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renegadesstuff · 10 months

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The ship 🤍 The first meeting 🥹

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #the witcher season 2 #the witcher season 1 #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season 3 vol 1 #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt and jaskier #jaskier and geralt #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #geraskier #1x02 #four marks #1x06 #rare species #2x07 #voleth Meir

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spilledbutter · 1 year

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it's funny to me how everyone calls posada a shithole because objectively it's pretty beautiful

like look at this howl's moving castle shit

fuckin airbender tavern

#asi rambles #posada #four marks #twn #the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcher #wiedzmin

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ehay · 2 years

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From the fic ‘Four Marks’ by Writers_Dilemma on AO3.

#yennefer of vengerberg #fan art #the witcher #fan fic #my art #colour colour everywhere #that djinn is not pleased about something #writers_dilemma #yennaia #composition assistance from #kitthekiwi #four marks

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writers-dilemma · 2 months

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Is Four Marks dead? Just want some closure so I can mourn

I don’t know if I ever answered this one or not, but no, Four Marks is not dead. But my life is deeply complicated at the moment and writing has been a huge challenge for me. It will be finished some day, I promise!

#anonymous #anon ask #four marks #yennaia #yennaia fanfic

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flootdraws · 9 months

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#flootdraws #art #flootzavut #Jaskier #joey batey #four marks #the Witcher #the witcher netflix #portrait #pencil portrait

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lifewithaview · 10 months

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Anya Chalotra in The Witcher (2019) Four Marks

as Yennefer

Bullied and neglected, Yennefer accidentally finds a means of escape. Geralt's hunt for a so-called devil goes to hell. Ciri seeks safety in numbers.

#The Witcher #tv series #S1E2 #Four marks #Yennefer #Anya Chalotra #magic #elves #Ciri #Geralt #fantasy #mystery #2019 #just watched

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autotragedywrites · 1 year

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An Alternate Perspective

We have a new entry to the Storyteller At Heart verse!! The year is 1240....

"You think you're safe, without a care... But here in Posada, you'd be wise to beware!" Jaskier sang as he spun about the room, lute in hand, trying to capture the attentions of the patrons at the strange, crooked inn he had come upon the night before. It had mysteriously gone quiet moments before, and he had taken it as a sign. It was his time to shine.

He continues his verses, fighting the tightness in his throat: they're loving you, they are, really! He tried to cheer himself on in the uncomfortable silence. The final line, and he had their attention, then, if the scowls and furrowed brows were anything to go by. "So that your lady may get an abortion!" He nearly shouted over the disapproving crowd, banging away on his instrument, aiming for a rousing finale.

"Abort yourself!" Echoed in his ears, a chorus of agreements and complaints, accompanied by a shower of stale bread.

Still better than the last one, he chides himself, not letting the sour atmosphere of the pub wear him down. It... wasn't his best work, sure, but they still gave him bread. It was stale, and god, more than a little moldy, but it was still bread.

Jaskier kneeled to gather the rolls strewn across the dusty wooden floorboards of Posada's one, lonely, leaning, tavern. This was a boring, stagnant, and altogether brown feeling sort of place. Something, though, had tickled the back of his mind. For some reason he felt like right now, this was the place to be. He couldn't put a finger on it, but it felt like the wind was pushing him here. He couldn't very well have left this morning with that itch left unscratched. Now, though, maybe it was time, he thought, dusting the floor grime off of what would likely be his dinner.

Someone kicked another piece of bread toward him, and when he looked up, his eyes landed not on the culprit, but on the startlingly large and dark figure across the room.

The man was sitting in the corner, taking up the whole corner, really, and clearly minding his own. At first, he was so still that he almost blended into the shadow; but an eye shine, a flash of gold, had caught Jaskier. It was like a string pulled taught; like whatever force pulling him here had boiled over.

Snatching a cup of sour wine from one of the keepers, he wove through the crowd - or what was left of it - towards the swordsman.

