#it wasn't just Yennefer who changed Geralt | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

nnightskiess · 1 year

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everytime you leave, part three

₊° - 𝐲𝐞𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐟 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐠 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝘵𝘪𝘴𝘴𝘢𝘪𝘢 𝘮𝘪𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘩𝘢𝘷𝘦 𝘵𝘢𝘶𝘨𝘩𝘵 𝘺𝘦𝘯𝘯𝘦𝘧𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘴, 𝘣𝘶𝘵 𝘴𝘩𝘦 𝘯𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘵𝘰𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭 𝘵𝘰 𝘣𝘰𝘵𝘵𝘭𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳 𝘧𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴.

everytime you leave, masterlist

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿𝗼𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

𝐇𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐚𝐯𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐬 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐝 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐞... and fell around her like a curtain, tickling your bare chest as the mage above you admired the view. The corner of her mouth twirled upwards into a challenging grin as the rapid beating of your heart fell in rhythm with hers. But where she welcomed the feeling and longed for more, you froze underneath her in return as you felt her touch against the scarred burn marks, which you had refused to get rid of during your ascension. Without your scars, there would no longer be a reminder of who you were before and the life you had led. Yennefer felt the rough and tattered skin underneath her fingertips and was reminded of the few threads you had let loose about your past through the years. Even if you had never told her what had happened, at least not in detail, she counted it as a victory that you let her see the remains of your past, of everything you had buried deep within yourself. Aretuza had approved of your request to keep some of your scars, only if you would get rid of those that would be in view of the lords and ladies you were going to advise. In their eyes, it wasn’t proper for a mage to look battered and bruised, like the brutes of the Continent. Your scars would only distract and take away the illusion of your elegance and graceful knowledge. You had agreed to the compromise, knowing that no one would ever see the scars from that day forward, except for yourself. And Yennefer, as it seemed.

It was as if the sudden cold breeze that travelled into the room and made you shiver had pulled you back to her. Her warm breath tickled against your neck as she slowly placed a chaste kiss right where she could feel your heartbeat pick up even more. She smirked and nibbled at the flesh against your collarbone when she felt your breathing fasten by your rising chest flushed against her own bare skin. Feeling her breasts against your own, however, did nothing to ease your mind. You wanted this. You had so for years. In all truth, there would never be a living day where you wouldn't want to be Yennefer's whole world, as she had been yours for as long as you could remember. But it gnawed on you that perhaps Yennefer didn't want you as badly as you had yearned and longed for her. She was the most enchantingly beautiful woman you had ever known, although you had thought so even before the change during the ascension, and knew that she could have a different man, or woman, in her bed each day if she wanted. If the renowned and skilled Witcher Geralt of Rivia wasn't able to keep her around, then how could you be more interesting to her? Besides, Yennefer of Vengerberg had never been shy about her body and led her life with a certain sensuality of which she knew the effect it had on the people that met her. What if you were just another night of fun for her, nothing more, nothing less? Then again, if that was all this would ever be, couldn't you just be greedy and take the offer currently presented to you on a golden platter?

"You think too much," She mumbled into your hair as her lips planted a kiss behind your ear, "You'll find you'll enjoy yourself much more if you just give in." She chuckled lazily, and you wondered if she was too drunk for you to let this go on.

But what did she mean? Give in to what? To Yennefer's fingertips softly grazing over your nipples and making their way further down? Or to the magnetic pull you had felt around her for years? One thing was certain; there was no going back, and things would change drastically whether this moment would be regretted or not. You cursed the bottles of brandy and apple cider you had torn through together when you tasted the sweet liquor on Yennefer's tongue as it slipped between your lips, softly massaging with your own.

"I'll take good care of you." She mumbled against your lips, her voice dripping with arousal and lust, but was alarmed when her wrist was clenched tightly by you. She retreated and those big, violet eyes looked down at you in worry. It should have been clear to you then and there, that you too were well past tipsy when you didn't look away under her stare like you normally would. Instead, you looked back into her softened eyes, those eyes that felt like a breeze travelling through a field of lavender on a Spring morning, but the blazing storm clashing against Aretuza's walls as well.

"Do you want me?"

There it was; the quiver in her voice that signalled she felt as small as she had on those first few nights at Aretuza. With a touch as soft as honey, the hand that wasn't locked by your grip found its way to yours, where her thumb grazed a lazy pattern on the back of your hand. Her touch was feathery and it amazed you how gentle your normally so outspoken, headstrong and temperamental friend was. That surprise wasn't fair of you, for you had seen past the layers years ago. You knew it was there, that soft side, but you were too intoxicated by the alcohol in your system and too addicted to her touch and attention to realise she needed your reassurance more than anything in this moment. And perhaps even too distracted to realise that for Yennefer, this was different. This wasn't a passionate night to let loose with someone she had no emotional attachment to. This was you, and she would take her time showing you how much you truly meant to her. But right now, she wanted and needed you to say it out loud. To grant her proof that she hadn't been delusional each time you two had left. Did you feel the same ache in your heart every time she left you? But, admitting it out loud was a leap far too big for you, at least for right now, seeing as you were afraid you'd spill all of your heart's secrets if you started.

Yennefer's lips parted slightly in worry as her eyes quickly wandered around the room to the table of empty cups and glasses. She wasn't too far gone, she knew how to handle her liquor, and perhaps you weren't either, but maybe she could play it off as if she were, as if this was but a mere drunken mistake, just to protect her heart in case she had misread things and you would reject her or look at her differently come morning. There was no one Yennefer would rather have in her arms than you, but she would never open her heart to even entertaining herself with the idea of it, seeing as she was fairly certain that there was no epic love waiting for her in this life or any of the next. Not even a Djin's wish had been able to grant her the dream to finally be of importance to someone. To love and to care and to protect, and to get all of it in return in thousandfold. But if she could just only show you how much you meant to her during this supposed drunken night, then shouldn't she just take the chance?

Her words had already vanished in the air and you felt as if too much time had passed to answer her now. Surely the way you looked at her was an answer of its own, right? Your hands travelled up her thighs that had you trapped in your place beneath her and rested comfortably on the curve of her hips. With a slight squeeze on her skin and a pull of your hands, Yennefer realised what you wanted her to do. Her hips rolled and at even the smallest touch of friction, a gasp escaped her mouth, followed by a low moan. When her lips parted and her raven locks fell in front of her face once more, you didn't close your eyes but looked up at her and felt your heart want to break through your ribcage, needing to remember this forever. You fell into a blissful haze, no longer being led by your inhibitions.

That night, Yennefer's body glued to yours was the only thing on your mind, not the inevitable aftermath or the thought that the same night that was making both your hearts explode, would also be the reason why they would shatter into a million pieces years later.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

The nasty smells of animal carcasses had now been replaced by flesh cooking above an open fire. Night had fallen and after a long day of preparations, everyone could do with a filled stomach and a pint of ale. Yennefer had shut herself out from everything today and had not spoken a word ever since you had grabbed her heart and squeezed long enough until it had splashed and splattered. She had done her best to evade each conversation and shut down small talk with anyone around her, but it seemed that there was no avoiding people anymore if she wanted a plate of food.

She had grabbed the plate that was offered to her by one of the men standing above the pot of boiling beans with potatoes. She withheld a scowl when it made a distasteful sound as it fell against her plate. It had been ages since she'd had a poor man's meal like this, but she couldn't care less now that she felt the way she did. She wasn't even that hungry anyway. She sat to the side on one of the logs where she could silently absorb what was going on around her, but she wasn't granted her peaceful meal when Triss landed on a seat next to her. The redhead's slender fingers pried her piece of meat apart and gave Yennefer the other. Yennefer dipped her head in a silent thank you, but didn't want to give the woman next to her a reason to start a conversation.

However, it seemed that Triss didn't need one, for she opened her mouth before she had even tasted anything off her plate, "Last time I ate this robust was when I was helping a Witcher. We had set up camp somewhere in a valley for the night and when we couldn't-"

Yennefer let out a big sigh and didn't hide how annoyed she was by the intrusion of her peace. Triss stopped, smiled bashfully and somewhat regretfully, and turned to focus on the plate on her lap. They ate in silence without another word being exchanged. Yennefer tried her best to gracefully pry some meat off the bone without making it too messy and quickly found out it would be better to just leave the questionable mixture of beans and potatoes alone.

When they were both as good as finished, Triss nibbled on her lower lip. Was she going to put herself between both her friends? One thing was certain, she would forever regret it if she could have been the one to mend things between you. It was childish and unnecessary to be on such terms before a big battle, but perhaps the same stress and pressure everyone was feeling, had been too much for you both and had caused you to fight and handle things irrationally.

What it had been about, she wasn't too sure, though she could take a wild guess, she could only sense that it involved a lot of emotion and held heavy importance to both of you, going by the atmosphere she had walked in on.

"Y/N, is she-"

"I don't want to talk about her." Yennefer shut her down immediately.

Triss opened her mouth in protest and furrowed her eyebrows. Sure, everyone knew of Yennefer's temper, but she had never lashed out on her like this over something she wasn't even involved in. Though, perhaps that was exactly why she had lashed out.

"Listen, I don't want to come between you two but I really-"

"Then don't." Yennefer's head shot sideways and her lilac eyes sent daggers at Triss, who in return pursed her lips.

"Why would you part ways the way you did? We could be dead tomorrow, Gods, even before the sun rises again!" Triss' empathetic doe-eyes softened and begged Yennefer to listen to her. Yennefer didn't have it in her to crush her friend's kind spirit once more and kept her thoughts to herself, and instead pushed herself up. "Go find Y/N, and this time, listen to what she has to say instead of shutting her out again. Be reasonable for once, Yen. You'll be left all alone if you continue to treat people the way you do. Y/N won't stick around forever."

Yennefer turned around with a sneer on her lip. Triss had hit her right where it hurt the most. Alone... wasn't she already? Hadn't you already distanced yourself from her?

"Having someone around has only ever resulted in disappointment."

"Yennefer!" Triss spluttered but watched the raven-haired mage walk off nonetheless.

Yennefer's quick steps were adamant to get her out of there immediately, but a voice made her stop in her tracks.

"The ale won't disappoint you, that much I can promise." Tissaia held a tankard outreached in front of her to take, an invitation to sit with her as a soft smile tried to coax her to accept the offer.

Not wanting her rectoress to sense the weakness that had occurred mere seconds before, Yennefer straightened her posture and accepted the drink. She sighed defeatedly, "Ah, why not? We should enjoy it while we can. It's the first thing Nilfgaard will destroy."

"Must you always be so fatalistic?"

"You'll find that it's my most admired quality," Yennefer all but huffed, earning a snort and a shake of the head from the woman next to her. The two turned to each other with amusement glinting evidently in their eyes.

The moment faded and Tissaia cleared her throat, "We both know there's more to you than meets the eye. You just have a habit of not letting anyone see what truly lies beneath."

It was true, Yennefer hadn't only been bottling her chaos for years, but had managed to master bottling her feelings, emotions and all of her inner turmoil as well.

Yennefer ignored her and took a sip of the ale. She felt the warmth of the alcohol slide down her throat, wrapping around her like a welcoming but prickly woollen blanket in the cold of the night. It burned, but more satisfying than the lump she had tried to swallow down a while back.

"What's the matter?" Tissaia turned to her, worry and intrigue etched into her features. Not shooting back a witty reply was foreign for Yennefer. Tissaia tried to get through Yennefer's blockade, to hear her thoughts, to see her worries, but the mage had sealed them off expertly.

"Besides possibly coming to our ends soon?" Yennefer turned to the woman beside her with an amused grin on her face, but Tissaia could see the turmoil swarming through her violet pools.

"Are you ready then? To die?"

The question didn't catch Yennefer off guard at all, for she knew her former rectoress always liked a direct approach. She had been on the receiving end of that bluntness for years, after all. And although it had crushed her at first, for all she wanted as an unwanted and unloved child was just some love and recognition, she was happy it had made her tough enough to overcome each obstacle she'd had to face so far.

Without hesitation, Yennefer spoke, "Yes. I've lived two or three lifetimes already."

Tissaia gave her a knowing look, "But you haven't been satisfied in any of them."

