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lucabyte · 6 days

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i am looking at nohats au 👀 please share more

So! NoHats! I'm going to grab you and use this to ramble. A Lot.

The NoHats AU is @samhainian's it's just that I'm the strange little freak who takes the words said unto me and executes on them. But I can still do a little explainer on what our overall thoughts and vibes are. (And, that we are in fact propping up a little box with some cheese under it here. 🪤 Please (PLEASE) feel free to pick up what we're putting down.)

We're far from the only ones exploring a "what if siffrin fucking died" AU, though the main difference with NoHats is the placement of the death in the timeline. Instead of being 'Mal Du Pays Wins' or 'Act 6 encounter goes horribly wrong', the death is… Just after the (literal) falling action.

(This placement is because Sam is a comic book fan who thus has become used to characters being ripped away at the cruelest times by shitty writers. THANK FUCKING GOD adrienne is not that and isat is delightful yippieee, but, back on topic.)

Giving the party the full understanding of What Happened that you get by putting the death after black hole siffrin, but before the A6 encounter leaves an interesting gap to be filled. See, making Siffrin's death very much not Loop's fault means that… this once again reads (when not read as simply a tragedy...) as the universe doing what it sees fit to fulfull Loop's wish… Thus making Siffrin's death Loop's fault again, but only in their eyes. And only in a way they could express if they were honest about who they were…

And this is where having had excuse to waffle about my general Postcanon Loop thoughts the other day comes in handy, because Sam and I have that as our canon-compliant reading to begin with, NoHats plays off of a lot of the same readings of Loop's character. Namely: Uh Oh Somebody's Lying By Fucking Omission Again. (BECAUSE TO BE FAIR THIS TIME… HOW THE FUCK WOULD YOU HANDLE THAT?)

Now, neither Sam nor I are fanfic writers, so this has been a little bit trapped in our heads and DMs (and my unfinished art but,)

But our thoughts on how NoHats like… Goes.

Siffrin's death is peaceful, but that does not mean the aftermath of it is. I can't imagine the party takes it well, especially after understanding the circumstances of the Loops. (And, of note, in A5 where nobody had the discussion on what to do with each other's bodies should something happen…) But I'd imagine it traumabonds them somewhat (understatement of the century) and now knowing how the rest of the party feels, they resolve to travel together for the forseeable future.

The party track down Loop to deliver the terrible news, since they were clearly Siffrin's friend too, and invite Loop along to travel at least long enough to (let them grieve) get the burial over with. Loop, here, can be helpful in knowing what Siffrin would've wanted where the party would be at a loss. Loop, I think, takes a bit of a lead on the funerary aspects of it all, because, um. (Performing rites on your own body, huh?)

Then, as things are after a death, life just… Kind of has to continue on as normal. The party travel, pick up Nille, and get to know Loop as this mysterious new person. Maybe in this situation they might stay in Bambouche for a while to give Bonnie more stability since. They are probably taking it the worst. It would've come out of absolutely nowhere for everyone in the party obviously but god, for a kid? For A Kid?

It should be stated NoHats is not intended to be grimdark, just y'know. An exploration of grief. This is also why it's got a bit of a lopsided focus on Bonnie vs the rest of the party because hhrrhghghhghghhhghhghhh <- incoherent

Now, a crossroads.

How does the party discover Loop to be Siffrin? How long does it take. How much have the party embraced them as part of the family (especially with something as intense to bond over as this)?

There's the Odile option. Have her put it together and have to bring it up somehow. This could also be done by Isabeau, perhaps. He's smart. (which. God. If anything's the real Isabeau Torment Nexus it's this)

Then there's the other option batted around by Sam and I. The: The Universe Dislikes Duplicates option.

The items in the house that fzzt away when inspected. The Universe doesn't like there to be two of something, at least not when they're acknowledged. But one of something is just fine…?

Which is to say. I'm not a personal proponent of 'Loop getting their body back'. EXCEPT …… except this one time.

There's only one Siffrin now, so they don't need to be obfuscated to exist.

Consider, if you will. Loop swallowing their guilt for long enough to be comfortable. Falling back into old habits. Without another Siffrin around to compete for the niche of, they actually begin to act like Siffrin again. Not intentionally, it's just… The party is as welcoming as they've always been. And the party swears they keep catching glimpses of a face under all the light.

Then, one day, while still not fully human again, the resemblence becomes undeniable. Loop having not even noticed until everyone looks at them like they've seen a ghost.

Has it been months? How long have they kept up this lie? Is it even a lie, to them? They're Loop. But they were, once, Siffrin.

Even after explaining it, does that make it better or worse?

Bonnie cuts through the betrayed, struck-nerve reactions with a sobering "I missed you."

… Anyway !

Yeah so that's the vibe for NoHats. As for LoopLoops? That's more nebulous. I think it can go anywhere really in the NoHats timeline. I err personally toward the "Loop continuously replays the last 10 minutes before Siffrin's death almost immediately after they find out and have to parkour their ass up the House in the most distressing situation possible to try and get them to hold on, just please hold on." (Remember! Siffrin can remember the contents of Loop's loop backs in the A6 fight!)

But there is the possibility that this happens months, or worse years down the road. One last Loop back. Throw it all away for the chance to just get that one thing you didn't know you even wanted but now know you NEED.

Misc:

Okay miscellaneous time.

This is where I admit that I have a bunch of unfinished NoHats art that I haven't gotten around to yet because I feel like a right tool being so obviously Loop-Centric with my fancontent (I AM . . I REALISE I AM NOT DOING MUCH TO BEAT THE ALLEGATIONS.) So like if people want to see that please say because euaghghghhfh <- the nervous.

this is like the most fucked up place to do isaloop fr. anyway.

one of Sam's mid-game observations that I'm just going to share for no particular reason is that Bonnie's hair shares a bunch of shapes with Siffrin's. The flick up at the top, the 3 pronged shape of the fringe… just something to think about.

Without 2 Siffrins around to compare each other to it'd likely be a lot harder to notice Loop's similarities. Doesn't mean that those similarities don't sting more in this context though.

