#the witcher fandom loves baths apparently

[restless-witch]

nothing in the world is mine, but my love, mine

hey hey I did a one-shot for once, I've posted it on Ao3 here but I know some of y'all like to read fic on tumblr so it's below the cut

Comments and likes always appreciated <3

He clocks the bard as either noble or a romantic the moment he sees the gloves on his hands. They're subtle, as far as the custom goes, a dark olive colored kidskin with a simple flower button wrapped around his wrist and covering only his thumb. The Witcher always wears gloves of a kind, Jaskier determines after a few weeks on the path together, though out of utility. a quick soulmates AU where soulmates have matching marks on the sides of their hands // title shamelessly stolen from Mitski's "My Love Mine All Mine"

Rated: T for swearing

Fandom: The WItcher TV

Pairing: Geraskier (Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier), background Yennralt (Yennefer of Vengerber/Geralt of Rivia)

Language: English

He clocks the bard as either noble or a romantic the moment he sees the gloves on his hands. They're subtle, as far as the custom goes, a dark olive colored kidskin with a simple flower button wrapped around his wrist and covering only his thumb. 

It's not satisfying when the bards confirms both to be true on their way to investigate the devil but when they're being kicked by Toruviel, he thinks that if the bard was a full gloved wearing hack then they'd both be dead.

Which also isn't satisfying.

.

The Witcher always wears gloves of a kind, Jaskier determines after a few weeks on the Path together, though out of utility.

Apparently the most dressed down the witcher ever gets is a pair of fingerless gloves worn even to sleep. Something about improving his grip and tendon injuries- Geralt tenses up when he can sense Jaskier wants to ask if witchers even have marks. Jaskier can feel how fragile their friendship is. He doesn't press the issue.

He hopes that puts a mark in his favor.

.

By the end of the season, Geralt determines the bard has no less than seven pairs of gloves- yet only two of them are permitted to actually get dirtied. Two suede pairs to match the colors of his "lover's eyes" (unoriginally brown and blue), three pairs for wearing in town, and a scant two pairs for all his bathing, cooking, and laundry.

It's utterly ridiculous.

Before they part at Ban Glan for the winter, he tells the bard to get more sensible gloves before spring on the Path.

He's at Ard Carraig before he realizes he planned for the bard to join him again.

.

When he returns to Oxenfurt, the two pairs of gloves he has for washing are nearly worn to shreds- he throws them down on the table at the Wishful Warbler with a grin when Shani asks about his travels. He's going on real adventures with his-maybe-friend-Geralt and getting dirty and everything. He spends the winter as a research assistant to Professor Berlyn and learning to make stacks of washing gloves.

His friends, who largely only own a pair or two or have entirely dispensed with the custom, are overrun with gloves of varying quality. Priscilla generously accepts a stack whose thumbs must all be split open to accommodate even her dainty digit.

He manages to barter for a pair of amber saffron dyed kidskin gloves- painstakingly transcribing Metz's treatises on celestial calendars small enough for Valdo Marx to use them as crib notes.

It's worth it.

It's a true lark to set them along with his brown and blue gloves and he whistles when they meet up in the spring and he waggles them in Geralt's face and thinks Geralt is about to strangle him- before the ludacris stack of washing gloves topples out of his bag onto the witcher's lap and he can't help but bark a laugh into Jaskier's delighted face.

.

He knows the bard is, at least, serious about walking the Path when he drops the stack of gloves on Geralt's lap. It's a bit of a child's attempt at adulthood, he admits to himself because he knows it would crush the bard to know twenty years of life does not make a man.

Still, it dampens his concerns of noble nonsense a bit to see where the calluses from needlework have made his fingertips even more knobby alongside the ones from his lute. For all the work Jaskier puts into his hands- carefully filing down his calluses and nails when they crack and rubbing ointments in before he beds down- Geralt can see it's a dedication to practicality and not vanity.

The bard is unconcerned by the healing scars where broken strings have cut into the flesh or the uneven tan marks across the backs of his hands where the different gloves have sat.

.

Jaskier wonders, just a teensy bit, if Geralt's glove wearing excuse isn't a little... weak.

Always needing his full grip strength?

It's a lighthearted solstice evening where he's helping Geralt in the bath when the witcher turns his head to the side, immediately stands up and storms over to the next room (nearly cock out and everything if Jaskier hadn't thought to throw the bath sheet at him) and throws an unwanted suitor off the serving girl.

There's suds dripping out of Geralt's hair all over the floor that he knows he'll wipe up later with the very gloves he's wearing now and Jaskier thinks he is maybe falling in love, for real this time.