"Brooding in the corner like that... you didn't love my show, handsome?"

The cat was out of the bag, but he had to say it. If he tried to think too hard, he'd stutter, and he didn't want to fumble and miss his chance.

The man tucked a white hair under his cowl, but otherwise did not move, without looking up he said, "The road is tiresome."

Not impolitely, but honestly. And that voice, the rumble in it sent a shiver down his spine, almost as though he'd heard it before. It was nice, Jaskier decided.

"Oren for your thoughts?" He asked, with a small, hopeful, smile.

"No."

"Bread, then?" Jaskier reached out without thinking, pulling a loaf out of his pants.

"You've not seen a real monster, Bard." The man stood, and when he did, his hood fell back. "It shows." His hand lifted off the table and left behind a single coin. He quickly turned and walked away, grasping the two swords sheathed at his side.

"Y- You're the witcher- Geralt, Geralt of Rivia."

Jaskier said it louder than he meant to, and the crowd, which had oddly returned now that he'd stopped playing, heard. They washed the monster hunter away from him in a sea of demands and curses. He stared after them as if in a daze. His eyes drifted to the coin on the table, and he picked it up. He looked it over; it was plain, cold, and worn; virtually indistinguishable from any other. Today had very nearly started that way. It wouldn't end that way. He was supposed to be here.

He tossed the coin and caught it in midair with a flourish; it was an act of showmanship, entirely for himself. "Toss a coin..." He mumbled to himself, "I should use that."

Not an hour later, he was tailing Geralt, drunk on the idea of finding a purpose. He was borderline manic with it. He had a muse! A reason. The reason for singing, for writing, for wandering around the continent. This man and his golden eyes, his swords, sureness of his stead- there was an aura, a gravity, to him. Jaskier's story wasn't finished; perhaps it had barely begun being written, but Melitele be damned, he was ready to pick up the pen and start writing for someone else.

Jaskier had been wandering around all summer, sure he'd been on the road, but in terms of his life? He'd felt lost, as though he'd been marching off the trail, barely keeping time. In the back of his mind there was a whisper. He couldn't quite place it, but it was just enough to lead him. He'd traveled on and on, feeling as though he was barely keeping up with that thing he could not name, and watching as the coin he'd taken from Lettenhove slowly dwindled. Now he had hope again. He found a life to start entangling his own with- that was the hope at least. Though judging by the prolonged silence, it would be no easy task. Jaskier thought he was up to the challenge; he just had that feeling.

"I didn't invite you along." Geralt said, disrupting Jaskier from his thoughts.

"Oh," Jaskier cleared his throat, "I figured it was about time I saw a real monster."

For a long while, the witcher's only reply was a puff of breath from his nose as he lead his brown mare down the path. Then he spoke.

"You're not in luck then."

"I think I'll let destiny decide on that front." Jaskier replied, holding his chin up high. Surely, there was something out here, the villagers wouldn't waste their coin on a superstitious whim.

"Destiny is horseshit."

"And yet, here we are." Jaskier made a gesture to the field of crops they were approaching.

"Stay put." Geralt grumbled, pulling his swords off of his saddle bags.

"Oh, I think I'll be following you for a long time yet." Jaskier smiled.

"I was speaking to Roach," Geralt said, in a flat deadpan, stroking the horses mane with a gloved hand, avoiding Jaskier's eyes.

Jaskier's smiled broadened. "No you weren't."

Geralt said nothing, only turned with a huff, and walked sure of foot into the field of corn.

***

if you'd like, send this ficlet some love over on AO3, There, you can find all the other works in this series arranged nicely and neatly for your personal reading pleasure.

Much love!

#a storyteller at heart #an alternate perspective #witcher #witcher fic #witcher fanfic #geraskier #geraskier fic #four marks #posada #the witcher #tragedy writes #fic update #witcher au

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renfriscreyden · 2 years

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I'm just like him (calls inanimate objects sexy)