shaped appendage clatters to the ground and the loud noise echoes around the stone courtyard.

Still, Jaskier does not peek out of his window.

Geralt sheathes his steel and stomps back inside, livid with himself. He pushes open the doors to the main hall and strips off the top half of his sweaty armour as he does. When he succeeds in removing his shirt and throwing it to the ground, he sees the very man who’s been on his mind all day standing before him.

If Jaskier is put off by the ugly scowl marring Geralt’s features or by his heaving, bare, oily chest, he doesn’t let it slip. In each of his hands is a clay mug of steaming water; he proffers one now and Geralt accepts it gently, cowed by the kindness. It isn’t in fact water but hot black tea.

In all those times that Jaskier came to him for aid, drunk as a Skelligan or hungover enough to curse the gods themselves, Geralt doesn’t think he ever went to the trouble of brewing the bard tea. He raises the mug to his lips without question; it’s delicious, and instantly calms his aching head. This makes him feel even guiltier. “Thanks,” mutters the witcher.

Jaskier’s eyes flash, but he keeps his musings to himself for once. There is a slightly clipped, nervous edge to his tone as he chirps, “Feeling better?”

Perhaps he’s expecting Geralt to lunge forward and drop the mug between them and embrace him again. Geralt, mortified, will do no such thing. He answers honestly and bluntly, “No.”

Jaskier should slap him for his impudence or chew him out for his ungratefulness. He just smiles, nervously shifting between his feet, and then finally paces over to retrieve a previously unnoticed basket from a nearby table. Inside lay some small vials of oil and cleanly folded towels. Geralt’s heart melts, and Jaskier, still smiling anxiously, says, “Well, I’ve got just the thing.”

#geraskier fic #geraskier #ghostinthelibrarywrites #my writing #i care them.#asks

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rebrandedbard · 7 months

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hey srry if this question makes you uncomfy or anything, but what are your thoughts on geraskefer and the other ships between the three?

Oh it isn't uncomfortable at all! In fact, this is a perfect example of polite interest and ask etiquette. You're asking about a subject I've blogged about and shown interest in, and in a very polite manner. I'm over-explaining this so as to comfort you and encourage future asks, my dear good nonny.

Since TWN season 2, I've loved geraskefer. Season two shifted all their dynamics in very interesting ways. I will elaborate:

Yennskier

That scene in the pub and later in the boat between Jaskier and Yennefer converted me. I LOVED their vibe in season 2, and what little we had in season 3 with them was delightful. I love them having this banter-heavy dialogue, this playful "I tooootally find you annoying" best bitchy friends attitude (exaggerated, of course, for fun in fandom). They really do have each other's best interests at heart. They care. And to have them be together without the involvement of Geralt is very nice, even if he is a large part of why they would come together in any circumstance. But seeing the trust between them grow and to see how they need and rely on one another is so compelling. Drinking buddies <3 and I need them to kiss.

Yenralt

Canon and a power couple. Divorced parents trying to get back together. A good contrast. The tension of knowing your love may be influenced by magic has a kind of tragedy. However, I need them to interact more outside of sex and talking about the wish. The opening of season 3 where we saw them as a family made me actually like them as a couple. I need them to be friends before I can ship them, and season 3 went a LONG way to making that happen. They've slowed down enough to actually get to know one another, and I look forward to seeing more of it.

Geraskier

The OG. The OTP. The reason like 99% of you are likely on this blog. Besties with romantic tension. The bants. The sass. The friendship and deep understanding at the core of who they are and how they interact. The ride or die. The tragedy of having it all thrown in your face and made insignificant in a moment of weakness. The desperation to repair what was once taken for granted. The choice to put in the work to repair what was lost. The honesty that comes with it. The fact that I am a gay (technically bi, like 85% men 15% women-ish whatever I'm gay I don't do math). These are what I find so compelling about the two.