.

A handful of times, he catches the bard cooing over marks in taverns. He wonders if it's a bit- some flirtation over how a lass or lad with such lovely signs could possibly take up with a scoundrel like him. 

It's not the most rakish bit he could suspect of the bard- though he notices the bard never takes off his gloves in return. He wears them even in the cities and hamlets where the custom is less common or replaced with simple patches of dyed skin.

It makes him seem damn right virginal to keep them on all the time. 

Perhaps the bard's mark is something obscene- it's not unheard of. If that were true though, he suspects the bard would leverage it into some pickup line about his prowess in bed. 

Perhaps the bard has no marks- a person blessedly free of obligation or destiny. 

He thinks it would be a kinder fate for Jaskier to be free of those kinds of concerns.

.

Jaskier knows his fastidiousness with wearing gloves is a little unusual for the current fashion but he commits to the bit. 

He thinks it's more romantic to have them revealed and thinks his are especially gorgeous; a simple sun on his right hand and a moon on his left, a small comet arcing over each and a few lines he thinks are wind or perhaps clouds. He's seen more ornate or filigreed marks- even the occasional mark with a splash of color- but his marks are so curiously endearing. 

When he links his bare hands together he sees a miniature of the universe and hopes that one day, he may hold his soulmate's marks against his own and feel the world between their hands.

He'll admit he's kept the privilege of the reveal to himself; but he'll be a little selfish if it means he can know to watch their delight when he reveals a world in his hands- a world to share.

He's not sure where his soulmate will fit in this life he's made in Oxenfurt and on the Path, but he never could have predicted the love that's already sprung up in his life already.

.

It's a very late night, or a very very early morning, when Geralt asks Yennefer about her marks- the marks erased when she became a mage.

"Never had one," she says, teasingly tracing the edge of his gloves, "I never needed fate to find love."

In the dark, between a sigh and a moan, his gloves are cast away.

When the sun has properly risen and midday creeps closer, she holds hands between her own.

"Rather provincial, aren't they?" She brings the tender pale flesh of his palm to her mouth and bites playfully, "I'd expect nothing less of a Rivian."

"Not quite a Rivian," he says and gently wriggles his fingers against her jaw, smiling as she can't help laugh and let the marks out of her teeth, "are they to your liking?"

Her answer comes as a carafe of apple juice.

.

It's a hard day: starting with Geralt stumbling through a portal smelling of lilac and gooseberries and ending with Jaskier dragging a nearly-drowned Geralt out of a waterhag's shack.

Two baths were called- a rare luxury in a rickety town- for Jaskier knew a shared bath would end up with at least one of them more disgusting at the end. Geralt is, Melitele be praised, uninjured besides a black eye that blooms stark against the lingering potion-pale pallor he'd had earlier.

The two strip and Jaskier climbs into his bath: Geralt casts a look at the door and cocks his head and throws his pus-soaked gloves straight into the chamberpot.

They soak, side by side,  and chatter tiredly and Jaskier thinks nothing of it when Geralt offers to perk up his water and he sees the moon and comet and dappled lines on Geralt's right hand as he casts Igni into the bath.

The smell of lilac and gooseberries and fucking are starting to sweat out of Geralt's hair and the memories of the wedding feast cut through him, unbidden, and Jaskier should have won another master's degree in performance for the way he blames the jump in his heart on the scalding water.

The curling misery he later blames on the thought of ridding the swamp stench from his boots.

.

Jaskier learns to knit gloves sometime around when Geralt forces himself to admit the bard is past boyhood. It's a rather domestic skill for Jaskier to learn in adulthood, though he claims they're easier to make and repair on the Path: which isn't a lie exactly and the bard does earn them a few coins fiddling with the needles in town and selling the gloves.

The knitted gloves seem to be his preference now- less prone to tearing as they wear and able to go longer without laundering. It's the threads of anxiety beneath it that give Geralt pause, he's been presuming Jaskier was unmarked entirely and wore the gloves for attention, but the longer he guards the little span of flesh the more Geralt thinks a tragedy must lie beneath the scraps of fabric.

Perhaps the person he shared his marks with had rejected him- though Geralt thought that unlikely given how firmly Jaskier had attached himself to Geralt's side despite him trying to outrun the bard for a year. Whoever shared his marks didn't stand a chance against Jaskier's persistence. Against his smile.

Perhaps the person he shared his marks with was already dead. Geralt didn't believe in the machinations of destiny or soulmarks, but that too twisted at him. Jaskier was a scoundrel, yes, but didn't deserve that so early in life. At the very least, it would explain why the bard wasn't concerned to muck with his fate by sharing his time with a witcher.