If you do NoHats without LoopLoops. The concept of this all fading into memory years down the line while they just have slightly-glowy but otherwise regular Siffrin hanging out is fucked up to think about. Just like real grief. Augh

6. a peek into the original dms as a treat from us

#LONG POST....!#be free our ideas. go forth into the wild. and by that i mean neither of us are fic writers so please HUNT US FOR SPORT #isat spoilers #looploops au #nohats au #isat au #isat loop #isat act 6 spoilers #not giving it more tags than that since feels rude to tag the rest of the party lol #lucabytetalks #but yes! to be extra clear: nohats is a 'please play in the space' invitation. because neither of us are big fanwork people! um!#it feels a little bit neglectful of us to not make more stuff for this AU ourselves but... we aren't practiced at that kind of thing. so.#open invitation! we know we won't make anything MASSIVE with this so.. don't hold your breath. and feel free to take the reigns.#we aren't like. the arbiters of 'sif fuckin dies' aus in general obviously but if you want to play with our specific ideas please do!#think of this post like prompts if you want to. go nuts #and @ a certain someone who said in the tags theyd maybe write something inspired. kisses you so sweetly. thank u for even considering it #also hi kaun i was thinking about your little snippet when typing 'act 6 encounter goes horribly wrong' 👋

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thedemonofcat · 7 months

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This story takes the character from the game and the show.

When Geralt and Dandelion married, it was a time of joy and happiness. However, one fateful night, while Geralt was away on a contract, a group that harbored hatred for Witchers broke into the cottage where they had been living.

Geralt returned just in time to witness the aftermath, finding Dandelion bleeding out on their bed, a sight that shattered his heart.

Overwhelmed by grief, Geralt struggled to cope with the loss of his beloved husband. So, when presented with an opportunity to bring Dandelion back, he didn't hesitate to step through a mysterious portal promising a reunion.

To Geralt's astonishment, the portal transported him to a different world. Yet, none of that mattered, for before him stood Dandelion, though this version called himself Jaskier and believed Geralt despised him.

Initially, Geralt kept the truth about his origin hidden from Jaskier but remained as friendly as possible, hoping to rekindle the love they had shared.

Meanwhile, Jaskier couldn't comprehend why Geralt, after everything that transpired on that mountain, was suddenly so kind to him. Despite his confusion, he couldn't help but relish the newfound warmth in their relationship.

Just as Geralt deemed it time to reveal the truth to Jaskier, a twist of fate intervened.

The Geralt from the world they now occupied unexpectedly made his appearance.

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tigerlyla-of-metinna · 1 year

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Simple Pleasures (Finale)

Dettlaff: *still coughing away*

Emhyr: I've made that error as well, Dettlaff. Don't let your first unpleasant experience deter you from the overall enjoyment that comes later.

Dettlaff: Throat irritation is just that. An irritation. And still my opinion doesn't change about this human habit you both enjoy.

Regis: Your chest and throat cavity aren't used to this yet. Take it from us, my friend. Take smaller hits first, to get acclimated to the habit. Breathe in some fresh air before taking the next puff. Before you know it, you'll be inhaling this fine blend like a chimney.

Regis turns to Emhyr (blowing smoke rings):... and with practice, you'll be as creative as our emperor. If I may inquire, Majesty, why smoke here? Is it not allowed in the palace?

Emhyr: I can smoke anywhere I wish, I just don't want the nobles to see me relax and be normal. *leans back* Do make another batch the next time we meet.

Regis: As you wish, Your Imperial Majesty.

Dettlaff: (puffing away) Curious habit this recreational smoking. Does nothing beneficial for the body. But it is... catchy. I wish to learn that trick with the smoke, emperor.

Emhyr: One step at a time, vampire. One step at a time.

The End

(if you missed the previous posts: Part 1:

And Part 2:

Many many thanks to @i-be-busy-witchering who took the pics with such perfection fitting my requested scenario. Story and edits in SAI/PS by me.

#emhyr #emhyr var emreis #regis #emiel regis #dettlaff #dettlaff van der eretein #emiel regis rohellec terzieff godefroy #witcher 3 #the witcher 3 #witcher fic #short drabble #the witcher 3 wild hunt #nilfgaard #toussaint #Emhyr and Regis teaching Dettlaff how to smoke weed :D

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viking-raider · 1 year

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A Witcher's Legacy - PART FOUR: MUTAGENS

Summary: What should have been a short stay in Beauclair, turns into something much more complicated. Both to your and Geralt's present and future.

Pairing: Geralt of Rivia/Reader

Word Count: 6.6k

Parts: I II III

Warning: PG - Witcher!AU, Dad!Geralt, Protective!Geralt, Sassy!Reader, Language, Nicknames, Medical Experiment, Portals, Monster Fight, Mention of Smut, Fluff, Mention of Grave Robbing, Witcher Mutagens, Bickering, Mage Technology

Inspiration: A subject from my story, A Witcher’s Destiny, Season Two of Netflix’s the Witcher and the quest, Turn and Face the Strange, in The Witcher 3!

Author’s Note: I hope you enjoy it! Line divider by @FIREFLY-GRAPHICS!

If you would like to be added A Witcher’s Legacy Tag List, please message me!

I also have the story on my AO3

If you would like to get notifications for my writing! Just follow my Tag List blog, @VIKING-RAIDER-TAGLIST and turn on the notifications for it! It’s that easy!’

“Who's the letter from, Geralt?” You asked, watching the little carrier boy run off, excited about the ten crowns Geralt had kindly given him.

Frowning, Geralt unfolded the parchment, finding another piece of folded paper inside with a familiar writing in black ink. “Yennefer.” He said softly, casting his eyes up to you for a moment.

“Oh.” You replied, a tight smile pulling across your lips. “A wonder how she found out we were in Toussaint, since we just arrived.” You commented to yourself, moving to a vine covered staircase, with roses the size of your hand, the color of butter and the finest Toussaint Red, making the air so fragrant.

Letting out a humming grunt, Geralt read the letter aloud.

“My dear friend, I've been told you're on a jaunt in Toussaint, with your sweetheart. I've come upon some information which might be of interest to you. While browsing through a colleague's, Tomas Moreau's, book collection, I found mention of him conducting research into mutations.” Geralt scowled at the letter, a troubled feeling brewing in the pit of his stomach. “The details I've come to learn are rather vague and his laboratory's location remains a mystery. Yet his journal should at least provide hints as to both. It is said he was laid to rest with it in his tomb. I enclose a map I found in the tome I happened upon. Though less than completely legible, I trust it will prove useful.”

“Your friend, Yennefer.”

“So, mutations.” You echoed, turning back to Geralt and folding your arms tightly over your chest. “What kind of mutations? Was he trying to mutate the normal stuff or do you think he was trying to fuss around with Witcher mutations?”