Geraskefer

All of the above with a healthy dose of tension, confusion, pining, despair, and an ending in which finally, just this once, everyone gets exactly what they want, and it's okay to have it. The healing. The appreciation for one another. All the fear gone and all the love spoken. The bisexual dream. Jaskier is the glue. And I want them to FIGHT over him before they all get together. THE ship that makes me actually think polyamory would be THE best conclusion. They're already family regardless and I will cling to that. It's a main FOUR. Those three are equals in this unit.

I hope that answers things for you! In conclusion, I love all the variations. Generally speaking, I rank them by favorite as geraskier, geraskefer, yennskier, yenralt. The more Jaskier in the relationship, the better.

#my asks

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craybii · 1 year

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Musings on Tissaia & Francesca at Thanedd

Just finished S3 and can I just say, these two badasses were the standouts of the Thanedd Coup for me.

The unspoken equality between them as Tissaia stands on one side with all the mages behind her and Francesca, the elven queen directly across from her with the Nilfgaardians and the elves.

The way they look at no one else but each other before it all goes to hell, each woman knowing that the other one is the largest danger and threat there - Tissaia representing the human mages of the new order and Francesca representing the ancient order of the times when elven mages built Aretuza.

Finally, the epic moment when Tissaia prepares a deadly spell to kill Francesca (when Tissaia was the very same woman insisting Francesca was not their enemy in S2 while Stregobor and the Brotherhood were losing their shit over the elven exodus to Cintra).

And then the moment it all climaxes in a tragic trade of sorts - Tissaia destroys what Francesca loves most (Filavandrel) in front of her very eyes, so Francesca destroys and burns down what Tissaia loves most (Aretuza). All the other sorceresses - Rita, Sabrina, Keira, Triss, Fringilla, Marti, even Yennefer - are secondary to these two ladies in that moment - truly hell hath no fury like a sorceress scorned for these two proved it then and there.

And then, once Aretuza is in flames thanks to Francesca, how Tissaia falls into a numb state of sorts - she climbs the tower to resort to the most dangerous and life-draining spell known to mankind to destroy the elven invaders she once defended. This spell destroys everyone and everything - all the northern mages flee out of the way - only Francesca (and Fringilla) stays to fend off the lightning. Finally, when Tissaia can no longer keep up, the moment is perfect when all the northern sorceresses step in front of Francesca, making it clear she will not get to Tissaia so long as they live.

Ultimately, all the sorcerers were good - Rita who stayed there from start to end and defended Tissaia - Marti and Sabrina who destroyed people left and right and Bianca, Tissaia’s poor friend. But Tissaia and Francesca’s magic was by far the most epic of the entire battle. The absolute sheer destruction was amazing to watch. And the way they clearly targetted each other throughout the battle was perfect.

You know what the saddest thing is in the end? - in the books, few people were as close to Tissaia as Francesca was - here, they are mortal enemies instantly.

Side-note: I love how Philippa starts up shit and then escapes the moment it all goes to hell lmao

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flowers-shouldnt-die · 6 days

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Tochter aus Elysium - Vol. 2

Chapter 1

Pairing: Vilgefortz of Roggeveen/Tissaia de Vries

Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Relationships: Vilgefortz of Roggeveen/Tissaia de Vries, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Sabrina Glevissig/Triss Merigold

Characters: Tissaia de Vries, Vilgefortz of Roggeveen, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Triss Merigold, Sabrina Glevissig, Philippa Eilhart, Margarita Laux-Antille, Stregobor (The Witcher), Artorius Vigo, i could just tag the whole cast individually

Additional Tags: Unplanned Pregnancy, Hurt/Comfort, One Big Happy Family, Happy Ending, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Happy, hands down my fav tag, Vilgefortz isnt evil in this bc Tissaia deserves happiness and a good dick, okay he starts an evil but like i couldnt care less

Series: Part 3 of Is This Happiness?

Summary: My contribution to the teeny tiny Tissaia bang this year. It's a full circle now, guys.

Original shitsow: The only thing worse than being betrayed by the man you loved is realizing you are carrying his child and almost losing it because of the pain he caused.