At the very least, he counts their time together as a blessing now, even if it's stolen from another.

.

Jaskier thinks it's finally time to come clean about his marks- their marks really. Not all marks are about just two people, he knows that, and Yennefer isn't the worst person to share a life with. 

Honestly, he already does- Geralt's adverse to destiny but Yennefer would be sensible working out some kind of custody schedule if they didn't want to invite him in. He shares his life with Geralt, which is more than many soulmates get. He's not even sure he wants more of their lives shared, but the longer he keeps the marks hidden- the more the omission feels like a lie. 

The more he knows he's lying to Geralt.

He figures it's an even shot Geralt that he'll never see him again or he'll be invited to winter at the Kaer.

It turns out he didn't even need the marks to drive Geralt away, being himself was enough. 

"See you around Geralt."

.

A week after the dust settles and the Deathless Mother has been banished from their plane, Geralt notices Jaskier's gloves stretch from wrist to fingertip and when Jaskier is pulled into what is rapidly becoming Yennefer's lab, he can hear a sympathetic pained groan from Yennefer as Jaskier's fingers are rebroken.

.

Geralt knocked against the open door of Jaskier's room: Jaskier kicked another log into the fire-

Geralt should have thought of that.

"Come in," Jaskier said and settled back into the chair before his diary. Geralt saw a page with very few words and many drops of ink smeared across it.

Geralt took the poker and rearranged the wood of the fire to burn more evenly, "Yenn says you haven't been caring for your burns," he coaxed the fire into a more even burn and pressed it further back into the hearth.

There was a long silence, "I can't open the jar," Jaskier admitted.

"You know anyone here would help you, Jask-" he dragged a hand through his hair, had he really fucked it up that badly?

Jaskier's silence said what it needed to.

"I'm sorry I didn't make that clear, Jaskier," he said and saw Jaskier's gaze drop lower, to the page in front of him, "may I help you now?"

"I would like it if you opened the jar," Jaskier said, "I don't want to trouble you any further. And thank you for the fire-"

"It's not trouble, I should-" Geralt huffed a sigh, "I should have thought of it sooner. Thought of you sooner- please, let me help you." 

Geralt could have heard a pin drop on the opposite side of Kaer Morhen as he waited for Jaskier to say something- anything.

He opened the jar of ointment and held on to it, even when Jaskier put a trembling hand out to grasp it, waiting for Jaskier to permit him to tend to the burns. Jaskier gave him a worn look.

Jaskier carefully took his gloves off- his fingers still wracked with the persistent tremors that made the single button at the wrists take an achingly long time to unfasten.

"The draughts help," Jaskier said softly, "but they will take time to subside."

They do not speak of the lute calluses that have started to thin and peel off entirely.

The gloves came off Jaskier's hand- revealing two palms and thumbs soiled by burns. There, amongst the gnarled scars, laid the burst remains of a sun and a moon.

Metz's treatise on the formation of the celestial spheres says the bursting of a sun creates a black hole: swallowing whole planets into its gravitational pull.

Geralt thought, perhaps, he should have considered his own marks when he wondered of Jaskier's for how often their hands touched.

"Don't-" Jaskier started, he took a deep breath and looked at the marks and not at Geralt, "please just the ointment, Geralt," he held out a hand again to take the pot from Geralt.

Geralt took the little pot of ointment, preciously carried in his saddlebags from Cidaris to Gulet to Kaer Morhen, and tugged off his own gloves as well. He carefully scooped out some of the ointment, the smell of dusk campion faint and familiar, and he warmed it between his palms.

He gently dragged his palms over Jaskier's before nimbly working the oil and medicine into his skin, taking care to rub into the creases between his fingers and the bumps of his remaining cuticles. 

Yennefer says the draughts will help the nerves return and the ointment will smooth the burns.

Geralt was careful to be methodical and detached as he covered the marks with beeswax and the scent of campion. He cannot help but imagine the pain that forced Jaskier's sun and moon to bubble and split so wide; the layered burns that distort the comets into slashes of lightning.

He cannot help but wonder why Jaskier didn't leave him to rot.

He cannot help but wonder why soul marks are counted as a blessing when his sun and moon remain clear and smooth while Jaskier's have ruptured into glowing black holes. He must not be an expert, there must be a gap in his knowledge, for he'd once counted Jaskier's dismissal as a blessing.

"Easy there, Geralt," Jaskier said kindly, "there's no reason for all that."