Yennefer felt her throat tighten and her chest ache as she thought of all that had happened in those lifetimes. Of the dreadful years at Court, of the ache of not having the person she longed for most around. She took another sip of the ale and felt some of the weight lift off her shoulders, "I've tried. But I've got no legacy to leave behind. No family, no...Nothing worth staying alive for." Yennefer looked off into the distance and watched the shadows of the people around the fire dance against the walls of the Keep. She hated herself for needing to cast the memory of you aside like that, as if you had no value to her. She knew better though, and she knew she couldn't dwell on the empty feeling she felt, not tonight. "It's time to accept that life has no more to give."

Tissaia looked down and softly shook her head, swirling the ale in her tankard absentmindedly as her thoughts wandered off. It pained her to hear one of her dearest students seem so unhappy. In fact, it pained her to see both of you this way. Tissaia wasn't stupid. She knew about everything.

She grabbed Yennefer's underarm softly, but tugged at the fabric of her dress to give her words more impact, "You have so much left to give... and there is so much you have yet to receive. If you can just open your eyes."

With those words, she left Yennefer to ponder as she disappeared into the crowd of drunk people trying to drink their worries away and celebrate what could be their last night.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

"What are you sulking about?"

You heard her before you noticed her, but she appeared not long after out of the shadows, a tankard of ale in her hands and the smell of the liquid on her breath as well.

Tissaia's voice held a hint of amusement as she softly bumped your arm and brought the cup of ale to her lips. You were leaning against the cold brick wall, looking out over the people drinking and having fun on what could be one of their last nights- one of your last nights.

You grunted and shrugged, "Life."

Tissaia let out a dry chuckle, for she could not imagine a better fit than two of her favourite students. You usually weren't as pessimistic as Yennefer was, but it humoured her how you perfectly complimented the other mage and her mood this night.

"What about it?" She leaned against the wall beside you and followed your line of sight.

"How it's not as I had imagined it to be."

Tissaia's amusement disappeared when she noticed you weren't being sarcastic or overly dramatic; you were speaking from the heart, from a heart that was shattered. Seeing you were going to vent, she kept her mouth shut.

"-I've had no freedom, no perfect family...not even one grande lover."

"But you had a chance at life. Multiple, to be exact. That's more than the young girl I found between the ashes that morning could have ever imagined."

Silence washed over you and your old mentor. Tissaia made a move to bring the cup back to her lips when she realised you probably needed to loosen up and let go of your turmoil more than she did.

You kindly pushed her hand away, "I shouldn’t. I tend to ruin things when I drink."

"You don't want to drink away your nerves and worries on what could well be our last night? You must really be ready to die then." Tissaia seemed amused by it, but deep down she was anything but. This wasn't you. The usual light in your eyes was nowhere to be found. Instead, your eyes looked around the encampment as if you had already lost. And you had lost, in your eyes at least. You had lost Yennefer.

"I just realise I ran out of time and that it has caught up to me, and I might never be able to right my wrongs. I have a hard time coming to terms with the knowledge that that is how I'll die."

Tissaia inspected your features, picked apart all your little tells that she had picked up on over the years at Aretuza, and therefore knew you weren't done speaking,

"Then again- I've lived many lives, for which I should be grateful... but if they're all going to be the same... and if the alternative is another few decades serving daft and criminal lords at court, living an awfully boring life and not receiving the happiness I so long for, then... if I die... it is what it is. Though I hope it will be worth it, I’d hate to die in vain and have Nilfgaard march over my corpse."

"Being a mage is an awfully lonely life. It is a life of solitude." Tissaia spoke softly, "But that's the price we all paid when we made the promise and decided to serve the Continent."

"I don't think I had any other choice." You noted, thinking of the theoretical dungeon you had been locked away in ever since you had first stepped foot in Aretuza. In more ways than one, your chaos and aptitude for magic had both been your greatest gift and your worst nightmare.

Tissaia fell quiet beside you and she pondered over her words for a while, "Did I make you feel like you hadn't?"

A sigh escaped you, for Tissaia had promised you a safe sanctuary after what had happened in your village. You knew very well that if your ripple in chaos hadn't happened on that damned night, you would have been among the dead by sunrise. Shaking, burned, feverish and full of terror, you felt like the only thing you could do was accept the hand the well-dressed and poised woman in front of you had offered. The rest had been history.

"Within one night, I had lost it all and gained so much back in return."

"But at what cost?" Tissaia finished for you.

You could only repeat her words as you looked out to the group of people, which included some of the friends you had made at Aretuza.

"At what cost."

She felt your restless mind as you could sense hers, and it didn't take long before the prospect of what was to happen caused you to let more bittersweet words flow out of your mouth.

"If I didn't take my chances during all these years, then nothing will change if I live to see another day. It just hurts that I only now start to realise and regret it all..." Your voice died down and Tissaia pushed herself off the wall to take a better look at you.

When you looked back into her eyes, you realised you had never seen them with this much empathy. Although still, you could also see the disappointment in them. Knowing the woman you had looked up to most in your life felt that way towards you at this moment right now, made your stomach fall as it had done so over and over whenever she was giving you a hard time at Aretuza. The sudden feeling that washed over you made you shy away into that corner she had pushed you towards for years, and so you decided to elaborate, hoping she would see reason,

"Everyone I've once cared for died years ago. They died with the old me that night in the village. I'm not leaving anyone behind. So even if I do regret not taking certain chances, there's nothing I can do about it now."

Tissaia tilted her head, seeing right through the lie you were trying to convince yourself of, "Everyone?"

You couldn't help yourself when your eyes wandered over the people sprawled about the ruins, but they never found the woman you were looking for. Without asking, you took the cup out of Tissaia's hand and took a big gulp.

"Everyone."

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

Yennefer watched you with all the focus she could muster, her eyes flicking between your concentrated expression and the space in front of your hands, but no matter how hard you tried, no portal appeared.

"Sabrina- show her how it's done, or else we'll be here all week." Tissaia dismissed you without giving you so much as another look and was already making her way to the other side of the room.

"No! She almost got it!" Yennefer protested, having seen a sliver of a glowing and reflecting thin sheet floating between your hands, and hating how Tissaia's dismissal had made you frown in embarrassment and lose all momentum.

"Do you want to be next, piglet? You couldn't even lift a pebble with your mind if your life depended on it."

The girls fell quiet, their eyes nervously flitting across each other's faces. But not you, who took Tissaia's words to Yennefer to heart as well, "I don't think that was very-"

Tissaia finally turned around and stared you down for speaking out of turn, "You only speak when spoken to, pup. Or are you so desperate for me to forbid you from following classes all of next week? A shame. You could do with extra classes or you'd be one of Aretuza's greatest disappointments. Both of you." She said with a tone of finality.

You cowered slightly and dropped your head in shame, making Yennefer's face harden and her fists ball in rage.

"Good. You're more tolerable when you're quiet." Tissaia walked towards Sabrina and continued the lesson.

But from right beside you, Yennefer's little finger slowly hooked around your own, a silent reassurance that you two would always have each other's back. Even if you would forever be known as Aretuza's greatest failure.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

The multiple firepits that were lit all around the courtyard of the Keep flickered, warming everyone who rested around, fast asleep. A few people stood guard on the castle walls. Their shadows danced around the ruins each time they switched places. Tissaia had ordered every mage to try and get some rest, to preserve their energy, to fuel their chaos. It made her feel like a hypocrite, seeing as she was wide awake. She looked across the grounds, her eyes falling on the many sleeping people and among them, her group of mages. Who was to say how many of the women she had raised throughout all her lifetimes would survive this battle? She would be the woman who had built them and who would be the reason for their destruction as well. It pained her, but to serve the Continent and keep its inhabitants safe, this was what needed to be done. Although they were all there, Yennefer was nowhere in sight. But she knew you were around by the thoughts keeping you up. Your bottle must have been empty, seeing as you paid little mind to shield her away from your thoughts. She could hear your insecurities, your worries, felt the new pain of your heartache and the old of all the lives before, heard Yennefer's name echo, saw the woman's face and smelt the familiar scent of lilac and gooseberries. Your mind was a mess. No wonder it kept you up.

Her eyes tried to search the people, to see if she could figure out where you were exactly. The light of the fires blinded her view, but she finally saw your figure when a harsh wind blew the fire to just a small flame for a split second. She watched as you sat cross-legged and your eyes stared deadly into the fire. A warm blanket was wrapped around your shoulders as a dazed look coated your face. You seemed as calm as ever, others would even pass it off as you just being tired, but Tissaia'd had you under her wing for years. She knew better.

Movement caught your eye and you watched your old rectoress approach, careful not to wake anybody. She sat down on the blanket next to you, her eyes following the flickering of the flames. She didn't say anything, and neither did you, not for a while at least.

Your voice was hoarse as you opened your mouth to talk,

"I lied."

The sound got faded away by the wind and the ambience of the night, but Tissaia had heard you nonetheless.

"I know," She spoke in return.

The fire crackled and along with some people snoring and the wind softly travelling through the ruins, it was suddenly eerily quiet. Nilfgaard was out there, somewhere, preparing. People would lose their freedom, their homes, their loved ones, their lives and your biggest selfish concern was if you had already lost Yennefer before the big battle could even begin.

"You haven't."

Tissaia's spoke up, letting you know she had read your thoughts. It should have made your cheeks rise in heat that you had failed to close off your thoughts, worried about what else she might have seen or heard, but instead, you accepted the reassurance.

"Yennefer is as stubborn as she is powerful, but what she couldn't do then, she has mastered now; bottling her power, her chaos... bottling her feelings." She emphasised.

You turned to look at her, but she kept her gaze focused on the fire.

"As have you." She then looked up to watch your reaction, "You have bottled your feelings for decades, and now that same bottle has exploded right into your face." Her words were stern, as were her hard eyes, but you knew her words came from a place of love, for she would otherwise never have bothered to talk to you to ease your mind.

Her answer came before you could even ask her,

"It is not too late. But first, we defend Sodden, you have spent multiple lifetimes wondering about the what-ifs, prolonging that unknown territory for a few days longer shouldn’t hurt." She softly grabbed your chin, her expression softening, "I need you focused and ready, so you can make me proud again, my dearest girl."

The tired smile on your face made her retract her hand, knowing you had understood her request of putting the battle of Sodden before your own gains first. You were a mage, after all, and you had to serve the Continent before serving yourself. It gave you a new sense of hope that after all of this, you would finally grant yourself the freedom you wanted. Even if that meant putting your heart on the line.

☾ ⋆*·ﾟ:⋆*·ﾟ:⠀ *⋆.*:·ﾟ .: ⋆*·ﾟ: .⋆

It had been a nice sentiment, to want to wait for the inevitable until after Nilfgaard was dealt with, but Triss' words had released something in Yennefer and had made her see reason. She was not going to die before she knew the truth.

You had barely slipped into a troublesome sleep until someone shook you awake. Confused and alerted, your eyes shot open, only to see Yennefer hover above you, nothing similar to the last time she had hovered above you. Her face was stern and you searched her eyes for any sign of the softness you always so loved to see in them, but no matter how long you looked, they were void of it.

"We need to talk."

As if she could read your thoughts, she huffed and stood back up, offering you a hand, "Forgive me for seeing reason and not wanting to die still hating you." She softly rolled her eyes, but you could hear she spoke her harsh words halfheartedly. Still, it hurt to hear her speak of hate when talking of you.

With her help, you stood up and quietly tiptoed behind her as she led you down the hill to a more secluded place, where you could talk without your voice barely reaching above a whisper to not wake anyone up.

Suddenly she stopped, and you had to be careful to not bump into her back. It seemed as if she could no longer stop her thoughts from raising. Whatever was on her mind, she needed to get it off right now. Before you could react or express your surprise, her words surprised you even more,

"You hate me." She stated more than asked as she turned around to look at you with that hard glare in her eyes. It scared you how quickly she had built her walls back up and shut you out.

"No, Yen, not at all! I could never." You grasped forward in an attempt to hold her hand, but she took a step back, distancing herself from you.

"Somehow, somewhere along the line, I have done something incredibly stupid to upset you. I don't know what's more pathetic; me not knowing what it is, or you not telling me."

This time, it was you who took a step back, but Yennefer didn't want to let you walk away from this again and closed the distance. Now it was she who reached out for you, and you let her as your fingers grazed together as they had done days earlier in Aretuza's council room.