Okay, so forget that. She is still pregnant, but this is the totally, i swear to God, not au ooc happy family version:)

In another life, Tissaia had a dream. Such an unbelievable, heartbreaking dream. She turned in her bed and curled up to Vilgefortz. He had returned after she had fallen asleep. She heard in the back of her mind what was whispered in her dream. She had no idea why, but she made her decision. She planned to wait until all the craziness calmed down, but now she knew, felt it in her bones what she had to do.

In the morning, after he woke, he was greeted with a radiant smile from her. She kissed him, and he wondered what got her into such a mood. He would have never guessed what Tissaia said next.

“Vilgefortz… I’m pregnant.”

In countless years, centuries even, time loses its meaning. She let them fly by, and not even the changing of the Continent made it feel real. Until she came. Now, every day felt like it was going too fast, and she couldn't get enough of every single second. Life used to be banal; one way or another, everything was the same: the kings fought, people died, politics were played behind the shadows, and she knew how it would end before it even began.

She did have her bright spots in life, however passing and painful. As their mentor and friend, she cherished her memories with them, with her especially, but sooner or later they were all gone. Gone with the wind, if they were lucky. She refused to get too attached, or at the very least, refused to show it. That was until everything crumbled, the world as she knew it burned, and from the ashes of the past came a future so bright she feared it might blind her.

Life became a drug, and she was addicted. She had a lust to live, to experience it, and not just watch it from her Ivory Tower. It was so cliché. She never wanted this; she went out of her way to prevent it for all of her girls for a reason. She has heard the saying that her heart would beat outside of her body from the first time she held the life she made in her arms. No one could ever accuse her of being sentimental, and yet she felt the slow and steady shift in her soul. When she looked back at what was and who she had been, it felt like watching a stranger with her face and voice. All the pain that led her to this point was a necessary evil, and for the first time since she was a girl, she chose to be happy.

As shock was overthrown by panic and panic was overthrown by something he never felt before, he smiled, let out a shaky breath, and kissed her. This would definitely change things. So many things he couldn't even begin to imagine. But Tissaia was still looking at him with a shy smile and uncertainty in her eyes.

Vilgefortz murmured softly, “This-this is wonderful. Are you certain?”

Tissaia nodded and let her fears surface. “What are we going to do? If the council finds out-” He cut her off and shook his head.

“We’ll worry later,” caressing her face, he pressed his forehead against hers. “This is a happy moment. The happiest moment of my life.”

And it really was. He felt something he never thought he was capable of. It scared him but cleared his mind. He decided to do as he said and hugged his beloved, caressing her back gently and kissing her hair. The worries could come after they got out of bed, or even after that. Right that moment, only they existed. He would make the appropriate changes to his plans. He refused to lose Tissaia now and refused to lose their child. Even he wasn’t sure why, just the previous night he was ready to let it all go. How a small thing changes everything. Or maybe this wasn’t small; maybe this was bigger than they could ever comprehend.

Elysia blew the sand from her hand and it turned into tiny butterflies in the wind. Their wings carried them higher and higher, until they disappeared between the trees. The young girl laughed in that special way only children could. Her voice still had the innocence and wonder people lost while growing up. She was still full of life and curiosity, her uncontainable energy clear as day as she ran around in the forest, yet mindful of never getting out of her mother’s sight. She was barely five years old and already just like…

“Just like you.” Tissaia turned to face Yennefer, her eyebrows arched instead of voicing her question. She didn’t notice when the young sorceress arrived and she had no idea how long she had been watching them. “She scolded the birds for being too loud. Already a little control freak.” She smirked, then added, “Although a sweet one.”

“In her defense, they were loud.” The brunette turned back to her daughter and let out a shaky breath. Yen followed her gaze, and smiled softly as she saw the little firecracker trying to reach for a mushroom that grew on a tree. It was just out of her reach and when even jumping couldn’t help, she called for her mother to help her. Tissaia picked her up and let her examine it but didn’t let her get it off of the tree’s trunk. The little girl made a disappointed face that was so much like her mother’s, Yennefer found it almost uncanny. So many things about them were uncanny, if she was honest with herself. But over the years, seeing the two of them so happy together made her forget about all the uneasy feelings she had, most of the time.