Of course Jaskier could interpret the bite of Geralt's lip and the furrowing of his brow.

Geralt held Jaskier's hands between his own, their suns and moons nearly meeting where the burns didn't warp them, "I'd given up on seeing this," Jaskier said fondly, "our own little world in our hands." He traced Geralt's comet down to the bowl of the moon, "Thank you Geralt, you did a very good job."

"I'm sorry," Geralt managed, "I didn't know."

"I didn't really want you to, would you have received it well?" Jaskier said pointedly, then his voice softened, "it was bad enough I wormed my way beside you- this- Geralt,” he gently squeezed their hands, “This is more than I dreamed of.”

"You should want more," Geralt said, "You should ask for more. I'm sorry-"

"I've said the same of you," Jaskier laughed softly, a rare sound of late, "I've said the same of you many times. Perhaps we can work on this together."

#actual fic nothing in the world is mine but my love mine #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #the witch writes

[demigoddessqueens]

Main Masterlist (as of 07/20/2022)

Per an anon ask, I have best compiled all of the inbox request and or prompts I have received from over a while. Hence all the updated hyper links and lists of fandoms down below. I will also post this on my main pinned post as well.

Edit (7/20/2022): so apparently there’s a link limit, so I’ll make a second composite masterlist to add on some remaining ones from my blog. As of now, here’s what is compiled so far. 💕

Ao3

Ao3 link above👆is a Hodgepodge of other fics, drabbles, fan weeks, fandoms and series/WIP’s

Kinktober 2022

LINK TBA

Final Fantasy - Sephiroth

Critical Role

Vox Machina - don’t you break my heart // the princess // dating hc’s // swan princess // baby VM // baby VM2 // falling // soft Percy // baby VM girl // first steps // guardian Vax // gods and glory // baby VM angst // poly vaxleth // angry hc’s // mirajane reader // love potion // shy with kisses // cool but fierce // bonded for life // holding hands // Snow White sleep // Percy romance // sweet scanlan // “arranged marriage”angst // under pressure // magic tattoos // Mother’s Day // powerful witch // Percy soulmate // tragic past //

The Mighty Nein - crush hugs with VM // angst // Caleb writing prompt //

Bell’s Hells and Crown Keepers - nicknames with VM // kissing prompts with Percy //

EXU: Calamity - loquacious HC’s // leaving Avalir angst //

Genshin Impact - red panda // love goddess

Arcane and League of Legends - I wrote and write for Viego // Viktor, Jayce, and Silco

Love Languages

Assassin’s Creed - Arno // Ezio // feat multifandom // multifan tea hc’s //

Pirates of the Caribbean - James Norrington

Marvel/DC - I have drabbles and stories for Loki, Jotun Loki, Thor: Love and Thunder (WIP), Aquaman, Superman, and The Batman (Battinson) and many more on my Ao3

nightcrawler

Monster Fics - These are either centric to my OC (Hazel) or are Reader-centric

Curtain call

Star Wars - There’s also some Darth Maul, Boba Fett, and Mandolorian stuff on my ao3 well

Castlevania - artsy love // beach day with CR // multi boys love hc’s // shy kiss // music hc’s // holding hands // I forgot a kiss with CR // wolfwalker HC’s // parent headcanons // linking pinkies // painful past //

Alucard - hit for Alucard // bath hc’s // dragon love // dragon love 2 // lounging love // hesitant, shy reader // cowboy alucard // sequel spin-off // prompt 50 kiss // prompt 8 kiss // hollow knight // prompt 38 i love you // prompt 39, 17 kiss // caring for sick // magician love // expressive love // wearing his coat // affectionate one //

Isaac, Hector - family HC’s (with trev and Al) // Disney princess w/ Trio and VM // hector 16 prompt kiss // 

Trevor, Sypha -  artsy love

Greta -  artsy love // poly with OT3 // poly with Alucard 

Dracula - taking a hit w+ Trevor, Hector and Isaac //  multi boys love hc’s // shy kiss // Lisa apprentice //

Dragon Age - Wolfwalkers

Hellboy/Hellboy II

Baldur’s Gate - Astarion

The Witcher - Geralt

Blood of Zeus

bikini beach // drunk with CV // seraphim smut and angst

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson - blackbird /// i need a hero

Steve and Eddie poly smut

#critical role #dragon age #pirates of the caribbean #stranger things #writing masterlist #writing masterpost #tlovm #vox machina #boz #blood of zeus #castlevania #baldur's gate 3 #the witcher #fanfic #writeblr #hellboy #hellboy ii: the golden army #exophilia #long post #the arcana #marvel #Star Wars #dc #multi fandom #assassin’s creed #genshin impact #arcane league of legends #final fantasy #smut

[likecastle]

In which Jaskier cuts Geralt’s hair

Well, folks, I was inspired by Geralt’s slightly wavier wig in the new S2 promo photos to write a story in which Geralt finally gets some proper haircare and it brings out his natural curl pattern. This somehow turned into 7,000 words of Geralt musing about his own terrible self-image and Jaskier tenderly negotiating a haircut.