“It's hard to tell without finding his laboratory and discovering more about his research.” He replied, pushing his jaw forward has he stared down at the letter, mulling it over in his mind. “I need to look into this. If he was testing mutagens for Witchers, then I have to find it and get it back to Vesemir.”

“Before anyone else finds it.”

“All right then.” You nodded, chewing on your lip, just as concerned. “Where to first?” You asked, wishing to help.

“Yennefer's letter said he was possibly buried with the location of his laboratory.” He said, unfolding the map the Sorceress had enclosed. “So, we go there and find it.” Geralt examined the map for a long moment, his brow twitching in his concentration. “It looks as if he was buried in Orlémurs Cemetery. That's not too far from here.”

“We can walk.”

“Lovely.” You smiled, then glanced about. “Which way, you big grump?” You asked, eyes sparkling with amusement.

Geralt smirked back at you, waving a hand towards the gently sloping, pathway. “This way, Firefly.” He replied, with a cock of his head.

Nodding yours at him, you started down the brick street, Geralt following closely behind you. The Capital city of Toussaint, Beauclair, was gorgeous and it filled you with a light, gaiety that put a skip in your step and a pleased smile on your face. As you looked about. Taking the architecture in, the hot sun beaming down on top of your head and shoulders, reflecting your mood. Geralt smiled at the back of you, seeing and sensing the joyfulness inside of you. He felt it seep into him.

You had an effect on him and his ordinarily sulky moods.

“It's so beautiful here.” You commented, glancing at Geralt over your shoulder.

“That it is.” He agreed, looking about, seeing the bustling stalls and shops, the Toussaintois going about their business and day. “We'll have to make our stay a more serious one.” He said, moving around to your side, his arm wrapping around your waist as you passed through a thick crowd. “I know this is your first time here.” He smiled, dipping his head slightly to press his lips to your temple, in a rare show of public affection.

“Hm.” You hummed, nudging your shoulder into his side. “That would be nice.” You cooed, looking up at him, trusting him to guide you. “You do still have a few injuries to nurse from that Wyvern contract, you took in Caravista.”

He grunted back at you, still smiling as you crossed out of the city gates. “It's settled, then. I'll investigate this matter, and afterwards, we'll find the best room in the best inn, and we won't leave until you wish to.”

“So, until they kick us out?” You quipped, giggling.

“As you wish.” Geralt chuckled, as you both stepped off the paved path of Beauclair and onto the well trod trail to the large, Orlémurs Cemetery.

Making it to the Cemetery, that looked like a manicured set of ruins with grave-sites dotting it, you and Geralt drifted apart, searching the faces of cracked and crooked, tombstones, that had seen many years out in the open weather and tears of loved ones.

“What did Yenn say, this colleague of hers name was?” You called out to Geralt, reading the worn name of Patrick Moulins, who, according to his headstone, had talked himself to death.

“Tomas Moreau.” Geralt returned, walking along a line of graves, before stopping. “Found him!”

You joined him before the overgrown and disheveled grave, the heavy stone that was meant to seal Professor Moreau's coffin in the ground, slightly askew. You looked at Geralt a confused and questioning expression on your face. Frowning back at you, Geralt moved closer to the grave, dropping to a squat to read the mossy etching.

“Typical Mage. It's in Elder Speech.” He huffed, shaking his head. “Ellas k'havani allder aen Dol Naev'de, ellas allder n'corrason. Glorsann a'Aelirenn.” He read aloud, despite it sounding like gibberish to you. “Salvation lies not in Dol Naev'de, but in our hearts. Glory be to Aelirenn.” He translated, as he reached into the grave, through the small opening, feeling around.

“Oh god.” You frowned, biting your lip and imaging his hand touching one of the Professor's bones.

Not the worst thing he's ever touched, honestly. You thought, shaking your head.

“Do you think it has anything do with what you're looking for?” You asked, as he glanced side to side, knowing he was falling into his Witcher seek and find mode.

“Maybe.” He rumbled back. “Someone's robbed the grave, the journal isn't inside.” He said, narrowing his eyes against the bright, cloudless sun and looked around, before standing back up. “The grave won't tell us anything more.” He said, pull Yenn's map from his back pocket.

“A regular ol' treasure hunt.” You quipped, peeking around his arm. “Anything helpful?”

“The map has mention of Aelirenn and Dol Naev'de, also known as Valley of the Nine.” He said, pointing them out on the map for you. “There's a small mark on it. So, it's worth a look. I'll have to grab Roach to make the trip though. It's a long way from here.”

He folded the map up and tucked into his pocket, then turned back towards Beauclair.

“Geralt.” You called out to him, motioning to the grave, when he turned back to face you.

“What?” He frowned, not catching the meaning of your gesture.

“Close it.” You cooed at him, with a somber expression. “It's not right someone disturbed him for a book.”

“We just disturbed him for a book, min minne.” Geralt countered, the corner of his lip twitching.

“Still, Geralt. He deserves his rest, as we all do.” You entreated him.

Drawing a soft sigh, Geralt returned to the grave side and leaned over it, he used the strength of his powerful arms to shove the thick stone slab back into its rightful place over Professor Moreau's coffin. He straightened up and looked at you, lifting a brow, and you nodded at him, satisfied.

“One less dead person risen from the grave you have to deal with.” You commented, sarcastically. patting him on the back and kissing his cheek.

“Funny.” Geralt chuckled, giving your bum a playful smack, making you yip. “You can't come with me.” He said, as you returned to Beauclair and where you had left Roach.

“Why not?” You frowned, a bit disappointed, you enjoyed helping him with his contracts.

“I don't know how dangerous this could be.” He reasoned, grabbing Roach by the reins. “I won't endanger you. So, I'm going to take you to the Rose and Knight inn, in the center of the City, and you'll wait for me there.”

“What if something happens to you?” You argued, following after him, while he led you through the streets.

“What else would be new?” He chuckled at you over his shoulder.

“The new thing is this matter isn't about you going to slay a monster in the countryside.” You huffed, annoyed by how nonchalant he was being. “This professor was mucking about with mutations.”

Geralt's shoulders slumped and he stopped, his head hung for a second, before he finally turned around to look at you. He could see all the concern and fear in your eyes over this task, more so than usual. Which he understood. Considering it for a minute longer, Geralt tugged Roach around and mounted up, then reached down and pulled you up behind him.

“If anything should happen-”

“I know, I know.” You assured him, leaning against his back. “Tuck tail and run.”

The ride through the Toussaint countryside was stunning. The rolling hills of vineyards baking in the cloudless sun, their vines drooping with fat grapes waiting to be picked and turned into area's finest wine. Homey and extravagant villas dotted the landscape as well, abuzz with their daily chores as you Geralt rode by them.