Even when her father came back with the druids and the little girl ran into his arms. Vilgefortz picked her up and threw her high up in the air. Elysia was laughing, and Tissaia scolded him to be careful. Yen had a hard time getting over everything, and she figured the ex Rectoress had an even harder one. Maybe time does heal all wounds; maybe she shouldn't let it get to her so much, maybe-. She didn’t know and just huffed.

How could Tissaia just act like this? The girl was fine; she got over that, but Vilgefortz… She put up with him for the sake of her mother, and to be fair, Tissaia never asked her for anything more. She had Ciri and Geralt so she understood to a degree even though so many lines were crossed, the purple-eyed sorceress wondered if they were even there in the first place.

She watched as the druids knelt down and touched Elysia’s hand. The girl definitely were odd, Yen could relate to that. They both stood out for reasons beyond their control. Her little sister - it was still strange to call her that - clearly was born with a magic that was similar to the druids. No one had a real idea where that came from, but considering that Vilgefortz’s bloodline was mostly a mistery, Ely might have gotten it from him. He was raised by druids after all.

Nature or nurture - Yen wondered. She didn’t think Ely would become like her father was before she was born. But then again, who would have thought that young little Vilg would become that.

“Yenny, look,” she ran and gave her a small brach with cherry blossom on it. “Pretty, pretty flowers.”

She thanked her and ruffled her hair. The girl made flowers bloom from a dead tree branch.

The day she decided to enter the world was a blur of pain and blood. In the late morning hours she felt the first sensation of pain in her lower abdomen. She paid it no mind, it wasn’t unusual for her to feel uncomfortable during the late stages of her pregnancy. However, by noon she needed help to get back to her room. Tissaia never imagined her birthing experience would be witnessed by so many, but then again, she never imagined having one at all. All of her friends, who have truly become her family in the last few months, were there, supporting her. Despite the looks he got, Vilgefortz stood next to her, holding her hand. Tissaia and he had a talk, and while agreeing that the possibility of another unplanned pregnancy was real, they decided to have only one baby. It was one more than they planned anyway, so he refused to not witness the birth of his only child.

When her water broke, it surprised her that it’s not only the water that comes out. Blood also poured from her and if it weren’t for her friends reassurance, she probably would have panicked. He helped her get into any and every comfortable position she requested, whispering encouragements and telling her she was doing so great. Minutes turned into hours and her baby refused to show its face to the world. Tissaia was screaming in the end as sweat glistened on her body. Her face was flushed and breathing became difficult amidst the jolts of pain. The sun disappeared a long time ago and she wondered if their baby and him were playing tricks on her. Their child was already as stubborn as he was and it terrified her.

The moment she felt her baby leave her body was a relief but despite the end of her torment, she felt oddly empty.

“It’s a girl!” Yennefer beamed with joy. It was a rare sight and Tissaia couldn’t take her eyes off of them, as she walked up to her with the baby safely wrapped in a blanket in her arms. When she finally held her daughter she couldn’t help the tears that escaped her eyes. The little girl had a shock of black hair and when she opened her eyes for a moment Tissaia’s breath got caught in her throat. The same eyes she had fallen for in every sense of the word looked back at her. Her sweet little baby girl had her father’s eyes and she felt this was his final act of capturing her heart. “She looks just like you!” Yen continued smiling like she never did before. Tissaia slowly shook her head but her raven haired friend insisted. “She has your face, your nose, her mimics already… she looks like you, Tissaia.”

Vilgefortz agreed, despite the baby’s soft tan, dark hair, and deep eyes. “She truly looks like you, my love.” He sat next to them on the bed and kissed her, then gently caressed the newborn’s face with his fingers. He embraced Tissaia as she was holding their baby, and she leaned back onto him.

She looked down at her daughter once more, and she had to admit, she saw some resemblance between them. The baby made a soft sound and she couldn’t help but smile. Her fear evaporated the longer she looked at the tiny bundle. She kissed the top of her newborn’s head and gently caressed her face. The love she felt for her while pregnant multiplied and in that moment, Tissaia de Vries never felt more at peace, more at home.