With a trembling voice, she spoke, "Y/N please, don't make me beg you." She searched your eyes for the words your voice couldn't utter. She exhaled shakingly, granting you the last chance to speak up before she knew she would be done, "What do I mean to you?" She clenched her jaw shut as soon as the words had left her mouth, ready for impact. But no matter how heartbroken she would be, she needed to know the answer before she could get her peace.

Tissaia's words still rang through her mind;

"Even if you were a beauty, no one would love you."

"No matter how hard you'll try, there's no one who will ever love a piglet like you."

"Do you think anyone would care if you died?"

She heard them even now, years later, and they had fed her insecurity ever since they had left Tissaia's mouth. Her former rectoress had planted the seed of doubt in Yennefer's mind that she wasn't meant to be loved and cared for. Tissaia had shown that much herself during her time at Aretuza. Yennefer didn't want to admit it, didn't want those words to be given so much power, but she had let them take over, even going as far as restricting herself from ever fully opening up to the woman she adored most, for Tissaia's words must be true; no pup would ever love a piglet. She had rather lived in bliss and in her own crafted fairytale than face the harsh truth, but if she were to die soon, then she needed to know.

Yennefer searched your face as much as she could in the dark, but your mouth stayed agape and words didn't follow. Growing frustrated, she raised her voice,

"Do I mean nothing to you?!"

You wanted to scream, to shout all that you had bottled up ever since first meeting this wonderful mage standing in front of you, whose chest rumbled with thunder and whose heart was bigger than she knew herself, but it was as if you had clawed out your own vocal cords. Sure, you had known what Yennefer wanted to talk about, but you had never imagined her to surprise you with it the way she had. You should've known better though, seeing as Yennefer was an unpredictable bomb whenever she felt like was out of control.

"You mean- I... you-"

Yennefer moved her head at your stuttering in a way that would have otherwise been seen as comical, but you were on the brink of tears. This was it. Not even hours ago you had acted all melancholic and tough when speaking to Tissaia, yet now, it seemed as if you couldn't even muster up the courage to just spill the truth.

However, your torturous dilemma was cut short when a searing ball of fire soared through the air and lit your surroundings.

Its final destination? The ruins of Sodden.

𝗽𝗹𝗲𝗮𝘀𝗲 𝗱𝗼 𝗻𝗼𝘁 𝗰𝗼𝗽𝘆, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝘂𝗯𝗹𝗶𝘀𝗵, 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝗻𝘀𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗲, 𝗿𝗲𝗽𝗿��𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗲 𝗼𝗿 𝘂𝘀𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲 𝗼𝗻 𝘄𝗮𝘁𝘁𝗽𝗮𝗱 𝗼𝗿 𝗼𝗻 𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘁𝗳𝗼𝗿𝗺𝘀. 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗮𝘂𝘁𝗵𝗼𝗿’𝘀 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 <3

#yennefer of vengerberg one shot #yennefer x reader #yennefer of vengerberg x reader #yennefer of vengerberg imagine #yennefer imagine #the witcher imagines #the witcher imagine

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plotvichka · 2 months

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! Major The Witcher books finale spoiler !

(Maybe everyone knows this but I just wanna be safe)

I've been thinking how strange it must be for Anya to have shot The Last Wish with Henry and then shoot The Rivian Pogrom with Liam.

Of course the change is gonna be hard for every cast member, but especially for Anya, Freya, and Joey. Their characters have the most number of scenes with Geralt since s1. It's going to be a huge adjustment for them, but I believe they are professionals and they can act just as well as before. What I'm talking about in this post is more about the emotional side of the tragic scene in Rivia and who does interact with whom.

Dandelion/Jaskier is in the crowd in the final scene. He wasn't involved in the scene of Geralt's death as an active participant like Yennefer and Ciri were, but he still was there. A bystander who can only watch his friend dying while Geralt's daughter and wife are all over his dying body.

Ciri is the accuser. Ciri was the one losing her father figure and yelling at her mother for not being able to save him. So Freya's job in the scene is the emotional involvement with Anya mostly. She is watching Geralt dying, but she thinks she can't do anything as long as there's Yennefer who is willing to do all the job.

Yennefer is the desperate savior. Finally, Yennefer is the only person in there who's doing something. She dies/loses consciousness trying to save her lover, the person she met over 20 years ago. It is a long way and they have a long history and it all leads to that moment. Her lying dead next to dead Geralt. The one who saved her from the djinn by binding their lives. Anya is basically the one in that scene who interacts with Geralt the most and it must be wild to act like losing a person who has a different face from the one she met in the beginning.

Idk what this post is about. I just couldn't stop thinking about Anya and Liam in the end, lying there in the mud. It just feels weird to have Yennefer almost die for the face that's not the one she met all those years ago. I know it's only a face and it's still Geralt. I just feel like this is so wrong.

#my weird thoughts ig #the witcher #the witcher books #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #yenralt #cirilla of cintra #cirilla fiona elen riannon #jaskier #anya chalotra #henry cavill #freya allan #joey batey

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thenightling · 11 months

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"We just want book accuracy!"

It's funny, when you think about what matters to The Witcher "We just want it to stay faithful to the books" crowd.

Season 1 of The Witcher had jumps in time and messed with the ages of Geralt and Yennefer. Both don't age but their ages are different in the books.

Season 1 of The Witcher made Jaskier brown haired (He's actually blond in the novels).

Season 1 of the Witcher changed which parent Yennefer's elfish bloodline came from.

Jaskier wrote songs that do not exist in the books.

Jaskier's bard cap with feather doesn't exist in The Witcher Netflix series.

__________________

In season 2 of The Witcher Yennefer was tempted by a Baba Yaga inspired character (who didn't even exist in the books) to sacrifice Ciri to get her powers back. The entire scenario never happened in the books.

Season 2 of The Witcher features Jaskier writing a breakup song about Geralt that doesn't exist in the books.

Season 2 of The Witcher has Jaskier take on a persona known as The Sandpiper to smuggle people safely away from those that mean them harm. His Sandpiper persona doesn't even exist in the books.

Also in Season 2 of The Witcher one of Geralt's friends, a fellow Witcher, is portrayed with a very different personality from what he had in the books and gets killed off. This also never happened in the books.

Even the way the Beauty and the Beast-esque story played out changed Geralt's reaction to everything and put Ciri there when she wasn't there in the original version.

_______________

But Jaskier gets revealed as bisexual and has an infatuation with someone who gets revealed as evil and that evil character is now decades older than he was in the books and suddenly there's a pearl clutch "But the source material!" and "But he was straight in the books! This MUST be the reason Henry Cavill left!"

Yeah, because I'm Suuuure the reason Henry Cavill quit a TV series that already heavily deviated from the books its based on, was because his sidekick character was revealed as being bisexual. Because THAT is what was most important to him! Riiiiight.

You know, I'm highly suspicious of the notion that you just want book accuracy...

#Jaskier #Buttercup #Dandelion #The Witcher #Witcher

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limerental · 1 year

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here, have a half-finished witcher americana retelling I've been sitting on for years now. I didn't quite have the gusto to go everywhere I wanted with it but here she is. I got in my yenralt & ciri feelings mostly :')

It did not go like this:

Yennefer was born the unfortunate eldest daughter of a local farmer of dairy goats and hogs, the sort of farm built into a gully that boiled up with mud and shit when it rained. Born all twisted up in the womb, her spine curved in a permanent hunch.

Some devil got to her mama, her daddy always said, leaning on a fencepost, hard-eyed and jeering as he spit tobacco into the dust.

Some devil had likely looked a lot like the young man her mama fancied just a few months before she was married quick to her daddy.

The devil long vanished off to the city.

Yennefer was no good for farm work, but she could do well enough bussing tables at the diner off the main road. She worked there more hours than not for less than scraps, but she did her work and ducked her head and kept mostly quiet about it. If she was just patient enough and careful, she could find her way out of there in time.

Yennefer kept a secret.

She'd been born with witchcraft hidden in her crooked body, the sort that ran in rich veins through the land itself. The kind that sang in the creek-carved ravines and thrummed through the gnarled roots and swaying branches of the forest.

She could call the animals to her and find anything lost and drive out the snakes from the chicken coop with a word, and she'd heard stories about things like that all her life so wasn't surprised by the possibility at all. Except for the fact that no one had ever taught her those things, and nobody knew she could do it.

In only a few short months she'd come into the full depth of her magic and the Witch would come for her and changed her life for good.

Before that, she met Geralt.

Yennefer'd long given up fantasies of being spirited away, thinking about strangers' lives with the kind of detached daydreaming of a girl who did dull work for ceaseless hours.

She wondered who this man was, old enough to have seen the war but younger than her daddy, who had been exempt from the draft on grounds of being a farmer. Which was good fortune, because he would have made a bloodthirsty soldier.

Geralt was a simple man who worked in travelling pest control. His beat up company van coughed over the miles, tools of the trade rattling in the back, big cartoon rat grinning evilly painted across the side.

Geralt kept a secret.

He knew every trick and gimmick to eliminate a rodent problem, could give his usual spiel about baiting and trapping to any fellow who asked, but had never employed anything that mundane even once. The pests he controlled and catalogued tended to be bigger and meaner and not as pretty splashed over the panels of a van.

Monsters were real, and he knew them by name. Kept tabs on the quiet ones and put down the loud and messy ones.

Always respectfully, that is.

Most of them weren't evil, just creatures as old as the land or older, the growing civilizations on this Continent encroaching more and more on the wild places they had once owned.

The war was many years over, and they said the future was bright. The future was now. Geralt didn't know by what metric they measured those things, because to him the world looked the same as always.

He'd done pest control enlisted in the war too, chasing the sort of monsters that paled in their wretched cruelty in comparison to men. Most of the things he sought out were just trying to survive with shrinking odds in a world rapidly forgetting them.

Geralt got that.

Got it in ways rural poor America did, living the same rusted out life they always had, going on in the usual quaint and tragic ways.

Yennefer didn't quite get it yet, but she was going to.

She poured burnt coffee for the grey-haired stranger in the far booth, a typical dusty midday silence settled over the diner. The slanted cartoon eyes of the rat on his sepia-toned van stared at her from where it was parked beside the pumps.

Places in towns this small wore many faces, general store, filling station, and diner in one. The main road was a common route north, and Yennefer liked to wonder where passersby were going, what lives they led. Imagine what faces they hid from the world, same as her.

Geralt had a job out this way with a few hours left to drive, hoping the company van didn't shit the bed again before he made it there, and he watched the waitress' hands shake as she poured him his coffee. Crooked through the shoulders, she limped when she walked and seemed to have trouble with the weight of the full carafe. Geralt smiled at her, an ugly, little smile on a face unused to such gestures, but the girl smiled back. He hoped they paid her fair. She had nice eyes, sharp and a cool violet.

Yennefer brought him a slice of apple pie and wondered where the stranger'd got his scars. He had a number of them on his face and hands alone, pink puckers and angry mauve ridges and was sure to have more hidden by his dark coveralls. Probably the war. If it had been the other waitress working, the chatty one, she would have asked, mister, did you get those in the war, must have gotten half blown to hell, but Yennefer didn't ask.

She smoothed her hands down the front of her starched apron and got back to work filling salt shakers, and neither spoke a word to the other.

Geralt didn't make much of a living on the road, but he lived simple and didn't need much anyhow. The pie was an extravagance, tart and sweet. The girl had working hands, calloused. He thought of saying something to her, making conversation, but he didn't. There was the sound of flies humming against the dust-streaked glass, the occasional rumble of traffic on the road, the quiet noise of his fork on chipped china.

He didn't stick around to watch his dollar tip fluster Yennefer's cheeks red. Didn't look back at all. If he had, he would have seen her pause in the screen door to watch him drive off, wondering about what sort of work he did in a strange vehicle like that, what sort of man he was.

The van's ignition choked and then caught. He had some miles to go.

Neither left a lasting impression on the other at that first unremarkable meeting, but when Yennefer next saw him two decades on, she knew him at once in the way that witches always know those sorts of things.

How fascinating it was to see that the stranger looked exactly the same despite the years. Same greyed hair, same dour expression, probably same pale orange van parked at the edge of the festival grounds. Witchers didn't age the same as men, after all, and that's the sort of thing she saw he was. Perilously slow heartbeat, calculating look in his newspaper yellow eyes, scars curved by talon and tooth and not shrapnel.