You sighed, pressing your cheek against Geralt's shoulder blade, relaxing. “I could stay here forever.” You cooed, as Geralt guided Roach onto a path that led in a thicket of trees, cooling you with their leaf-y shade, after the unrelenting heat.

“Oh.” Geralt answered, his chuckle rumbling against your cheek. “That's because you haven't seen it in the winters.”

“It can't be much worse than Kaer Morhen.” You commented, smirking.

“Oh, you'd be surprised.”

Coming out of the woods and around the bend of a sloping hill, Geralt pulled Roach to a stop on the shore of a large and startling clear lake, where the two of you got down. Geralt took a sword from a holster that hung the horse's saddle and the pouch of his vials from in the bag, before the two of you started looking for any indication of an entrance to a mysterious laboratory. You walked along the one side of the shore, where the bank was built up, eroded from years of the lake water lapping at, while Geralt check the water.

“What is it with Mages and their mysteries?” You sighed, shaking your head.

“They live too long.” Geralt grunted back. “After so many years on the Continent, they become paranoid and full of themselves.”

“Starting to make a lot of sense.” You agreed, spotting a unique little rock sitting on the edge of the sand and grass. Going for the rock, you noticed a narrow, grassy culvert that went back a good way. You couldn't see where it ended, or if there was an end, with the limbs of several trees flanking the culvert drooping over it, like a leafy curtain.

“Geralt.” You called out, cocking your head and taking a step into the ditch. “What about over here?” You mumbled, inching further.

The Witcher turned, just as you disappeared and called out your name. “She'll be the death of me.” He sighed, hurrying to follow after you. “Wait.” He hissed under his breath, grabbing you by the wrist as he came up behind, pulling you to a halt. “We don't know if the Professor's lab is down here or what is.”

“You need to be careful.” He softly scolded you, protectively.

“Sorry.” You whispered back, but cast your eyes up ahead. “But don't you think we should check it out?”

“I will investigate it. You will stay behind me.” Geralt corrected you, pulling his sword and moving forward.

You stayed on Geralt's heels, while he used the tip of his sword to part the tree branches, the muscles of his body tense and every one of his keen senses on high alert for anything out of the ordinary and wishing ill intent. You jerked and gasped softly at the whoop of a bird in the distance, instinctively grabbing the back of Geralt's black shirt.

Coming out of the other side of the foliage, you and Geralt discovered a decayed stone wall. It was covered in moss and dead, creeping vines, several of its ashy stones laying in the spongy, overgrown grass and mud. You saw nothing special about it and figured Geralt hadn't either, so you started to turn back.

“Fuck.” Geralt growled under his breath, stopping you.

“What's wrong?” You frowned, turning back to him.

“I hate portals.” He scowled, moving closer to stone wall and bent over, picking up what you had figured was just a rock, then slotted it into one of the gaps.

A low hissing, hum filled the space around you and the hair on your forearms stood up as the static from the portal mounted. Geralt stepped back from the wall, took a deep breath, and with a jerk of his arm, produced the Sign of his Aard. The Aard hit the stone, making it wobble in its base, before it started to glow and an arched portal appeared on the face of the wall.

“That's promising.” You commented, looking at Geralt with a lifted brow.

He shot you a dark, narrow eyed look and approached the portal, taking deep slow breaths. “What's wrong with a good, solid locked door?” He complained under his breath, before stepping through.

“Kills giant, poisonous monsters for a living. Terrified of portals.” You grinned, hooting with laughter, and following after him.

You came stumbling out the other side, gasping for air, disoriented and nauseous. But managed to land on your feet and was slowed down by Geralt's strong arm wrapping around your waist, pulling you against his torso. He looked you over, with an expression that wanted to make sure everything was in the right place and you had all the part you were meant to have.

“I'm fine, Geralt.” You cooed at him, gently kissing his stubbly cheek.

Nodding, he let you go and glanced around the cavernous room you had been spit out into. It smelled damp, moldy, airless and like a nest of Kikimore had been using it as a litter box. You could hardly see more than two feet in front of you, but thankfully Geralt had no such issue. His sharp, cat-like eyes could see around you, as if it was a well lit room. So, you made sure to keep near him, putting your feet where his had been.

The place was like Elven ruins that had caved in or been covered over across time. With tall arches and columns. Rubble and rubbish littered the ground, making your footing unsure as you went deeper in. Geralt stopped, causing you to bump him, your lips parting in question of why he had halted, until you saw the spark of his Igni, lighting something you couldn't quite make out in the shadows. Until, it ignited, a iron brazier, casting an amber glow against the wall and a small radius around its base.

“This is a crazy place to have a lab.” You criticized, giving the place a better look, now that the brazier was lit. “I can understand wanting to do your research in peace and privacy. But hiding your portal in such away, then having to navigate through a ruin to get to it.” You shook your head, confused.

“It seems like over kill.”

“It is.” Geralt agreed, lighting another brazier, that revealed a crumbling set of stairs. “It's only making me more suspicious of what type of mutagens he was working with.”

Your eyes shot up to the back of his head, an uneasy feeling filling your stomach at the thought of Professor Moreau testing Witcher mutagens.

Carrying on, you descended the stairs and passed through a narrow hallway, coming out into an elevated cross way, leading off in three directions, one of which was blocked off by a large statue of a panther. Sighing, Geralt moved forward, investigating the other two paths, in doing so, he discovered the body of the grave robber.

“Hm.” He grunted, shaking his head at the poor soul, but nevertheless, he searched his person for the Professor's journal, only finding a few loose pages of it.

“Geralt.” You called out, softly.

“One moment.” He answered, scanning the pages, learning the Professor had become paranoid with someone trying to break into his laboratory, and had installed security measures.

“Geralt.” You called again, a bit more urgently.

“What is it, min minne?” He sighed, turning on his heels to look back at you.

Your eyes were fixated on the panther statue standing menacingly above Geralt. “Is-is that-” You licked your lips, trying to compose yourself. “Is that statue-the panther's eyes—supposed to glow?” You asked, your voice squeaking a bit at the end as your eyes flared.

Geralt's head jerked upward to the statue, just in time to have the creature strike out against him. “Run!” He roared back at you, fumbling for his sword.