This one for my sweet lil sis @mtg-is-life-frf

#tissaia de vries #tissaia #vilgefortz #vilgefortz of roggeveen #vilgefortz/tissaia #vilgefortz x tissaia #the witcher #the witcher netflix #ao3 #ao3 witcher #ao3 fanfic #witcher fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #teenytinytissaiabang

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yellowspiralbound · 1 year

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The Witcher & why fanon and canon are not as separate as they are in other medias

Okay so I just answered and reblogged this poll about what parts of the Witcher you interact with (fanon vs canon) and it made me realize that a lot of fans might not be aware of the fact that fanon and canon are not neatly seperated when it comes to the Witcher. It’s kind of a clusterfuck actually. So allow me to attempt to explain it. Before the post, let me make sure everyone understands that I am referencing the translations of the books. I have not read them in the original Polish. If anyone has and some of what I say is inaccurate, please let me know. Extremely long post ahead.

First, we have to accept the fact that we are working with not one but three different canons. The books are, of course, the original canon. It is what everything else stems from. The games are often considered a follow up but are not necessarily canon to the books and were not intended to be. The original Witcher game was never intended to be a sequel to the books - that’s why Yennefer and Ciri are basically never mentioned. However, as the second and third game developed, the creators shifted gears and focused on creating a cohesive story set after the events of the books, Now, many if not most fans forget this. Then there is the show canon, which draws from the books but is largely it’s own thing.

So what is the “real” canon? For some, the answer is anything written by Sapkowski...but there are stories set on the Continent and written by Sapkowski that are, by and large, considered superfluous to canon such as the Something Ends, Something Begins short story which Sapkowski wrote as a wedding gift for some friends. Beyond that, there is debate as to whether Sapkowski’s final depiction of Geralt is well...Geralt. While many book fans tend to believe that the Geralt met by Nimue at the end of Season if Storms is an illusion, I have spoken with many who believe it to be the real Geralt. So which is it? Sapkowski certainly hasn’t said as far as I am aware, so good luck figuring it out. And if Sapkowski’s work is the be all end all of canon...what are the games?

Are they a form of fanon that Sapkowski has given his blessing to? Nope. Sapkoski hates video games. Like there are decisions he made in Season of Storms (published after the first two Witcher games) that I’m fairly certain he made specifically to fuck with the game producers (like Dandelion being a blonde for example). Everything I’ve ever learned about the man suggests he would do this. And yet Season of Storms also hands the game producers their golden goose: a Sapkowski-written ending where Geralt doesn’t die, where he continues to travel and hunt monsters. Which is exactly what Geralt did in the games. And after that Sapkowksi actually met with some of the producers for the third game, something I don’t believe he did for the first two (feel free to correct me if he did). So did Sapkowski take inspiration from the games for this ending? It’s possible. I personally don’t think it likely but we know it’s possible because of a certain character in Season of Storms: Brehen.

Brehen, for those of you who may not remember/know, is a Cat witcher that Geralt meets at the very end of Season of Storms. Now this is important, Geralt’s meeting with Brehen is the first time ever that Sapkowski insinuates there are different schools of Witchers. And you might be thinking “What about the medallions of different animals that Bonhart had?” It isn’t ever really implied they’re from different schools. Coen, who has a griffon, is shown with the wolves all the same during Blood of Elves. Of course, the game producers had already decided to take the different medallions as representations of schools but It is only when Brehen begins to use the word “us” that there is a confirmed implication of schools by Sapkowski. Is this proof that Sapkowski used the games as inspiration for Season of Storms? Not at all. What it is, is solid evidence that both the game producers and Sapkowski had been influenced by a third party: the pre-CDPR comic run.