Geralt had known what she was by her description, whispered low and reverant like something holy, that this woman was no ordinary medic. Knew before he parted the canvas flap of a shabby tent in some muddy, over-trodden field and stepped into an opulent throne room, the stone walls hung with erotic tapestries, the high ceiling shimmering with a cloud of stars.

The witch herself sprawled perfectly naked on a high-backed throne with a seat of red velvet. Alone, she looked on in detached interest, still as a statue, a haughty and omnipotent sentinel. Geralt thought her ethereal, beautiful, enthralling.

Trouble.

In truth, Yennefer was wretchedly hungover after a riotous orgy the night before and could avoid the throbbing of her temples if only she kept perfectly still.

It was by her eyes, shrewd and violet, that, with a jolt of surprise up his spine, Geralt recognized her as the crooked waitress from the diner many years past.

There'd always been witches hidden behind any great power, old world or new. King Arthur ruled by the guiding hand of the wizard Merlin and JFK by a blonde starlet in a snow white dress, though none would ever have taken the latter for a sorceress.

How tiresome it was, thought Yennefer, how empty, how thankless.

Geralt sighed and adjusted his hold on the unconscious Dandelion's thighs, hitching his friend higher across his back as he wheezed into Geralt's ear. Would have rather gone elsewhere. Would have rather the idiot had not offended the ancient, moth-winged creature Geralt had come to reason with into making less noise.

But there was no talking sense into Dandelion. Damn lucky the creature the locals here called Mothman hadn't thought to curse him with something more severe than whatever ailed him.

It didn't take kindly to flirting.

Dandelion was a poet and a philanderer and a starchild and a balladeer and a free spirit and a scholar and a conscientious objecter and a right pain in Geralt's ass, except that he was also good to talk to and steadfastly humorous even all these years on and the sort of friend who remembered little details like your brand of cigarettes or your favorite candy, who Geralt liked even for his numerous flaws because Geralt liked most people truly and was a good man and loved deeply and loved consistently with his whole damn too-big heart.

"A friend?" asked Yennefer and Geralt shrugged.

What happened next happened the way it always did in every version of the story.

Two broken, fragile-hearted people and something close to tenderness.

It didn't happen like this:

Somebody had a pest problem, a wealthy widow with a pretty young daughter. Somebody'd cursed a poor son of a bitch into beastly form. Said he roamed the hills howling by night and walked the streets a man by day.

The curse broke in the usual way, just as Geralt said. The daughter's kiss on a full moon. True love and all. Happily ever after.

Except a new war broke and in time, it widowed the daughter too and her poor heart couldn't take the grief, and then the market turned sour and the wealthy widow lost her fortune and hung herself in the pantry. Geralt got a letter naming him next of kin by some questionably legitimate legal twist of fate and then, he sighed deep and resigned and drove north to pick up the girl.

It wasn't so unusual in his line of work, strange orphans scattered all over like grisly flotsam. But he didn't usually see to raising them. He'd never had a father besides the old man, and he'd never thought much of having his own children.

He couldn't know the true dark web of conspiracy around her and would never know the whole of it. The sort of man her daddy was to bear a curse like that in the first place. The old and intricate magicks, bound up in blood and circumstance. The sort of woman young Ciri would be.

Even if he'd known, Geralt would have drove to get her even so. He found the girl buck-toothed and scrawny and lugging a too heavy briefcase down the slumped front stoop of the elderly neighbor who'd been putting her up. Hair the pale color of woodsmoke, eyes like her mama, green as a copper kettle.

And just like her mama, young Ciri had some whisper of something else in her. Something carried over from older lands than this and bolstered by the ancient things here, passed on like the detritus of trauma gained generation to generation. Something tainted and bigger than he had the know-how to suss out.

Geralt sat down and fumblingly wrote a letter.

Meanwhile, young Ciri passed an idyllic summer and cold as tits winter on the isolated Morhen ranch in the rural mountains. She'd never worked a farm before and never even seen a farm animal up close, especially not a ranch like that one which was straight out of some pastoral fantasy.

A painted red barn and swaying, golden fields and a willow tree with a swing beside a white farmhouse on the ridgeline and a little cliche collection of animals. A black and white cow and a billy goat and a pair of checkered chickens and an old, whiskered horse and a little, scrappy dog.

Keeping up appearances, old Vesemir said and made her go muck out the pen. She wished they'd keep up appearances with mucking too and when she said that, the old man's eyes bugged out his head and Uncle Eskel wheeze-laughed folded over smacking his knees.

But the others didn't come until later into fall when the harvest needed brought in. For many long, humid, dust mote days of summer, it was just Ciri and her new, mysterious guardian and the old man who trundled on his tractor with a pipe dangling from his lip, mowing grass and cussing when the tires dipped into a whistlepig hole.

Most days, Ciri was expected up early to feed and muck and clean, which she did with a healthy amount of complaining. Her little pink hands sloughed red with oozing blisters, and Geralt held them in his rough palms to apply salve, feeling like he wished he could give this girl something more, something grander, but this was what they had, this was what he knew.

But Ciri liked the idea of it, her hands going rough and calloused and big like his, her body going hard and lean. She wondered about his scars and his lined face and how strong he was when he lifted her up in his arms.

The lightning bugs came out over the fields each night, so numerous that she could cry over it, and Geralt taught her how not to be afraid when catching them cupped in her hands, kneeling before her with the flickering light held out like a solemn offering.

He prayed it would be enough, the small things he could give her, but Ciri had never known anything bigger. Her daddy sitting on the creaking edge of her bed in the attic to tell her a bedtime story. One with the true monsters and evils smoothed out into a fairytale.

Geralt told her many stories. Long ago, there were elves and giants and wizards and queens and all of them tangled up together in mysterious and elaborate ways. Ciri reminded him about the knights, and he said, ah yes, the knights, and told her about the quests and the riddles and the labyrinths and the dragons. Ciri liked the dragons best. And the swords that slayed them.

When she asked about his own monsters, he said only that there were things in this land older than all of them.

Sometimes the land itself resisted occupation.

And if she was ever on a dirt road along a field of corn or alfalfa at night, never stray in, no matter what beckoned. And if the screams of the coyotes took on a different pitch, don't go looking. And if the cicadas and the crickets went silent all at once and the woods gathered a hush, run home and run fast and don't glance behind your shoulder.

She brandished a pitchfork out in the animal pen, playing at killing beasts, and Geralt watched from the front porch of the farmhouse wishing he could make it all true for her. Heroes and legends and noble truths.

Instead, he whispered a prayer to the wind rattling through the corn fields and held tight as he could to her little, calloused hand.

It all went more or less the same in the end.

"And that's it!" says Ciri, waggling her fingers in a dramatic flourish. "Well, it didn't happen like that." She keeps her voice low and steady in the manner of storytelling, perched up on a fence rail, hands dangling between her legs. "Well, it all did happen. But not like that. Not in those places at that time."

The farm boy she is speaking to looks at her with big eyes, dumb as a newborn lamb. He doesn't know where this America is or half of the words she uses.

Ciri yawns. She doesn't think she'll tell that version again. Or else be choosier with her audience. The sky has started to go red with fading light, and the bats loose themselves from the eaves of the barn to take wing over the fields.

"Don't you have evening chores to do, boy?" she asks, and the boy startles as though awakening from a dream. "Those sheep won't feed themselves."

Later, when his mama cuffs him over the head for his tardiness, he will not be able to explain the reason for the dawdling. He remembers the dark silhouette of a stranger on the border of the fenceline and a peculiar sort of hollow sadness.

In all the darkest and strangest days of his life afterward, his thoughts will return sometimes to that shape in the cradle of dusk.

And one night when his own young, sleepless daughter asks to hear a story, he will close his eyes and draw a breath and tell her one.

#the witcher #yenralt #ciri #my fic

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dancingwiththefae · 1 year

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ohhhh, you knew i was gonna jump RIGHT on this therefore i shallllll.

pretty pretty please - geraskier, and fantasy man by the swell season. ( https://open.spotify.com/track/4Lcb4sEYyuHi3IPf7DAIg4?si=923ec5c4e26b48de )

omg this song is so beautiful and haunting thank you for introducing me to them <3

warnings/tags: no warnings! Just some mild hurt/comfort

wc: 786

--------------------------------------------

Jaskier wasn't in his room. He wasn't in the lab with Yennefer. In fact, no one had seen him for a while. Not long enough for them to panic. Except Geralt, of course. He traced his scent outside. Snow had fallen earlier. He hastily wrapped up and headed out. The air was still, the world silent in the dead of winter. Silent, save for Jaskier's soft humming. He was up on the ramparts. In a wave of panic, he raced up to find him. Jaskier was sitting wrapped up in his fur-lined cloak, looking out at the world with a pensive expression. His head turned as he heard Geralt approach, offering a small smile in greeting before turning back. The witcher settled himself next to him.

“Any reason you're out here?” he asked. Jaskier waved a gloved hand out to the valley and mountains beyond.

“The way the sun reflects on the snow. Makes the mountains look like they're made of diamonds.” He paused, sighed. “When the spring comes, the snow will melt, and the diamonds will disappear.”

“Enjoying the view?” Geralt said with the barest hint of teasing. There was something in the way Jaskier held himself, as if his cloak weighed much more on his shoulders than it did, that made him uneasy.

“Thinking,” the bard responded.

“About?” When Jaskier didn't respond he added “you can...talk to me.”

The bard stared at him a moment, searching for what he did not know.

“Fatherhood has changed you,” he smiled as he turned back to the view. “I was thinking about...us I suppose. I am grateful that you trust me enough to bring Ciri here. Even though she was miserable the whole time, I might add. But... we used to be so much more. Is our only bond the secrets we have to protect? Is that all we are? Do we part when spring comes?”

Geralt tried to find the words. Tried to say no, that is not all they were now, but deep inside he knew that wasn't the truth. Everything was different now. It couldn't go back to how it was and they couldn't pretend that was the case.

“You know,” Jaskier continued when Geralt had stayed silent too long, “I was always chasing after you. You always seemed two steps ahead of me. Would you ever chase after me, I wonder. Probably not.”

“I would,” Geralt interjected, “knowing you, you'd be running headlong into trouble. Someone has to stop you.”

The bard laughed and the witcher delighted in how it filled the silence of the winter afternoon.

“Our journeys are out of sync. Perhaps they will intersect again.”

“Ever the poet,” Geralt said fondly, “I need you here. With me. You remind me that.... there is more to humanity than the evil it can create.”

“Now who's the poet,” the bard teased. They lapsed into silence. Jaskier hesitantly slipped his hand into Geralt's. They watched the sun begin to set, the reflections in the snow shining brighter and then slowly fading away. Gloved hand in gloved hand they sat. Until Geralt spied his rosy cheeks and pink nose. Soft breaths like smoke in the air. The cold came in quick at night.

“Come on.” The witcher pulled him up by the hand. “Let's get you to bed before you freeze.”

Jaskier let himself be led without complaint. Even when he was clearly confused as to why he was being led away from his own room. Geralt paused at the door to his bedroom. He turned back to the bard and waited for him to say something. To reject him. But nothing came. Jaskier simply waited for him to open the door.

Once inside, Jaskier began to strip out of his winter gear. Geralt made his way over to the fireplace and arranged a few logs. He paused.

“Look away.”

Jaskier swallowed and dutifully turned away. Without another word, Geralt lit the fire with a blast of Igni.

The bard stripped down to his shirt and got into bed. Geralt hesitated before doing the same. He settled himself on the other side, leaving a gap between them. When Jaskier rolled over to face him, he did the same.

The first rays of light trickling in through the window woke him. They had somehow become much closer in the night. He watched the bard's eyes flicker open.

“Good morning,” Jaskier hummed, closing his eyes again and stretching. His voice still held the weight of sleep, his body warm as it curled up close to his. A hand came up to gently caress his cheek. Jaskier's eyes were so warm and welcoming, so full of fondness. Geralt relaxed into his touch. All was forgiven.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #geraskier #geraskier fanfiction #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #faye writes

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hanzajesthanza · 5 months

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really cool asks i received from @electricbluenb literal months ago, but never got around to publishing :P! but i still want to post this because this is quite interesting:

electricbluenb asked:

Hi! I'm here to report on a lecture I've listened to about Witcher!!!!