Not needing any other prompts, you turned on your heels and bolted down the hallway from where the two of you had just come. The panther knocked Geralt flat onto his back, forcing him to brace his forearm against its throat in prevention of its powerful jaws from biting into anything vital. Unable to grab his sword, Geralt brought up one foot, yanking a dagger from inside his boot and driving the needle thin blade into the snarling animal's neck. The panther gurgled, then dissolved into a pile of ash, revealing itself to be a specter, one of Professor Moreau's security attempts.

Getting up, Geralt searched for you, running almost full speed down the passageway and up the crumbling stairs. But skid to a halt, when he found you by the first brazier, a look of terror and worry on your face. Seeing Geralt was all right, you ran to him, colliding into his chest and locking your arms around his torso, to hide your face in his neck.

“You see now, why I didn't want you to come?” He sighed, resting his head on top of yours.

You nodded, still to overcome to speak for a second. “I do, but I still want to help.”

“I don't know what help you can be.” He countered, tipping your head back, so you looked at him, studying your eyes. “You are the most stubborn woman I've ever met.” He chuckled, shaking his head, knowing he couldn't deter you.

“It's why you fell in love with me.” You quipped back at him.

“One of the reasons.” He teased back, before becoming serious again. “You'll stay in the room I've cleared, before going any farther, do you understand me?”

“Loud and clear, Witcher.” You nodded, pushing up on your toes to kiss him.

Continuing on, You and Geralt navigated through the maze, hoping you were getting closer to the Professor's lab and the answers to your questions. There hadn't been any more specters to jump out and attack either, but there had been a few traps Geralt needed to disarm, before either of you could move forward. Such as a spike trap, that came up out of the floor.

“This place is endless.” You remarked, edging around the disarmed spikes, heart pounding in your chest.

“Seems that way.” Geralt answered, waiting for you, then entered the next room. “The fuck.” He barked, brow wrinkling.

“What?” You called out, staying in the other room, just like he wanted you to. “Is it safe?”

Geralt took a deep breath, studying the creepy Gargoyles that lined alcoves on the main level, with an inactive portal, while the next two levels were lined with inactive portals. “Stay there.” He barked, slowly approaching two pedestals in the center of the room, on either side of a massive statue, and examined them, finding scrap marks on the sides.

Looking at the Gargoyles, he noticed two of them were missing hands. Narrowing his eyes, Geralt approached one and broke the hand off with blast of his Aard. Taking the heavy piece of stone to the pedestal, he rested it on top and a loud clicking noise echoed in the room, followed by the unmistakable whoosh of a portal opening. Turning in a circle and casting his eyes around, Geralt found one of the portals on the upper level active.

“Geralt.” You shouted, planting you hands on your hips.

“Just wait.” He growled, seeing if he could map out a way up to the portal, but wasn't sure where it would take him or if he could get back.

Taking the stone hand off the first pedestal, Geralt shifted it to the other one, gaining the same results he did with the other one, but opening a portal on the middle tier. Humming, he broke off another Gargoyle hand and set it on the other pedestal, activating both portals, but not the portal on the main level.

“What's the issue, Geralt?” You called out to him, growing curious.

“Mage shenanigans.” He growled under his breath, circling the statue and regarding the other gargoyles and inactive portals.

Impatient with waiting for Geralt to tell you the way was safe, you strode into the room, but jerked back a step, surprised by the thick set of grotesque gargoyles. You recovered quickly though, spotting the singing portals and your frustrated Witcher.

“What's the rub?” You asked, lifting a brow at him.

“That portal-” He pointed to the portal in question. “needs to activate. But so far, only these two have.” He explained, motioning to the others.

“Mmhm. Quite the situation.” You nodded, biting your lip.

“Yes.” Geralt sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I loathe mages.”

“Didn't you date one?” You inquired, giving him a teasing and sharp gaze.

“Against my better judgment.” He replied, rolling his eyes.

“So, what happens, if you only have one of the pedestals active?” You asked, studying them.

“Only one of the portals open.”

“Have you tried going through one of them?”

“No, not yet, and I'm not really in a rush to.” He answered, pacing. “I don't know where they go, or if once I go through them, that I can get back here.”

“Perhaps, you're right.” You sighed, gazing at the statue. “Mages do live too long.”

That brought a soft chuckle out of Geralt. “They do.”

Seeing no other options, Geralt began climbing towards the portal on the middle tier, just as you noticed a crevice, low in the robe of the statue. Glancing between it and Geralt, you slipped your hand inside of it, praying not to come into contact with any unsavory creatures that could make their home in the small space, and felt around.

“Geralt, wait!” You called out, your fingers coming into contact with something.

“What is it!” He called back, spinning around as he stood before the portal. “What's wrong?”

“I found something! But I can't quite manage it.” You told him, staining.

“Don't touch it!” He warned you, jumping back down and quickly moving to your side. “It might be a trap.” He told you, his breath hot on your neck.

“And if it's not?” You asked, looking up at him.

“Move, I'll do it. Go back into the other room. In case, something happens.” He ordered you, jerking his white head towards the door.

Knowing that arguing with Geralt was useless, you did as he asked of you, but angled yourself so you could see him. Geralt pulled his glove off and wedged his large hand into the crevice, just finding the button that was hidden inside. With a little wiggling, he pressed on the button and yanked his hand back out again, readying himself for the worst.

Several of the gargoyles turned on hidden bases in the floor, all turning to face the statue and the direction of the inactive bottom portal, and a suspenseful moment later, the portal came to life. Geralt let out a huff of amused surprise, looking the portal over.

“It worked!” He called out to you. “And, it's safe.”

You ran into the room and grinned at the portal, proud that you had figured out a Mage's security system, but felt your stomach twist a little bit. “So, do we go through it?” You asked, looking up at Geralt.

“It's through there or back the way we've come.” He replied, pulling his glove back on. “I'll go first, in case there's anything dangerous.”

“Very well, I'll wait a minute, then follow after you.” You nodded, lightly touching his arm.

Nodding, Geralt stepped through the portal with no further ado and you waited anxiously for a minute or two, stomach in knots not knowing if Geralt was in the fight for his life on the other side, wherever it led. Unable to wait any longer, you slipped through the portal after him, coming out the other side gasping and sick to your stomach, but intact.

“Geralt?” You called out, pressing a hand to your tummy.

“Welcome to Professor Moreau's laboratory.” He replied, coming from around a corner.

You looked about the strange and disheveled space with a shake of your head. “I expected more.” You answered, moving down a set of stairs.

Geralt had lit the many braziers and standing candelabras situated around the room, giving the already unsettling room an unsettling feeling. You found cluttered tables, bookcases, tall brass instruments, a Mage communication device, a large, iron cage and a huge and grotesque, glass specimen jar with something black and almost human floating in it.