Now, this is where things get interesting. The pre-CDPR comic run is not that well known outside of Poland (and perhaps even in Poland, I am not sure). I discovered their existence on the Witcher subreddit and promptly read the fan translations of them that you can find online. Only one of the six comics released between 1993 and 1995 is an original story. This comic, Zdrada or Betrayal, is where the story of the Cat and Wolf tournament often is from. If you don’t know what I’m talking about, go read basically any fanfiction with Aiden in it. It will more than likely be brought up. This comic is the first instance of a school system like the one we have now. Now, this comic was based on an idea by Sapkowski. He gave the author of the comic run, Maciej Parowski, a basic idea and Parowski expanded upon it. To what extent Parowski expanded the idea isn’t really known. The schools could be entirely his own invention, but it is more likely that Sapkowski suggested them. It is extremely likely, however, that Parowski’s characterization of the Cats as a school influenced Sapkowski - especially considering the 18 year gap between the publication of Zdrada and the publication of Season of Storms. So when did Parowski’s fanon interpretation of Sapkowski’s outline become canon? Did it become canon? I personally consider it canon but not everyone does.

Essentially what it boils down to is that there is a high chance that Parowski’s fanon directly influenced both Season of Storms and the Witcher games. And yes you can argue that Parowski’s work isn’t fanon because it was based on an idea by Sapkowksi but...that’s what all fanworks are - stories based on the original ideas of the author. The same can be argued about the show. Large parts of the show are Lauren Hissrich’s fanon interpretation of Sapkowski’s work yet it is a canon in its own right.

In conclusion, Sapkowski never avoided fanwork like say, Neil Gaiman. In fact, he actively encouraged it in the case of Parowski and Hissrich. Whether or not he ever encouraged the game producers in any capacity is...highly debatable. There’s some serious tension there guys. I personally think that he did with his choice in how to end Season of Storms but that’s just me. From what I know of Sapkowski, the man is, quite frankly, far too proud to ever admit to being wrong about video games and the producers so draw your own conclusions on that one.

But yeah, fanon has had a serious influence on canon in the case of the Witcher and there are so many different canons that separating the two entirely is more or less impossible. And I haven’t even talked about the pre-CDPR TTRPG, the CDPR TTRPG, the mobile gwent game, or the CDPR comic run, all of which fall into the liminal space of “not fanon but not canon either.”

Please feel free to correct me if any of this is wrong or if you have read the original Polish copies of the books and some stuff I’ve talked about is translation error. Also if anyone has a translation of the pre-CDPR TTRPG stuff please contact me. I would do unreasonable things for a translation of them and would be eternally in your debt.

#the witcher #the witcher books #the witcher games #the witcher comics #the witcher ttrpg #canon vs fanon #and the way those two intertwine when it comes to the witcher #i could probably talk about this for a lot longer #but i am tired #spiral's thoughts #media analysis #the witcher spoilers #the witcher book spoilers

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hanzajesthanza · 11 months

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it really does matter so much that fringilla vigo is nilfgaardian, beauclairoise, for many reasons, but let's start here:

her entire role is that of an illusionist; one which she would not be were it not for her family lineage, rooted in beauclair:

There was a corridor in Beauclair Palace, and at the end a chamber, the existence of which no one knew about. (...) The corridor and the chamber, disguised by a powerful illusion, were known only to the palace’s original elven builders. And later–when the elves had gone, and Toussaint became a duchy–to the small number of sorcerers linked to the ducal house. Including Artorius Vigo, a master of magical arcana and great specialist in illusions. And his young niece, Fringilla, who had a special talent for illusions.

and since her talent in illusions is well-defined in the series, as it is her who grants geralt the very silver-mounted chrysoprase amulet which saves his life in the final fight against vilgefortz:

Geralt clenched Fringilla’s medallion in his fist. The bar fell with a clang, striking the floor a foot from the Witcher’s head. Geralt rolled away and quickly got up on one knee. Vilgefortz leaped forward and struck. The bar missed the target again by a few inches. The sorcerer shook his head in disbelief and hesitated for a second. (...) ‘I didn’t know …’ Yennefer said at last, scrambling out of a pile of rubble. She looked terrible. The blood trickling from her nose had poured all over her chin and cleavage. ‘I didn’t know you could cast illusory spells,’ she repeated, seeing Geralt’s uncomprehending gaze, ‘capable even of deceiving Vilgefortz.’ ‘It’s my medallion.’ ‘Aha.’ She looked suspicious. ‘A curious thing...’