Exposition: the lecturer (she) is a philologist, specifically a researcher of fantasy as a transmedia phenomenon; the lecture is titled: 'Witcher Universe. Books, games, series', and from the short description in the announcements I imagined I wouldn't hear much new, or positive takes about TWN (derogatory), and I was interested to listen to it. It was only 90 minutes, so obviously it wasn't super deep in material.

The lecturer did show up in a t-shirt with a print of TW3 Geralt holding a kitten on it, and a games-style Wolf School medallion. For context this is a free library event in Moscow, held in Russian. I am writing this on the same night, so please excuse possible mistakes and I'll try to elaborate if needed.

Overall, I have to say that I haven't heard much that I can't find on your blog. That is only to say that the woman knows her stuff, and that she'd probably be delighted to hear about yours.

Summary of points:

Transmedia (media in different mediums which seeks to build upon each other, unlike adaptation, which only reframes source in a different medium, by her definition) often begins, like fanfiction, in places where source material is incomplete (like how many lotr fanfics focus on Silmarillion). It is crucial for both adaptations and transmedia to be made with love for source material, which TWN showrunners clearly lack.

Historical context and its empirical feel ("liquidity" of reality in the presence of great political and social change, end-of-the-world forefeeling) of the time when Sapkowski created earlier novellas is crucial to interpreting and adapting them. That feel of the setting, and also self-irony and subvertiveness of the text are what both The Hexer and TWN do not translate to the viewer.

Regarding games, she mostly calls them transmedia (not adaptation). She argues that writers of the games recreated that "liquid", end-of-the-world timespace better (not necessarily accurate to lore) than The Hexer or TWN, and more importantly excelled at culture-coding the setting as polish, making it attractive to other slav people as well.

She said with her whole chest that TWN production, and Lauren Hissrich specifically, is just not putting any fucking effort into looking at source material, slapping diversity on what they don't understand to already have themes of otherness and conflict (The Greater Evil is the only example I have in my written notes for books, but she also pointed at games' presenting Geralt as non-human and how it is involved in quests).

In that same vein, she said there's just no romantic relationship between Geralt and Yennefer in TWN, which in books is relying on Eros and Thanatos, and weirdly that drive, finding no exit, is instead can be seen when comparing Renfri fight and stryga fight (she put up screenshots side by side), Geralt only loving the monstrous, and intimacy being deadly (in stryga fight the 'disenchanting kiss' bite). In the games she pointed at the cinematic trailer for Blood and Wine (fight with Orianna / Lullaby of Woe), and went over how it's basically also Eros/Thanatos imagery.

Continuing on Yennefer, she said that it is just laughable to call the character TWN portrays 'Yennefer', because 'inner logic of the character says otherwise', because there's no Yen & Ciri mother-daughter relationship, and the character seems to be 'more like Ciri's either older or younger sister who is afraid of her'.

She touched upon game / series / books interconnectivity (two swords on Geralt's back in Season of Storms versus one in pentalogy, TWN changing Nilfgaardian armour for s3, CDPR adding TWN's Nilfgaardian armor as an option on iirc ps5 edition) and just that it's interesting to her as a researcher that there exist points of clear medium interactions that are expressions of interest and love for the creation, even if the creation is flawed.

She argued that an english translation (the one that she read, obviously there might be different ones) has less visible irony across both text and subtext, in part, possibly, due to censure. I kinda doubt her expertise on english lit as she does seem more focused on Russian lit and translations to Russian, but basically she argues it might be another ground where TWN is just out of depth.

In the Q&A portion I mentioned Redanian Intelligence's article about 'western audiences' and she completely agreed it is just an excuse for what is a skill issue on showrunner's part.

That's all for my report. Hope it leaves you feeling affirmed, knowing that somewhere there are scholars who agree, almost to the letter, completely. :)

electricbluenb asked:

Oops, missed some notes.

As a true researcher, she held a poll on books vs. TWN.

Of about ~25 people in the audience:

22 read the books, 22 liked the books

24 watched S1, 0 loved S1 (aside feelings for actors), 2 people were meh on S1

20 watched S2, again 0 for loving S2

7 watched S3, another 7 considered watching S3, and again 0 for loving S3.

She was prepared to talk more about Ciri, Falka, and Regis, but time was very short.

---

i was really elated to hear about this, the term transmedia is fascinating and i feel like this applies to the witcher phenomenon really well. the term "adaptation" doesn't suit the games, which take the books as a starting point. the topic of interconnectivity between the various mediums is also great, certainly true as every witcher media begins to reflect one another as they're created. one topic i'm interested here is where did geralt's facial scar originally come from, as there is some art of it which predates the creation of the games.

"the setting, and also self-irony and subvertiveness of the text" is definitely what i find missing in netflix as well. i believe the continent, at least in the pentalogy, is way more fleshed out than people think, and the setting really really begins to define the story during the saga, so much so that it becomes as important as the characters themselves. the irony and subversion the text uses are truly hallmarks of the witcher, as well as intertextuality with other fantasy works.

to this list, i would also add comedy :D though twn tries to be funny sometimes it seems to be in an entirely different context and different angle. i was thinking yesterday about how some of the comic characters present in the short stories: dandelion, torque, tellico, freixenet, really had their comedic presence entirely changed or removed from netflix's version. and i thought about the barbegazi and knocker from tower of the swallow, these guys are so funny and endearing, if strange and odd. i think something that netflix does which really, really clashes with the books, is that they treat every monster like a serious threat or at the very least dull them down. in the books, i'd wager that at least half of the 'monsters' present are actually used for comedic effect as well as dramatic effect. now, it's not separate, plenty of characters are both. but netflix seems to only focus on monsters as dangerous, whereas in the books they can actually be quite funny. i think this use of comedy presents a world that is "comfortable" being a fantasy world, that has really incorporated its fantasy elements in a realistic way, so that it's not just there for drama, but has integrated itself into every part of life.

i adore the comparison of geralt and yennefer's relationship with that of the fight with adda, vereena, or renfri. this is something i've been thinking about for a while. exactly, yennefer in the last wish is the antagonist of the story - a powerful, magical woman, literally, a witch. in this sense, yennefer is not unlike the other dangerous opponents geralt faces. in many myths and stories, the hero faces, challenges, defeats an evil witch, sorceress, female user of magic who aims to seduce, deceive the hero. this is the trope we're working with.

the kicker is that yennefer's character gets developed past this, as she begins to be intimately explored - even beyond geralt's lens - and within their context, we see their relationship transform from antagonistic to romantic to fates intertwined. but their chemistry and energy begins with that inherent match in energy, their yin and yang, light and dark, witch and witcher. that (literally) electric sense, that yennefer is never going to be 'defeated' by geralt, that she remains independent even while by his (and ciri's) side.

overall i really enjoyed this report, and respect this lecturer a lot! again, sorry i took so long to publish this as it's been a strange past few months, but better late than never :')

#ask #electricbluenb #the witcher books #the witcher games #the witcher netflix

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fandom-junk-drawer · 2 years

Text

The Witcher Headcanon - Trouble Bonus Scene - Part 4

The days marched by, and Yennefer grew more concerned. She could find nothing in her books or scrolls about what the curse on Jaskier needed in order to break it.

She divided her time between helping Geralt take care of Jaskier, and trying to figure out the curse. She finally had to admit that she needed a break, and maybe a little help.

It was almost time for the Witchers to go home for the winter, and maybe there was something in Vesemir's library that could help. So, she made a trip back to the market and soon they were on their way to Kaer Morhen.

They traveled at Witcher Speed. Which meant the only regular stops they made were for sleep, bathroom breaks (for Yen. Everyone else just did the equivalent of p*ssing out the window), or setting the world speed record for changing a diaper. They all agreed that it was still a little early, but they wanted to make sure they beat the winter snows.

A Watch Rota was established for when they made camp. The Witcher whose turn it was was had the job of keeping Jaskier out of trouble. Lambert's turn was riddled with exclamations of displeasure. It was as if he just couldn't get anything right. He never knew his brothers had so many f**ks to give.

F**k! Lambert, Don't let him play with that stick!

F**k, Lambert! He's too close to the fire!

F**k, Lambert! Get him away from the horses!

F**k! Lambert! He's putting bark in his mouth!

F**k! Lambert! Don't let him wander!

What the f**k, Lambert! Don't give him your dagger to play with! What the h*ll is wrong with you?

Lambert rolled his eyes and gumbled. "Oh, calm the f**k down! I'm standing right here! Let the poor little b**tard have some fun! I'm not going to let anything happen to him!"

Lambert wondered if the the only reason he wasn't dead was becasue he was holding said 'little b**tard'.

Geralt had suppressed a smile. Lambert was the uncle that would give you anything you wanted. He was the uncle that, when you got in trouble, would give death the middle finger and with zero f**ks, tell your mom to leave you alone.

They reached the foot of the mountain and paused to get ready. The air was cold and Jaskier was bundled up in a thickly padded red jacket with gold stitching that matched his heavy red wool trousers. Yennefer adjusted his little fur lined cap and made sure he still had both of his little boots on before they started up the mountain.

Yennefer had not told Vesemir exactly why she needed access to his library. The only thing she said was that she was researching a strange curse. It wasn't that she didn't trust Vesemir, it was just that she wanted to see the look on his face when he saw Jaskier.

She had been vague with Geralt as well. She didn't tell him that Vesemir didn't know that Jaskier had been cursed. He'd been teasing her about Jaskier calling her Ma, and she felt she was due a little retribution.

The look on the old Wolf's face when Geralt and Yennefer had walked into the Great Hall, holding a baby had been worth it. Vesemir had been rendered speechless mid greeting. He'd looked back and forth between Geralt and Yennefer, shocked and confused. Neither of them should have been able to, but there they were, with a pup.

"When did...how?" was all Vesemir could think of to say, right before Jaskier babbled and reached for him. Vesemir melted as he took the boy from Yennefer's arms. "He's beautiful, Wolf! What's his name?"

Geralt suddenly realized that Vesemir thought that Jaskier was their child. "It's Jaskier, Vesemir." he grumbled with an irritated look at Yennefer and his brothers, who were clearly in on Yennefer's prank judging by the grins. "He's been cursed..."

Vesemir paused, gazing at the toddler in his arms, smiling. "You should have brought him sooner! I could have helped you take care of...helped you look for a way to break the curse."

He waved vaguely in the direction of the library saying "There's surely something in the archives and lorebooks. But that can wait for a few days. All of you need to rest." Geralt saw right through the excuse. It had been several human lifetimes since there had been a pup in Kaer Morhen's halls, or in Vesemir's arms, for that matter.

Jaskier had claimed another victim.

"Come sit with your Grandpa Vesemir!" he rumbled happily as he whisked Jaskier away. His soul just about ascended when Jaskier chirped 'Pa!' and patted at his cheek with his tiny hand.

Vesemir spent most of the morning spoiling Jaskier. The toddler never touched the ground. Grandpa Vesemir carried him everywhere, and refused to let the other Wolves take a turn holding him.

He sat on Vesemir's lap while the old Wolf fed him little bits of soft meat and mashed up potatoes with his fingers.

Aiden arrived as they were eating, and his eyes immediately went to the baby, then to Geralt and Yennefer. "Congratu-!"

"It's Jaskier! He's been cursed!" Geralt and Yennefer shouted in unison before the Cat could finish.

"That's Songbird???" Aiden exclaimed, hurrying over to get a closer look. "Oh, sweet Melitele...he's so cute!"

"Who picked out your clothes?" he asked Jaskier, admiring the red wool trousers and white linen shirt with the red and gold flowers embroidered on the sleeves. "Did Yennefer pick those out? It looks like she did! She always did have good taste in clothes!"

Jaskier smiled and put a hand out towards Yennefer and said "Ma, Ma, Ma!" as if agreeing with Aiden. Yennefer winced, and Geralt 'hmm'ed uncomfortably. Aiden's pupils dilated in interest and he started grinning.

"We didn't... He just..." Geralt stammered, trying to explain the awkward situation while his brothers laughed their a**es off.