“Well, have you learned anything yet?” You asked, hugging your arms against your chest, even with the braziers, there was an eerie cold about the place.

“There are Megascope crystals on a pillow next to Moreau's Megascope.” He motioned to them, next to the mage communication system of three stands, that stood in a circle, a loop at the top, where the crystals rested and a powerful piece of glass to project the image magically etched onto the crystal. “I found another on that desk over there.” He added, motioning over to it.

“I'm going to see what our dear Professor has on them.” He said, moving over to the Megascope.

“I can dig around, see if there are anymore.” You said, glancing about. “Or anything else of interest.”

“All right, just don't touch whatever those are.” He said, pointing to the brass instruments, one of which looked like a strange Iron Maiden.

“Don't have any plans to, love.” You gulped, getting goose-bumps as you edged by them.

Geralt picked up the three crystals, slotting them into the Megascope and turned the rune cylinder at the bottom of one of them, activating that specific crystal's information. A bleak image of Professor Moreau, devoid of color, flickered to life in the center of the Megascope stands. Professor Moreau wore typical mage robes, he had a wrinkled face with a pair of pinch glasses perched on his nose, and spoke with a typical Toussaint accent.

“Today, I begin my great life's endeavor, one greater and more significant than any I have thus far undertaken, for it relates to me personally. To me and my son.” He spoke, confessing his son, Jerome, was a Witcher and he made an oath to recover him, his apparition turning in circles as he spoke.

“So, it is Witcher mutagens.” You said, poking around a bookcase.

“Yes.” Geralt nodded, troubled.

The crystal ended with the Professor vowing, Gods being on his side, to reverse the Witcher mutagens in Jerome and make him an ordinary man again.

“I wonder if the Professor managed to do so.” He frowned, turning on the next crystal.

“Observation twenty-two, despite applying a surfeit of toxic substances, significantly more than usual, the subject displayed no symptoms of overdose.” Professor Moreau's reanimated projection explained, as Geralt stroked his scruffy cheek. “This is a minor success. Jerome may be able to tolerate better toxicity.”

The crystal ended with a soft pop and Geralt moved on to the next crystal, explaining how to make the mutagens less taxing and listing the mutagen base. He slotted the last crystal he had in, listening to Moreau speak about how one mutagen could be transmuted into another through the addition of certain ingredients, and of his subject, though on the brink of death, was much stronger than he had been and came back from the edge of death.

“It seems he's enhanced his subject, instead of cured them.” Geralt commented, more to himself than you.

“Have you never met this Jerome?” You asked, coming to stand beside him.

“No.” He shook his head. “But that's not too uncommon. He might be from another Witcher school or dead.”

“Ah. Well, I did find the Professor's journal on Witcher Mutagens.” You informed him, holding up the worn, purple, cloth bound book to him. “I suppose, you want to take it and the Megascope crystals back to Kaer Morhen with us.”

Geralt gave you a golden glance from the corner of his eyes, that told you he did, but not before getting into something you weren't going to be happy about. You sighed at him, letting your hand drop back to your side, eyes falling shut for a moment.

“You want to test this mutagen stuff out, don't you?” You asked, needlessly.

“I do.” Geralt answered, with a short nod.

“Why?” You groaned, looking up at him with a pleading look. “Can't we at least go to Kaer Morhen and do it in a safe environment, with Vesemir? That way, if something happens, we'll have him to revive your stupidity?”

A broad grin passed over his lips. “But all the equipment is already here, min minne.” He cooed at you. “We'd have to build all of it at the Keep.”

“Then, you'd have to fight Eskel and Lambert for first go inside.” You added, knowing that was going to be his next argument. “I thought you were over the whole Trial of the Grasses! You bitch about how hard it was! How much it hurt and blah blah! But you're all pony up to do this?” You scolded him, shaking your head. “Jaskier would be tripping over his lute, if he was here to witness this.”

“What if it fails and you die!” You protested, waving the book in his face.

“I'm sure I'll be fine.” He smiled, kissing you lightly on the forehead.

You rolled your eyes at him. “It's not like I can talk you out of it. So, what do you need me to do?” You sighed, giving in.

“I want you to go through his book and tell me what ingredients I need.” He said, brushing the back of his fingers against your cheek, trying to pacify you.

“Very well.” You glanced around and found a low stool by the table, next to the strange Iron Maiden, and took it up, starting to skim through the book, while Geralt investigated the rest of the laboratory.

“Something about a Pale Widow.” You said aloud, still skimming. “Getting a syringe full of mutated giant centipede albumen from the Pale Widow and the Ashwagandha herb.” You looked up at Geralt.

“That's all it states.”

“Well, he has to have it readily here.” Geralt answered, scanning the room, spotting an opening in the stone wall inside the iron cell and a well used needle on the wooden table you sat beside. “Stay here, I'll be right back.” He said softly, heading that way.

“Ger-” You started to call after him, before giving up and going back to reading the book.

Geralt ducked into the opening in the wall, finding a dank and dripping tunnel, following it into a large, cavernous space, the floor deep with stinking mud. He slowly pulled his sword as he dropped into the mud, knowing a space like this was a ripe place for a creature to live and attack. But he only saw the walls lined with eggs, quiet and dormant. His medallion was still, giving no indication of magic or monster wishing ill intent upon him.

Though, he kept a firm grip on the hilt of his sword, approaching one of the eggs. He squatted down and pulled the dagger from his boot, slicing open the egg, to be greeted with a putrid scent, making his nose wrinkle. There was a long dead, juvenile, mutated giant centipede inside. Geralt wouldn't have been surprised if the Professor had been keeping its parent as a pet, breeding it for the eggs in his countless Mutagen experiments, then killed the elder after he gave up, leaving the babies to starve and rot off.

Stuffing his dagger back into his boot, Geralt pricked the curled up corpse with the syringe and drew out what little albumen was left inside of it, getting half a syringe full. He cut open another, until the needle chamber was full, then returned to you.

“All right, Albumen acquired.” He said, holding up the syringe.

“I found the herb, Ashwagandha, in one the chests.” You answered, pointing to where you laid it on the table. “All you have to do, is put them both in that boiler, then get into the machine yourself.” You told him, a hard lump forming in your throat, at the thought of your beloved Wolf getting into the iron maiden contraption.