that talent is something which cannot, by far, be separated from her character. and returning back to her lineage, it is again her familial relations which place her in beauclair.

she was positioned there, ready to intercept geralt, as early as the autumnal equinox in september, by which time geralt had barely just left the town of riedbrune:

The world over, the autumn Equinox was a night of spectres, nightmares and apparitions, a night of sudden, suffocating awakenings, fraught with menace, among sweat-soaked and rumpled sheets. Neither did the most illustrious escape the apparitions and awakenings; (...) In the huge castle of Montecalvo the sorceress Philippa Eilhart leaped from damask sheets, without waking the Comte de Noailles’ wife. The dwarf Yarpen Zigrin in Mahakam, the old witcher Vesemir in the mountain stronghold of Kaer Morhen, the bank clerk Fabio Sachs in the city of Gors Velen and Yarl Crach an Craite on board the longboat Ringhorn all awoke more or less abruptly. The sorceress Fringilla Vigo came awake in Beauclair Castle*, as did the priestess Sigrdrifa of the temple of the goddess Freyja on the island of Hindarsfjall.

* Slight correction - As explained in Chapter 3 of Lady of the Lake, Beauclair is not a castle, but a palace.

and she's only invited to beauclair in such a capacity because she is a relative of the duchess:

‘I’m in Beauclair because the largest, best-stocked library in the known world is here. Apart from university libraries, naturally. But universities are jealous of giving access to their shelves, and here I’m a relation and good friend of Anarietta and can do as I wish.’

(whom, you may note, she stands by and jointly receives geralt with at their first meeting, and participates in the festival of the vat with)

and therefore, she was in a perfectly strategic position to delay geralt, keep him captive:

‘(...) Please at least tell us … has the Witcher calmed down now? Are you capable of keeping him in Toussaint at least until May?’ (…) ‘No,’ she answered at last. ‘Probably not until May. But I’ll do everything in my power to keep him here as long as possible.’

because fringilla is not just an illusionist literally, as in the magic she is naturally gifted at, but 'illusionist' is her entire identity as a character.

and as her family hails from beauclair, this specific identity is compounded with the fact that beauclair itself is the center of illusions, a dreamland, a fairytale:

‘There’s something bewitched about this place, this fucking Toussaint. Some kind of charm hangs over the whole valley. Especially over the palace (...) no two ways about it, there’s something bewitched about this bloody Toussaint.’

fringilla is an illusionist because she is beauclairoise. she not only hails from a long line of illusionists, but hails from, is related to the ruler of, the very city of illusions and dreams.

she is the illusionist not just in a literal sense, but in the entire narrative role of casting an illusion over our hero, because it is the illusion of love which keeps her and geralt in beauclair. (the tricky trick is that geralt, taking a page out of yennefer's playbook of seduction, cleverness, patience, was able to cast an illusion upon the mistress of illusions herself, free himself from the witch's spell, awake from a pleasant dream to face the harsh reality).

(sighs) and even if you want to forget fringilla's beauclairoise identity and erase her entire positioning as the illusionist which poses a threat to our heroes, entices them to complacency, her role as nilfgaardian in the sense of her academic identity and imperial service also defines her.

because it is also fringilla, the illusionist who casts the wool over people's eyes... who blinded yennefer at sodden hill.