"Babies call you whatever is easiest to say." Aiden laughed. "I had a friend when I was a kid, who's Grandpa's name was William. They tried everything to get his baby brother to call him Grandpa Will, but he ended up being Wee-Wee. It stuck, and he was Grandpa Wee-Wee for the rest of his life."

"Who's this?" Aiden asked the toddler, pointing to Yennefer

"Ma!"

"Who's this?"

"Da!"

"Who's this?"

"Pa!"

Aiden went around the table, pointing at each Wolf in turn. Jaskier couldn't say anyone elses name yet, so he just babbled random sounds. Until Aiden pointed to Lambert and asked "Who's that?"

And Jaskier squealed and loudly procalimed "F**k!"

Eskel and Coen roared with laughter while Lambert shifted uncomfortably.

"That's what you get for constantly cussing in front of him!" Yennefer sniffed. "Now he thinks that's your name!"

"Uncle F**k!" Eskel howled while he pounded on the table and Coen laughed himself onto the floor.

"F**k!" Jaskier said, reaching his arms out to Lambert. Geralt snorted his ale out of his nose, and Eskel slid off the bench to join Coen on the floor.

"Alright," Yennefer said, as she scooped the toddler out of Vesemir's lap. "It's time for a nap, Julek."

Geralt stood as well, heading off first to get his room ready while Yennefer wiped Jaskier's face with a rag and told him to say bye to 'Grandpa' and his 'Uncles'. Jaskier did the little hand twisty thing before blowing kisses.

Every single one of the Witchers caught a kiss and held it to their heart before they could stop themselves. There was a moment of embarrassed silence and side-eyeing where they silently dared each other to say a word.

Jaskier slept cuddled up with Geralt and Yennefer. He slept peacefully, in the way that babies do, relaxed and without a care. Geralt and Yennefer slept like Tired Parents, passed out, with an air of desperation, open mouth snoring, limbs in whatever position they hit the mattress in.

Eskel and Lambert had gone to check on them after about an hour, incase Jaskier had woken up, and found them setting the gold standard for Ugly Sleeping. And it was ugly. There were arms and legs sprawled in awkward positions, disheveled hair, twisted clothing, oddly bent and twisted torsos, drool, gaping mouths and horredous snoring.

"Oh f**k-!"Lambert choked on a snuffling snort as he tried not to bray with laughter at the sleeping figures. Eskel quietly backed out of the room and ran like h*ll to get Coen and Aiden so they wouldn't miss out on the sight. Afterwards, they all piled into Coen's rooms so they could howl with laughter.

Geralt woke up when he felt Jaskier roll onto his back. "Ooooooh, big stretch!" he whispered with a groggy smile as the toddler stretched, little arms and legs quivering with the intensity.

Geralt carefully slipped out of bed, wincing at all the stiffness he'd aquired from how he'd been laying. He took Jaskier and quietly shuffled out, leaving Yennefer to sleep.

With Yennefer still sleeping, Geralt had figured he'd have a little while to enjoy not being hen-pecked. He quickly found out that Vesemir was almost as bad about it as Yennefer. He ended up just handing Jaskier to 'Grandpa' to avoid being harrassed to death.

They ate dinner in a nest of furs and cushions infront of the Great Hall's fireplace. Jaskier toddled around the furs, going from Witcher to Witcher for cuddles and to try to get his little hands on anything shiny on their persons. Eskel gently batted Jaskier's little hands away from his dagger with a soft, but firm 'No.'

The little Bard pouted and toddled unsteadily through the nest until he reached Vesemir. He looked up at him with sad blue eyes. Then he whimpered "Pa! Pa!" and babbled in an accussing tone while pointing at Eskel. Coen tipped over backwards laughing "He's tattling on you Eskel!"

Vesemir nodded gravely, saying "I see." as the toddler went on. "That's such a shame, pup!" Jaskier pouted and looked at Geralt and Yennefer. They shook their heads, and Geralt touched his index and middle fingers to his thumb.

(No.)

Jaskier's bottom lip stuck out even farther. He made one last attempt, trying to appeal to the one person who might be sympathetic to his plight. He let a few tears fall and he whimpered "F**k..." while looking directly at Lambert. The group burst into laughter, while Jaskier stood there, looking confused and mildly offended.

"He's calling you!" Coen laughed, slapping Lambert on the shoulder.

"Do something, Lambert!" Geralt said with a grin.

"Yeah, do something, Uncle F**k!" Eskel said as everyone broke into another round of laughter.

The prickly Witcher growled roughly, but his hands were gentle as he gathered the toddler into his arms. "Alright, alright, quit yer squallin'..." He let Jaskier hide his face in his neck, and to everyone's surprise, started rocking and humming quietly to him until he stopped sniffling. Then he pulled up Jaskier's little shirt and blew a raspberry on his belly. Jaskier shrieked and chortled.

"You big softie!"

"Sod off, Aiden!" Lambert grumbled, flipping him the bird over Jaskier's head. He paused, sniffing. Oh...sh*t... He looked down at Jaskier, who chuckled.

"You smell it, you change it." Geralt said placidly...

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doberbutts · 10 months

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hello! i know you've spoken in-depth about the witcher before, and i noticed the new season of the series is out. i never got any further than ep 3 of s2, i wasn't really in the mood at the time. i don't know anything about the games (aside from that my ex was rly into them) nor have i read the books! i've enjoyed reading your detailed posts about the pros and cons of all of them & i was wondering if you'd still recommend the show as is.

Oh, yes, if you are interested in where the story goes and you don't mind a dark fantasy, because things will only get darker from this point on. Part 1 of S3 isn't so bad with the dark storytelling as they haven't really stated outright what's going on yet but there are a lot of bad things to come to Ciri, Yennefer, and Geralt, and they are literally what the story is about so it's difficult to avoid those topics.

You do not need any games knowledge to watch the series because the games are equally non-canonical and also happen *after* the books, so there is no conflict of plot. Anyone saying otherwise has forgotten that Sapkowski never canonized the games and also that the show, being based on *only* the books, does not need to respect established game canon because the games aren't books canon.

With all adaptions I do think if you like the adaption then you should read the source material. Not just to have a better understanding of the adaption (and this particular adaption does change quite a few things around) but because anyone who enjoys an interpretation of an authors work should, in my opinion, support the author as well by reading from the source.

And because the books are genuinely pretty good, and if you approach things with an open mind you will find value in the three major adaptions we have stateside (I am not counting Hexer because I have not seen it).

I also think that in this age of bigotry and reactionaries, it is important to support those who are *trying* for equality and diversity. A *lot* of the outrage regarding this show is just racist, sexist, and now homophobic propaganda. Which is silly to me, because the author resolutely writes that these are bad things and that people should be less racist, sexist, and homophobic *in his works*. Not succumbing to the outrage and letting yourself judge it fairly is the way to go here, and if you end up still not liking it... well that's okay. It's not everyone's cup of tea. Just make sure that dislike isn't formulated from some outrage farm's poorly hidden agenda, because there's a lot of it out there.

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fangirleaconmigo · 1 year

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My problem with s2 arc for Yen is that all the things you beautifully described that makes Yen Yen were undone by her betrayal. They spend the first half of the season to show us that Yen is more than her magic, she didnt even need magic to win a powerful mage but then with two simple soldiers she's powerless and needs baba yaga and then at no point she can outsmart voleth meir? She didn't even had her in a spell or anything, it was simple: do that and get your power back and at no point Yen, after meeting Geralt and Ciri, couldn't fight it? That makes her weak, the opposite of what the first episodes showed us and we know that Yennefer is. Also the fact that she showed her good heart with everyone in s2 but the two people that were supposed to mean everything in the world for her, is imo the ultimate book Yen betrayal from the writers. Maybe they'll work on that in s3, maybe now i'm mad with the writers and I don't have the patience to see where this is going but I doubt they are talented enough to write a great original story so to deviate from the book to give us this makes me angry. And her sacrifice at the end didn't felt genuine for some reason (bad writing). And I still wonder why, show Yen - like every character in the show - was different from book Yen in s1 too but she was so well written, you could feel everything she felt but that was gone in s2. Lauren said that they didn't know what to do with Yen in s2 and that was shown. Hopefully now that in s3 they have a clearer idea of her story they'll do better. Sorry for the rant and I hope I didn't bother you a lot.

No, nonny, you didn't bother me at all.

Can you guys tell I'm catching up on asks?

This was in response to my post on how TWN S2 treated the women characters. It was mostly positive, with a few critical things.

Again, since there is critique in it (along with the praise, it is balanced) I'm going to tag twn critical.

PLEASE MUTE TWN CRITICAL IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE

Yes, even though I loved a lot of Yen's story, I agree that the Voleth Meir and Ciri decision didn't work.

It wasn't about them changing Yen from canon (tho that hurt), it was about their own story not working. For me, Yen's Voleth Meir decision, to bring Ciri to her and endanger Ciri (changing her mind too late), was in conflict with the first part of her development, and that is part of why it didn't work for me.

For example, they show you Yen upset and wanting her magic back because she sees a little girl being taken and she is powerless to help her.

So, the narrative is establishing that she does care and she does want to help, and she wants to protect little girls SO MUCH that she wants her magic back.

So. Then. If at least part of her motivation is her anguish that little girls are being harmed, how does that follow that she almost throws a little girl to Voleth Meir to get her power back? It doubles back on itself. It wants to have its cake and eat it too, so to speak.

It isn't IMPOSSIBLE to get there but it's thematically weak storytelling for me.

You know how some story telling and character development is thematically so cohesive and you completely understand why they do what they do to the point where it's almost tragic sometimes because you're like...that decision is bad, but I know where that character comes from and what their flaws are, so I know this is almost inevitable? You know how you get like a rush from storytelling that good?

That just wasn't it for me.

I'm with you on that one.

And I also agree that they have gone out of their way to develop Yen as someone who, when faced with an A) and B) choices, says "Actually, I'll take F) for Fuck you" and I love that, that is exactly who she is, but then her Voleth Meir decision didn't fit that either.

It just felt jammed in. And yeah, I don't think it's possible to undo and get the relationship we would want between them, at least not in a way that is satisfying and authentic.

But I will be watching, and we shall see. I want them to do my Yenny boo right ffs.

#asks #talking twn #twn critical

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seidenbros · 2 years

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Belated Honeymoon

Soooo, this is my first entry for the @witchersummercamp prompts (and a special thanks to @luteandsword who reminded me of this, because being down with covid, I completely forgot about this). It's the first time ever that I'm doing something for an event, so if there's anything wrong, anything needs improvement, just let me know 💚

Prompt: Cabin

Pairing: Geraskier | Geralt/Jaskier (established/married)

Rating: T

Words: 2183

Warnings: fluff, domestic fluff, maaaaybe a little angst if you squint, modern au

Summary: After Jaskier spent the day right after their wedding in the studio all the time Geralt whisks him away to a cabin by the lake, where he can finally take some time off from everything and everyone - and they can spend some time alone. And it seems that Geralt has a little surprise question for his husband as well.

also on AO3

______________________

The warm summer breeze tickled his nose as he stood at the edge of the lake. Jaskier twirled the silver ring around his finger. The newest addition to all the other rings, but still his favourite, because it meant something. After years of dancing around each other, of being friends and supporting each other, they'd finally managed to admit their feeling for each other. He'd seen Geralt get his heart broken, and the other way around. And along the way, Geralt had even become a Dad. Not that it had been in his plans at that time, but Ciri was the best thing that had ever happened to him – Jaskier had to agree.

Geralt had changed after Ciri had been born. He's gotten a lot calmer, hadn't taken everything for granted anymore – especially not Jaskier. After her mother had left Ciri in Geralt's care, he needed all the help he could get, and Jaskier had always been there. It had brought them even closer together, and after waking up in each other's arms, Ciri on top of Geralt's chest, they'd shared their first kiss. For hours they'd talked afterwards, thinking about the pros and cons of getting in a relationship, taking it further than just being friends, but they'd never regretted it.

Two months ago, they'd gotten married, and now, they were finally on their honeymoon in the middle of nowhere. Geralt's choice of course. Ciri was staying with Yennefer, and it was the first time they were spending a week apart from each other. At the end of the week, Ciri would join them, for some family time, but Geralt and Jaskier needed some time to themselves.