Nodding, Geralt set the syringe down carefully, along with his sword, before pulling off his boots. He stripped naked and looked at you, seeing the worry and conflict on your face. “I'll be fine, Firefly.” He cooed at you, reaching out to cup your cheek for a moment.

“You best be, or I'll never forgive you.” You whimpered back, turning your head to kiss his palm.

Adding the ingredients and activating it, Geralt stepped into the machine, while you stood there, helplessly. You paced before the machine for several minutes, figuring that's all it would take, listening to it pop, hiss and clank. But ten minutes went by and Geralt didn't step out. Thirty minutes, still Geralt was inside. You grew concerned, debating on whether or not you should open it and check on him.

Perhaps he'd passed out and couldn't open the door himself? Or what if he was-

No, he's fine. You cut off the thought, pressing a fist to your mouth. He knows what he's doing. Geralt knows his limits. You tried reassuring yourself, pacing from the bottom of the stairs to the back of the room, your restless impatience growing as the hour and half mark was passed.

You started at the sound of unoiled hinges opening, lifting your head from the table you had rested yourself on, several hours before. However, seeing the door to the machine open and realizing Geralt was finally coming out, you jumped to your feet and rushed to him, just getting your arms around his torso as his legs gave out from under him.

“Geralt!” You panted, feeling his burning skin through your clothing, his head heavy on your shoulder as you both went down to your knees. “Are you all right?” You inquired, hearing his breathing slightly labored.

You cupped his face in your hands and pushed his head up, shocked to find his eyes glowing, the skin of his face dark and marked with black lines, as if he had taken one of his potions or elixirs. He didn't speak for a long time, just catching his breath and resting against you, his eyes and skin returning to normal.

“I'm all right.” He rasped, gulping thickly, his throat and mouth dry. “I'll be all right.” He groaned, pushing himself up onto his feet, wobbling for a second. “How long was I in there for?”

“Hours.” You replied, standing as well. “I was starting to think you weren't coming back out.”

He nodded, moving around the table for his clothing, which in your anxious impatience, you had folded. “We should go.” He said, sluggishly pulling them on.

“For fuck sake, Geralt, sit down and rest for a moment.” You barked at him, pointing to the stool by his leg.

“I'm fine.” He grunted back at you, bunching up his black shirt to pull it over his head and jamming his feet into his boots.

“All right, fine.” You huffed back. “While you were having a merry jaunt in there, I found a map of this place in the Professor's journal.” You told him, with a lifted brow. “Behind that bookcase is supposed to be a hidden passage out, that's shorter.”

“Good.” He nodded, looking towards the Megascope.

“I have the crystals and the journal.” You assured him, resting your hand on his back, feeling the tense muscles there. “I took care of all that, while waiting for you to finish cooking in your Mutagen steamer.” You quipped, forcing a smirk.

Grunting and nodding again, Geralt continued and shoved the bookcase out of the way, finding a vulnerable wall behind it. Without hesitation, he used his Aard on the loose bricks, blasting them inward and rocking the room around you.

“Gods alive!” You gasped, grasping the back of Geralt's arm.

Geralt chuckled and the two of you followed the low ceiling tunnel, finding another portal, that was simply activated by a crystal that laid on the ground. Stepping through, you found yourselves back on the shore of the lake, but a mile or two down from where you had originally entered. With a shrill whistle, calling Roach, you and Geralt walked along the water, to meet the horse, while also enjoying the fresh and cool air.

“I look forward to that luxurious room at the inn.” You commented, getting up behind Geralt on Roach. “To a nice, hot bath. That experiment has made you a bit-foul.” You chuckled, resting your chin on his shoulder and peeking around at him.

“More than usual?” He asked, cocking a brow at you.

“Just a tad.” You laughed, squeezing your arms around his waist.

He spurred Roach back to Beauclair and got a handsome room for the two of you, at the Rose and Knight Inn, that sported its own tub and a balcony, letting you see the vineyards and apiaries in the rolling hills past the city gates in the distance. You stayed for two weeks, not leaving the room for anything. Having your meals brought up to you. Preferring to stay in bed or the bathtub together. It was romantic and refreshing.

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9mothsinspace · 2 years

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Thramsay has the best Ao3 tags

1. “Ramsay Bolton is his own warning”

2. “Reek-in-the-making“ ( The Punishment )

3. “Someone please help Theon Greyjoy (not you Ramsay)” (Brave the Depths)

4. “Theon makes poor life choices. As usual” ( Lips Tell Lies for the Heart )

5. “If you think this has a happy ending... you’re right it does, well done you“ (Bolton Family Values)

6. “If you didn’t want to read about flaying you’re in the wrong fandom“ ( Accident Prone )

7. “And Asha is the only one with a drop of common sense“ ( Drowning Would Be Kinder )

8. “Straight until they aren’t” ( The Dungeon Master )

9. “Balon Greyjoy is a horrible jerk in every universe ever“ (if you'll be my star I'll be your sky)

10. ”emotional issues galore” ( Weak )

11. “All the ususal Thramsay anguish“ ( The Woods )

12. “One hundred percent horrible” ( Gratitude )

13. “I am honestly out of tags just know this is gross and bad“ (Good Dogs)

#bear in mind that these are crack tags but most of the linked fics are REALLY dark #that being said go read The Dungeon Master by evilpeaches!#if you haven't already done so. One of the two best Thramsay fics out there (the other one being The Wild Hunt by silvan_whispers)#thramsay #theon greyjoy #ramsay bolton

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geraskierslovechild · 1 year

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A while ago I read a Game!Geralt/Jaskier fic that I loved so much because of their dynamic, since Game!Geralt is pretty different than Netflix!Geralt

So I was wondering…. Does anyone have an fic recs with that pairing?

#geraskier #the Witcher #game!geralt #the witcher wild hunt #the witcher fanfiction #witcher fic #geraskier fanfiction #ao3 #geraskier ao3

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podcastenthusiast · 1 year

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It's perfect, for a while.

They have a home at Corvo Bianco, far away from politics and ghosts. A garden, too, because Geralt still likes to keep his potion-brewing skills sharp and Yennefer has found she enjoys making her own perfume. They have room for a few horses in the stables—retired racers and warhorses. Roach pretends to dislike their company, but Yennefer can tell it's just an act.

Yennefer finds a quiet life suits her more than she ever expected. They drink excellent wine. Take walks together, in the fields or by the stream, and she listens as Geralt talks at length about various plants and creatures. They hold each other at night. They read in bed. Eat breakfast in bed. They do many things in bed.

Winter, though... winter is hard. At times, Yennefer has to remind herself that this isn't Aedd Gynvael.