‘We’ve already met,’ Yennefer spoke again. ‘I don’t recall,’ Fringilla said without looking away. ‘I’m not surprised. But I have a good memory for faces and figures. I saw you from Sodden Hill.’ ‘In which case there can be no mistake,’ Fringilla Vigo said and raised her head proudly, sweeping her eyes over all those present. ‘I was at the Battle of Sodden.’ (...) ‘Occasionally one happens to see another person for only a split second, right before going blind, and one takes a dislike to them instantly.’ ‘Oh, enmity is considerably more complicated,’ Fringilla said, squinting. ‘Imagine someone you don’t know at all standing at the top of a hill, and ripping a friend of yours to shreds in front of your eyes. You neither saw them nor know them at all, but you still don’t like them.’ ‘So it goes,’ Yennefer said, shrugging. (...)

fringilla's (proud!) participation at the battle of sodden is a crux of the lodge, because she alongside her good friend, the scholarly assire, they are nilfgaardians who, owing to their nationality, find challenges meshing with the northern sorcereresses. the lodge brought together representatives of magic across nationalities in the midst of a raging, bloody war between them all.

and it's so integral to fringilla's character that she has imperial biases, that she approaches even the international lodge with an imperialist view.

with no factual basis, she initially exotifies and sexualizes the northern sorceresses, despite her own prior denial of these base stereotypes:

Fringilla Vigo was putting on a brave face, but she was anxious and stressed. She herself had often reprimanded young Nilfgaardian mages for uncritically yielding to stereotypical opinions and notions. She herself had regularly ridiculed the crude image painted by gossip and propaganda of the typical sorceress from the North: artificially beautiful, arrogant, vain and spoiled to the limits of perversion, and often beyond them. (...) Her untrammelled imagination offered up images of impossibly gorgeous women with diamond necklaces resting on naked breasts with rouged nipples, women with moist lips and eyes glistening from the effects of alcohol and narcotics. In her mind’s eye Fringilla could already see the gathering becoming a wild and depraved orgy accompanied by frenzied music, aphrodisiacs, and slaves of both sexes using exotic accessories.

she even has a difficult time understanding why the northern sorceresses are upset about the nilfgaardian invasion, believing it to be a boon to their society. only through their discussion does she just barely begin to grasp the meaning of "invasion" and why she wouldn't want to be on the receiving end of it:

Some were clearly anxious about the close proximity of Nilfgaard. Fringilla had mixed feelings. She had assumed that such educated people would understand that the Empire was bringing culture, prosperity, order and political stability to the North. On the other hand, though, she didn’t know how she would have reacted herself, were foreign armies approaching her home.

all of this indoctrination into imperial beliefs, at the same time that she is an educated woman, and herself, as an imperial sorceress, known for being rebellious and an upstart within her own culture:

‘Stop staring,’ Assire said, touching her bouffant and glistening curls. ‘I decided to make a few changes. Why, I just took your lead.’ ‘I was always taken as an oddball and a rebel,’ Fringilla Vigo chuckled. ‘But when they see you in the academy or at court…’

this is such a chaotic rambling post, but all i want to say is that fringilla's character, like most of the minor characters in the witcher series, was not invented through random generation, a roll of the dice, a spin of the wheel. her specific traits - such as her nationality, lineage, talents - all relate back thematically. everything is relevant, specifically chosen to create a specific character.

if once changes her backstory (e.g., to place her at aretuza... though i don't know who would do such a thing for no reason) they would change her entire character, the series' commentary on imperialism, and because of her role she takes later on, even the entire ending of the story.

#fringilla vigo #c: fringilla #the witcher books #book: lady of the lake #listen i don't enjoy her character as in i don't think about her 24/7 but i am begging my fellow fans to not just throw her #entire character out because they don't like her or what she does or they think it's just a matter of preference if she goes to aretuza #because these specificities define her entire character which define the entire stay in beauclair which define the assault on stygga castle #which define the entire ENDING of the saga which define the MEANING of the saga #these little guys (fictional characters) are like dominos or jenga blocks. if you move one little thing it changes everything #like there's so much meaning and symbolism to the wintering in beauclair it kills me to see people throw it out the window #bro they were caught in a dream a pleasant dream #and you also know what. the way we see beauclair. is FROM a dream. from condwiramurs' intentional oneiromancy #it's literally a dream about dreams #AUGH i lose my shit over the fakedeepness of lady of the lake #also her name is the latin for chaffinch. she's a little bird: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fringilla #which i am... guessing... relates to the wintering theme... perhaps...#analysis

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