It was beautiful out here, no other people around, just the sounds of nature, a house and a lake all to themselves. Jaskier wasn't usually the quiet type, but after some exhausting weeks, that he'd spend mostly in the studio recording his new album, even he needed a break and some peace and quiet. Therefore, he was standing out here without headphones, enjoying the view.

Geralt had left in the early morning to go fishing. He'd woken Jaskier up with kisses to say goodbye to him, but before he'd left, he'd prepared breakfast for his husband, so Jaskier had immediately smiled as soon as he'd walked into the kitchen. There had even been a little note that said: “See you in a bit. Love Geralt” - he'd even drawn a little heart next to his name. And then people said that Jaskier was the cheesy one of them. If only they knew...

His eyes landed on the ring Geralt had given them at their wedding. They hadn't wanted matching wedding bands, but they choose one ring specifically for the other. While Jaskier had gotten Geralt a silver ring with the soundwaves of him singing “I'll love you for eternity”, Geralt had gotten him a simple silver ring with a dandelion engraved on the inside, his nickname for Jaskier. It was the sweetest, most personal thing Jaskier could think of. In addition, his wedding band was completely different from all the other colourful, flashy rings he wore, and he loved it all the more for that.

“Everything alright?”

Jaskier turned around to the low voice, that belonged to no other than Geralt. He'd been so lost in thought that he hadn't even heard him come back. Apparently, he'd already put away the fish he'd caught – Jaskier was sure he'd been successful, since the rod and everything else were gone as well – and was now ready to take a shower.

“Perfect. It's just so peaceful out here.”

“That's why I chose this place.” Geralt walked up to Jaskier, wrapped his arms around him and leaned in for a chaste kiss. “You need some social detoxing.”

“Oh look at you with your fancy words,” Jaskier said with a smirk, stealing another kiss. “But you're right. I haven't even looked at my phone all day. The last time was yesterday evening when we asked Yennefer about Ciri.”

“Good, I'm proud of you. You've been working non-stop ever since the wedding, so you need to not think about work and everything that had to do with it for these two weeks.”

“But-”

“No buts. You need to relax.”

“And you need a shower. You smell like fish!” A laugh followed Jaskier's words, but it turned into a squeal when Geralt picked him up and threw him in the lake. The look on Jaskier's face when he came up for air made Geralt laugh in turn

“I said YOU need a shower, not me!”

“Well, in that case...”

In one swift motion, Geralt stripped off his shirt and jumped after Jaskier into the water. The sun was still high in the sky and it was hot, the days still long, so that they could enjoy some time out here. Now, that they were both in the water, there was no rush to get inside.

Geralt pulled Jaskier back into his arms, brushed the wet hair from his face and smiled down at him.

“Looks like you'll need to take a shower with me then...”

“Do you really think I'd object to that?” Jaskier chuckled, wrapped his arms around Geralt's neck and pulled him in for another kiss, but this time not a chaste one, but one that lingered a little longer, that held the promise of more.

After spending some more time in the lake, they enjoyed their shower together. For dinner, they had fish of course, and Geralt was rather proud of what he'd caught. Hence, cooking was Geralt's task for the evening. Usually, they cooked together, but tonight, he'd sent Jaskier outside with a glass of wine. Most of the time, they were both busy, but the last couple of weeks, Geralt had stayed at home to take care of Ciri while Jaskier had hardly been home at all, so he definitely needed the rest.

Sitting outside on the deck, overlooking the lake in the evening sun calmed his soul, but it also inspired him, gave him some new song ideas. Not today, though, no, he wouldn't pull out his notepad and write something down. He had a couple more days to do that, but tonight was just for the two of them.

“Beautiful,” Geralt said when he places the plates on the table and sat down opposite Jaskier.

“Isn't it? I could sit here for hours and never get tired of it.”

“I wasn't talking about the lake,” Geralt said with a smile before he refilled Jaskier's glass.

“Oh...” Jaskier didn't manage anything more. His cheeks turned pink due to the compliment. Usually, he loved compliments, couldn't get enough of them, but with Geralt... it had always been different. It wasn't some superficial compliment to get what he wanted from Jaskier, he really meant what he said, and that made all the difference.

Over dinner, Geralt told him about his fishing trip, and Jaskier listened with a smile. It was wonderful to hear Geralt talk about something that he enjoyed. He wasn't a man of many words, but sometimes, he went all out, and Jaskier just let him talk. He didn't know a lot about fishing, but he loved listening to Geralt talk, no matter what he was talking about in the end.

After dinner, Geralt didn't let Jaskier help with the dishes, but instead sent him outside to enjoy the last rays of sunshine. At first, Jaskier had tried to protest, but there was no use. So he found himself out on the deck again, glass of wine on hand. Slowly, he walked to the edge, took off his shoes and sat down to let his feet dangle in the water. There was no noise except for the casual splash in the water from a fish or some other animal. A complete contrast to the city, where he was constantly surrounded by noises, not all of them good. The longer he sat there, the more he felt the tension leave his shoulders, and he finally relaxed. He'd already relaxed a little earlier when he'd been by himself, but by now, he was completely at ease and happy with where he was. No noise, no music, no nothing. Just Geralt and him.

Geralt walked slowly towards him and sat down next to him silently, not wanting to disturb this peaceful moment. Jaskier immediately reached for Geralt's hand and interlaced their fingers.

“This was a good idea,” Jaskier eventually broke the silence, a smile on his lips, as he kept looking over the water.

“Mhm... I'm glad you think so.” Geralt turned to press a kiss to Jaskier's temple. He took a deep breath, before he continued. “You know... I never thought I could feel like this, like I'd never seen the sky before...”

Jaskier quickly turned towards him, a look of surprise on his face.

“Are you really quoting Moulin Rouge at me?”

“It's your favourite movie, I thought you might like that.”

“You're full of surprises,” Jaskier said with a love, before he pulled Geralt close to kiss him. He'd pleaded with him so often to watch that movie together, until Geralt had finally given in. His reaction had been a simple hmm and Jaskier hadn't expected anything else from him. But that he was able to quote Jaskier's favourite song from the movie now, made all the butterflies in his stomach turn into a storm again.

“There's something I need to talk to you about, though.” Geralt eventually broke the kiss, but kept Jaskier close. “It's nothing bad. At least I hope so.” So much for not worrying Jaskier. Geralt had tried his best to get Jaskier in a good mood, and he'd succeeded, but he was still nervous about this now.

“Okay... Spit it out, I'm getting anxious!”

Geralt could see it in his face, like he was expecting Geralt to tell him that marrying hadn't been a good idea or that he'd cheated on Jaskier. The truth couldn't be further from that.

“Ciri asked me something and I told her I'd talk to you about it before she gets here.” Geralt took Jaskier's hand in his again, ran his fingers over the wedding band, which was the only ring he'd kept on his fingers after the shower. “She wants you to be her Dad as well. Not just in the way you already are, but legally. Her greatest wish is that you adopt her.”

“She... what?” Jaskier blinked once, twice, and kept staring at Geralt.

“She wants you to become her Dad.” Geralt repeated his words, thinking about if he could make it any clearer somehow, describe it in an easier way, but his words had been pretty clear.

Without a word, though, Jaskier got up and walked back into the cabin, leaving a stunned Geralt behind. He needed a moment, before he got up as well and ran after his husband.

“Jaskier?” Geralt called after him until he found him in the kitchen, his head stuck in the fridge. “Jaskier, talk to me! It's absolutely fine if you don't want to, I'll just need to find a way to tell Ciri then.” His own heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He hadn't wanted to ruin their whole trip with this, but it was something that was important to Ciri and to him as well.

“Jaskier...” He was getting really worried now, and curious about what Jaskier was looking for in the fridge. When Jaskier finally closed the door again and turned to Geralt, there were tears streaming down his face.

“I was just...” he mumbled, holding up the bottle of champagne they'd gotten in their way here.

“Dandelion...” Geralt still wasn't sure what this meant, but his gut was telling him that it was a good sign.

“I couldn't be happier,” Jaskier managed, putting the bottle aside to wipe away the tears. “I want that! I just didn't expect that at all.”

“Come here,” Geralt said with a smile, opening his arms, and Jaskier didn't waste a moment. He threw himself into the arms of his husband and held onto him. Geralt's hands caressed his back, simply held him there for a moment. “So these are tears of joy?”

“Of course they are! I love that kid with all my heart.”

“I know... and she loves you as well. That's why she wants this so badly. She absolutely adores you.”

Geralt's words managed to make Jaskier sob and shed even more tears. When they'd become a couple, Jaskier had never really expected them to get married, always thinking that something would go wrong along the line, but they'd managed. There had been bad times, but they hadn't abandoned each other and had instead managed these situations together, had become a family. Gods, he couldn't wait to tell Ciri his answer once she got here.

#WitcherSummerCamp #the witcher #geraskier #the witcher netflix #geralt x jaskier #witcher summer camp #geralt of rivia #jaskier #staffi writes #modern au #established geraskier #they're just too soft I swear

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amzngdevil · 2 years

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Would love “c'mere, lay with me” for geraskier!

Oh hi! Thanks for the ask, I hope you like it! ♡ Sorry for the late, I couldn’t wrote anything in the last few days :(

Jaskier woke up with the tremor. At first he thought that was an earthquake, but as his eyes adapted to the dark he saw Geralt sitted on the bed, sweat shinning on his temple.

“Hey.” The bard called in a sweet whisper, afraid of frightening the witcher even more. “The dreams again?”

“It wasn't a dream.” Geralt's yellow eyes searched for Jaskier just to be sure that what he has seen was just a hallucination and his real life were right there. “It was a fucking nightmare. One of the worst I've ever had.”

It taken some time to Geralt trust Jaskier enough to share this particular piece of his mind. Every time that he woken in the middle of the night pushing whatever crossed at him at the dreamland, Jaskier only observed. His big gaze were always sweet and a little bit worried, but thanks to Melitele the bard had never let his tongue slips from his mouth to ask anything for months. For years. Geralt always expeced t that someday his companion will talk about it, but Jaskier never did.

Not until the day that everything has changed.

“C'mere. Lay with me.”

Jaskier's voice has bring Geralt back to the present.

For a few seconds, Jaskier feared that he has been inconvenient and made Geralt uncomfortable, but soon the witcher stand up and reached his bed with cautious steps.

It was in a night like that, four years ago, that Geralt couldn't take anymore. He searched for Jaskier's hand - they were sharing the same bed because that inn was very humble - and woke him.

"Hm... What's up, Geralt?" the bard's voice was even more beautiful touched by sleep. He sat immediatly when saw the witcher's face covered by tears. "By Melitele! What happened, dear heart?"

So Geralt told him anything about the nightmares. About the visions of Visenna going away, dissapearing on a grey fog. About Yennefer covered in blood, holdig a dead baby with white hair. About the new ones with Ciri looking at him with disgusting, sputting in his face for transforming her - a princess - in an aberration.

Geralt told the only nightmare he had with Jaskier, singing at a horrendous court of every single monster he had ever killed.

Just as that night, Jaskier now was holding him like he conteined the whole world, what was true for the bard's soul. At that night, he asked since when the nightmares worried Geralt, who told that it was since he gone to Kaer Morhen. Now, he asked to Geralt think of every travel they've made togheter, the laughs they've shared, and the love words Jaskier had ever whispered in the witcher's ear.

Just as that night, Geralt's breathing became softer, and in a few minutes he was sleeping again, with Jaskier watching him and pushing away anything that wanted to cause pain to his lover, even if these kind of things lived only in Geralt's head.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geraskier #amzngdevil writing #amzngdevil #writing #writeblr

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catierambles · 1 year

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There was no fanfare when the sorceress came to Kaer Morhen. People noticed, yes, but no one seemed to care as they all seemed to already know her.

'A friend of Geralt's' someone had told her when she had asked and she quickly made her acquaintance. Yennefer was her name and she was darkly beautiful with silky black hair and vibrant violet eyes. The sorceress had dismissed her just as quickly as she introduced herself, but that was fine with her. Then, it seemed someone had told her that she, this healer who had been traveling with Geralt, was also his lover. That had gotten the sorceress's attention and she suddenly found herself being scrutinized on almost everything she did.

"You're using those herbs? Interesting."