Geralt starts sleeping in late. Not the gentle, lazy rhythm of unspooling days they enjoyed together in the seasons before. He stays in bed like he can't bring himself to face the day. Sleeps like he's running from something. Barely speaks. He doesn't eat enough, especially for a witcher—even an idle one; Marlene frets over it constantly.

When he does rise, he works himself beyond exhaustion for no reason she can understand. The winter chill is mild here in Toussaint, and they have staff now, yet still he chops firewood himself until they've run out of room to store it all, as if he's preparing to heat a whole castle—

Oh.

It is about a castle, isn't it. She suspects he misses Kaer Morhen. His family.

"Talk to me," she says one night. One could almost call it pleading were she a different woman.

"Just read my thoughts, if you're so insistent."

"I know that isn't your preferred method of communication, nor mine."

Not to mention she's a little afraid of what she might find in that poor tormented mind of his. Yennefer rakes her fingers through his long hair. Geralt, head resting against her breasts, says nothing at all.

"We're too old for this. We agreed to stop running from things. Talk to me, Geralt."

"I'm tired, Yen." He speaks like each word pains him. "I don't know what's wrong with me. You're happy. Roach is happy."

"Roach is a horse, love. She would be content anywhere as long as there are apples in it for her."

"I love it here with you. Really, I do. It's better than I deserve. Thought I might even be the first witcher ever to die in his bed. Imagine that."

"I'd rather not," she mutters.

"I was—I thought I could be happy. But maybe I don't know how. Maybe I'm not capable of it anymore, only able to feel a brief shadow of contentment. All they left me with is anger and sadness. I'm sorry."

Yennefer cannot bear to hear this. She hates when Geralt talks about himself like a thing, and a broken one at that.

She takes his face in her hands.

"Now you listen to me, Geralt of Rivia. Never apologize for what you feel. Your feelings are as real and important as mine or anyone else's."

"But—"

"Listen, I said! If you're sad, then be sad for as long as you need to. I am not leaving. And neither are you. We're done with all that nonsense. Aren't we?"

"...Yeah."

She pulls him close.

While the witcher sleeps in her arms, Yennefer devises a plan.

Jaskier and Zoltan are the easiest to find, of course. The bard doesn't take much convincing at all either. She need only say that Geralt needs him.

Ciri is much the same, immediately willing to help and (ironically) easy to locate; the imprint of magic she leaves in her wake still shines bright as a beacon.

She tracks Lambert down to an inn at the foothills of the Blue Mountains. It's easy enough; he never has been quiet or subtle a day in his life.

"You're here and Geralt isn't," he says, white-knuckled grip on his mug of beer. "So is he...dead, or—"

"He's alive," Yennefer says before the witcher can spiral any further. "He's safe. Unharmed."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here?"

"I could ask the same of you. Heading to Kaer Morhen for the winter?"

"No, I'm fucking not," Lambert snaps. "Wouldn't be any point."

"Yet here you are in Kaedwen."

"Yeah. Old habits. I don't know."

"Come to Toussaint."

"Why the fuck—"

"Because I'm starting a new tradition, one that requires all the remaining witchers of the Wolf school to gather at Corvo Bianco immediately. And because I asked nicely."

"Gonna turn me into a frog if I refuse?"

She smiles dangerously. "We shall see."

Eskel is a little more difficult to find because he isn't slowing down for the winter. In the end, she follows a trail of dead monsters from town to town, inquiring about the witcher who slew them. At least his scar is distinctive.

"Geralt is fine," she says this time instead of a greeting, and the witcher's tense shoulders relax slightly. "Alive and uninjured, anyway. But it would do him good to see his brothers."

"Sentimental old wolf," Eskel says with unrestrained fondness. He pats his horse's neck and does not look at Yennefer. "He asked me to stay. After... after Vesemir's funeral. But I just. I couldn't go back there, y'know? It'd be too quiet."

"It's too quiet," Geralt had whispered one cold night when she was drifting off to sleep beside him.

"Been worried about him," Eskel continues. "Hoping he isn't in the keep, all alone. Or out on the Path taking stupid risks."

"Is that what you're doing?" she asks.

Eskel shrugs. "Didn't know where else to go, I guess."

"He's not alone," she says. "But I think he also needs more than I can give."

"...Are you all right?" Eskel asks, and Yennefer realizes she'd begun to sway somewhat alarmingly.

"Fine. Just tired. I've simply...expended too much magical energy in a short time. Portals, and such."

"You're really doing a lot for him."

"Surprised?"

"Well...no." Eskel apparently is the only tactful witcher the Wolves have, but he's a shit liar.

"Perhaps I find his moping dreadfully irritating. Let that suffice if it pleases you all to think of me as a selfish witch who ensnared your brother."

"What's the truth, though?"

"I love him," Yennefer says. "And he would walk through a hundred portals for me, I'm certain. This is the least I can do."

Upon seeing Yennefer, Jaskier, Zoltan, Ciri, Lambert, Eskel, and Regis—the vampire having appeared out of thin air—all gathered together at Corvo Bianco, Geralt's immediate response is: "Damn. Am I dying?"

"Of course not," Ciri says, embracing him.

"It's about your Gwent addiction," Jaskier quips.

"I can stop whenever I want."

"You sound like Lambert when Vesemir locked the wine cellar," Eskel says.

"Hey, it worked, didn't it?"

"You started mixing up White Gull with random herbs and any half-empty bottles you could find."

"A lesson in creativity," Lambert says.

"Seriously, what are you all doing here?" Geralt asks.

"It was my doing. I invited them."

"Why? Is it Ciri? Is--"

"There's no danger. Everyone is all right," Yennefer assures him. "It's winter. Time for rest. And to be with your family."

They all stay until the pull of their own lives becomes too great to resist. For a while, their home is filled with life and laughter and music.

"Thanks, Yen," Geralt murmurs into her hair later that evening.

It doesn't fix everything. There are still those who should be here but cannot be, whether due to death or simply life's demands. There are still days when the icy tendrils of grief and pain seize Geralt's heart, and even the warmth of everyone who loves him isn't enough to break its hold.

But Yennefer knows it helped when she sees Geralt smile more. She can almost feel the ice in him beginning to melt.

#whisking canons and headcanons together until i get the hurt/comfort i need #mostly game canon with book references and dandelion is called jaskier #the witcher 3 #the witcher #yenralt #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #witcher 3 wild hunt #witcher fic #witcher fanfiction #witcher 3 blood and wine

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