"Fascinating spell, if a bit basic."

"Your clothing is a bit...utilitarian, don't you think?"

It finally got to the point where she told Yennefer that if she wasn't going to help in the infirmary, that she could leave as she was only in her way. That had gotten a surprised blink from the woman and Yennefer left without a word. Geralt had come into the infirmary not long after and given her a silent kiss on the temple, his hand wrapping around her hip.

Geralt avoided Yennefer and she was curious as to their history, but she also didn't want to pry. It was his business, if he wanted to tell her he would. She didn't have to wait long.

"We were lovers."

"Ah."

"I cared about her and she betrayed me."

"I'm sorry."

"It's the past, and I'm more than happy with the present."

Geralt walked down the hall of the keep, on the way to the infirmary to see his healer when he stopped at the sound of his name. His name in an all too familiar voice. With a scowl, he turned to her, Yennefer walking quickly towards him, determination set on her face that he once adored.

"You've been avoiding me." Yennefer said.

"And yet you haven't taken the hint." Geralt said, "You shouldn't be here, Yen."

"Why shouldn't I? The Witchers have always been receptive to my teachings."

"I'll put it plainly, then. I don't want you here, Yennefer."

"What have I done to deserve such venom?"

"Your memory isn't that bad." Geralt said and turned to walk away but she stopped him with a hand around his bicep and he looked down at it quickly before turning his eyes to its owner.

"Wasn't I good to you? Weren't we good together? Now you're fucking some weak little--"

"Stop." Geralt said, "You don't know her. There are many different kinds of strengths, Yennefer. Her valuing and preserving life is not a weakness, and your disregard for it is not a strength. As for how you were with me..." He stopped with a growl, "I told you, I told you I wasn't comfortable shifting around you. Not because I thought I would hurt you, but because I didn't feel like being studied like some experiment. What did you do? You ripped it from me. You forced me to change with your magic so you could see it because you were so fucking curious. I was in excruciating pain, because of you, and you didn't care."

"Geralt..."

"She accepts my Wolf for what it is and loves me for it regardless." Geralt said, "You only ever saw it as what it could do for you. Leave." Ripping his arm from her grasp, he walked away, heading instead to the training courtyard, needing to work out some aggression. He could feel her following behind him, but he paid her no mind, having said what he needed to. Entering the courtyard, he saw his healer there, tending to another Witcher who had seemed to have an accident, blood trailing down his face and his arm at an odd angle at the shoulder. He was about to go to her when he felt the muttered word, pain ripping through his body, making him fall to his knees in the snow. The bones in his hands twisted and popped, his muscles squirming under his skin as he fought the change Yennefer was forcing on him. It was ultimately futile, and his Wolf ripped from his skin violently, his mind filled with rage and hunger.

"Geralt!" He heard his healer yell, but the other Witchers kept her back, drawing swords on him.

"Stay back, Miss!" One yelled, "We can't ensure your safety when he's like this!" She pushed through them, batting away their reaching hands, and went to him. He couldn't see, he couldn't focus, his mind a violent storm, but the first touch of her hands on his head brought everything back with perfect clarity.

"Easy." She whispered, "Easy now. You're fine. You're safe." Her hands ran over his ears, down his cheeks, stroking his muzzle and his eyes closed as he sat down heavily. She held his head in her arms, running her palms over his flank and back, smoothing down the snow-white fur and he set his head on her shoulder, inhaling the scent of her hair. Her lips pressed against the side of his head and he sighed. "Are you okay now?" He huffed into her hair and she pulled away, holding his head in her hands and looking into his golden eyes before pressing a kiss to his nose. She looked to the side, her shoulders tightening as she saw Yennefer and she released him. "What the fuck do you think you're doing? How dare you force him to change."

"I--"

"I don't care. Get. Out. Leave Kaer Morhen. Now. And don't you ever try to contact him again." His healer ground out and Geralt stood, turning on Yennefer with a growl, his top lip curling back away from wicked teeth. Yennefer didn't say anything, leaving the courtyard quickly and his healer turned back to him. "Come. Let's get you somewhere private so you can change back. I don't think you want the others to see you as bare as your nameday." He bumped his head into her shoulder making her jerk back a little and she smiled, pressing another kiss to his muzzle before they left the courtyard, her hand on his flank.

#henry cavill #geralt of rivia #my writing

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thenightling · 11 months

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My favorite "perfectly reasonable" reactions to finding out Jaskier in the Netflix series version of The Witcher is now canonically bisexual

I am going to quote some of the responses to the revelation that Jaskier is bisexual and give a rebuttal to some of them.

____________________________________

The most common unhappy response: "He's only attracted to women in the books! He's straight in the books!" A possible rebuttal. = You can be a womanizer and flirt who sleeps around with a lot of women and still be bisexual. Just because it's all you've seen doesn't mean it's all there there is.

______________________________________ "Another change from the books. This was probably the last straw that made Henry Cavill leave!"

This one is particularly annoying because it requires making Henry Cavill a thinly-disguised-homophobe. No. Henry Cavill did NOT leave because Jaskier was revealed as biseuxal. Jaskier's ballad about Geralt mentioning his "stupid hair" and "what for do you yearn?" existed in season 2. And Jaskier talking about applying chamomile to Geralt's "lovely bottom" was in season 1.

There is no official statement anywhere stating that Henry Cavill left because of deviations from the source material. Yes, Henry Cavill IS a fan of the video games and novels but there's no official explanation as to why he left. In fact the rumor that he left because they strayed from the books all originate from gossipy Youtube videos with no more substance than old supermarket tabloids.

There are countless other plausible reasons for Henry Cavill leaving The Witcher such as: 1. He wasn't happy with his Netflix contract. Netflix contracts are very restrictive and strict. 2. He thought he could return to playing Superman, unaware of the shakeup at DC / Warner Brothers that wound oust him from the role. 3. Henry Cavill has obsessions that become all-consuming he became fixated on the Warhammer franchise. 4. Henry Cavill might have wanted more pay.

That's just four of the many reasons that could be behind his leaving The Witcher.

Seriously, the moment people start claiming that Henry Cavill left BECAUSE Jaskier is bisexual I have to point out a few things. 1. There were far bigger deviations from the books in Season 2, including the creation of a brand new villain. A change to the ending of the Beauty and The Beast-esque story and how Geralt reacts to the revelation about why his friend was cursed. The changing of a chracter's personality and having him die when he lived in the books. And also having Yennefer tempted to sacrifice Ciri. If you think these things are minor changes but he'd quit over Jaskier being bisexual... Well, that says a lot about you.

2. Henry Cavill was still in the show and involved in the show when they decided to confirm Jaskier is bisexual. Henry Cavill is IN this season that shows Jaskier with Radovid. This was filmed before he left. Before. 3. Jaskier's ballad about Geralt mentioning his "stupid hair" and "what for do you yearn?" existed in season 2. And Jaskier talking about applying chamomile to Geralt's "lovely bottom" was in season 1. 4. Henry Cavill was in the movie based on Neil Gaiman's Stardust novel. I suggest you google the character Captain Shakespeare, who does not exist in the novel Stardust. Just because YOU can't handle the idea of your favorite manly man having a non-straight best friend doesn't mean Henry Cavill agrees with you. Henry Cavill is not your magical shield for being a homophobe.

________________________________________ "Only Andrzej Sapkowski can make him bisexual. He's straight in the books." Yes, so we've been told many times. But Andrzej said he doesn't mind the change. You don't need to keep reminding us that Neflix was the first place to officially have Jaskier as bisexual. Your own insecurity is showing in that you have to remind us that the version you are obsessed with is straight. We're strictly discussing the canon of the Netflix show. _________________________________________________ "He's not Gay!!!! He's attracted to women!" Yes, he is attracted to women. And men. And possibly a pretty androgynous elf. The character was confirmed as bisexual, not gay. _____________________________________________

"Nice headcanon bro." Except it's not a headcanon. This was confirmed by Netflix, Joey Batey (Jaskier's actor), the showrunner, and show writer. You might like it but within the show version this IS canon. Jaskier and Radovid (now played by thirty-eight-year-old Hugh Skinner. It may never have been said in the books (We know! We know!) but it is a thing in Netflix.

We're strictly discussing the canon of the Netflix show.

https://www.slashfilm.com/1309204/the-witcher-joey-batey-confirms-jaskiers-romance-season-3/

___________________________

"They turned Jaskier into a ped0!" Rebuttal:

Oh, they did not! This is not the Radovid of the novels. He's not a teenage boy. He's a thirty-eight-year-old man. Yes, *Gasp* another deviation from the books. Speaking as someone who just had to adjust to Interview with The Vampire's Claudia being portrayed as fourteen-years-old and by a nineteen-year-old actress... Grow up.

___________________________ "When you try to be a smart ass but the show shuts your dumb ass up. Try harder, Twink." Rebuttal: Umm... first, I don't think you know what a Twink is. It's not just a new replacement for the f slur. Also the show didn't shut me up. It's the show that confirmed the character is biseuxal. _____________________________ "Why is it always short haired, over-weight, ugly, middle aged, women who want this? ALWAYS!" I have the short hair but otherwise I don't think that really fits." ____________________________________ "I casually scrolled through TEN YEARS of your profile pictures to see what kind of person I was dealing with." Umm... What? Because I posted about Netflix confirming Jaskier is bisexual in the show and it wasn't negative?! Okay... ______________________ "They didn't even try to follow the books. For starters his name is Dandelion! DANDELION!" I got this particular one twice and I responded with "Actually, in the original Polish his name is Jaskier, which directly translates to buttercup. Netflix is using his untranslated Polish name. The novels were originally written in Polish." And for some reason that earned the response of "Oh! You're OLD!" I didn't realize there was an age restriction on liking a character who is meant to be in his forties but okay... (I'm forty-one and unashamed). ___________________________________

"Why is it always the weakling who can't even fight that they make queer?" Rebuttal: Umm... That's not true. John Constantine, King Shark, Deadpool... None of those characters are straight and they kick ass.

Also Jaskier has a persona now of The Sandpiper where he helps the oppressed and outcast, and smuggles people to safety. When I compared him to The Scarlet Pimpernel this person got very offended because the Scarlet Pimpernel protected French nobles and all the French nobles deserved to die. I tried to remind him that in the novel the Scarlet Pimpernel rescued children. I haven't bothered to see their reply after that yet. I have a feeling I'm going to end up having to block someone.

________________________________ "I am tired of people saying Jaskier and Geralt are a couple and husbands!"

Rebuttal:

Umm... Sir, this is a Wendy's.

That particular comment was on a Facebook thread that had NO ONE saying any of those things. It was just a conversation about Jaskier and Radovid. ________________________________________ "Another character RUINED by Netflix." If you think a character is ruined because a depiction of him isn't straight, that's on you. _________________________________ "The whole point of Dandelion is he looks and acts gay but he's not!" I'm pretty sure that wasn't the point but okay...

________________________________ "They made Jaskier bi for the normies." Yet again I find myself thinking: "That word doesn't mean what you think it means." Long ago, before the MCU, nerdom wasn't trendy or fashionable. It was specifically the refuge for outcasts and outsiders.

Fast forward to 2023 when nerdom has been relatively mainstream for the last decade or so. And now we have fans of The Witcher angry that "normies" have made Jaskier bisexual in The Witcher Netflix series.

Okay but... Despite the presence of general more acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community, being bisexual or, as Jaskier's actor cals it, sapiosexual (attraction to intellect before gender) is still not considered normal.

People who identify as LGBTQ+ are still on the fringes of society. The very outsiders that nerd culture embraced and protected.

I have news for you, angry fan boys who are upset that the bard has been confirmed bisexual... you ARE the normies. When you start gatekeeping outcasts and outsiders (minorities) and whine about things being "Woke" because they allow in women, black people, or get upset and have a tantrum when they reveal a character might not be entirely straight... that's not the behavior of someone on the fringe. That's not original nerdom. I'm forty-one. I was a teen in the 90s and early 2000s. I've seen genuine nerdom. I was and am a Goth. We welcome and embrace those on the fringe, we don't shut them out because we don't want to think of our masculine manly man being friends with a non-straight medieval version of Freddie Mercury.

#The Witcher #Witcher #Jaskier #Buttercup #Dandelion

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