Credit for Geralt’s 3-in-1 shower products goes to @exrayspex​, with my thanks for their enthusiasm about this exceedingly soft concept!  

I’d like to put this up on AO3 at some point, but the title has me stumped, so if anyone has a suggestion, please let me know.

“When are you going to let me cut your hair?”

Geralt snorts, incredulous. “I’m not.”

Jaskier fixes Geralt with a pleading look. The streaks of peacock blue Jaskier recently added to his hair really bring out the color of his eyes—all the better to beguile him with. “Come on, Geralt, don’t you trust me?”

“No,” Geralt says, trying without much luck to keep his attention on the TV screen. Suddenly he has to fight the urge to tuck a stray strand of his hair behind his ear.

“It would look so nice if you just took proper care of it,” Jaskier wheedles.

“It doesn’t need to look nice.” Geralt can feel his shoulders creeping up towards his ears, and he wishes Jaskier would look at something else besides him. “It’s just hair.”

“But—”

Geralt jabs the remote in the direction of the TV. “Are you going to let me watch this or do you want to go home?”

“Fine, you grouch,” Jaskier says, returning his attention to the screen.

It must not hold Jaskier’s interest, though, because he can feel Jaskier’s gaze returning to him periodically throughout the rest of the film—which in itself isn’t all that unusual, since Jaskier watches even movies he really likes with one eye on his phone. Except that when Geralt meets his gaze, Jaskier’s looking at him with a wistful, almost sad expression. Geralt doesn’t let himself wonder what might be on his mind.

Later, Jaskier yawns wide and says he’d better be going if he doesn’t want to fall asleep at the wheel on the way home. It’s just a dramatic excuse not to help clean up, Geralt knows, but he can’t help smiling at the way Jaskier rubs at his eyes, smudging the faded remnants of his eyeliner. Geralt walks him to the door, and for a moment Jaskier just stands there on the porch, looking at Geralt thoughtfully.

When his hand reaches up, Geralt freezes. He thinks for a moment that Jaskier’s about to cup his cheek and drawn him down—but he just takes a strand of frizzy hair that’s come loose from Geralt’s ponytail and twists it around a finger.

“I thought so,” Jaskier says, with a private little smile.

Geralt’s sure Jaskier must be able to hear the way his breath’s gotten jammed up in his chest. “Thought—?”

“Nothing.” Jaskier digs his hands into the pockets of his jacket and starts down the front steps. “G’night, Geralt.”

As Geralt tidies away their takeout containers and empty beer bottles, his mind keeps wandering back to Jaskier’s offer. He knows Jaskier’s just trying to be nice—or trying to fix him, the way he tried to “liven up” Geralt’s wardrobe early in their friendship and tried to set him up on dates after he split up with Yen last year. But the options he tries to push on Geralt—the overpriced bomber jacket Jaskier bought him that’s still sitting at the back of his closet, the gorgeous chestnut-haired nurse Jaskier introduced him to—always seem to reflect more about Jaskier’s idea of Geralt than they do about Geralt himself.

Because the thing is, he’s not brash and stylish like Jaskier, who’s all eccentric colors combinations and flashing rings that accentuate his expressive hands. Jaskier knows how to construct an outfit that tells the world exactly who he is at any given moment, from his ever-evolving hairstyles to his painstakingly-sourced vintage clothes. Geralt, on the other hand, is just—nothing, an absence of style. His idea of a good outfit is one he can forget he’s wearing, one that will make everyone else forget him when he’s wearing it. His relationship to his appearance is as estranged as his relationship to his ex-wife. Being in his body, making use of it when he’s lifting weights or hammering a nail or swinging Ciri up in his arms—that makes sense to him. But thinking about his body is the opposite of that. He doesn’t like being looked at, even by himself. He avoids the mirror on his medicine cabinet as much as he can and starts feeling close and queasy if he so much as looks at himself in a dressing room mirror.

Before he goes to bed that night, he shakes his hair out from his ponytail and makes himself take a long, hard look in the mirror. All he sees is the sallow, tired-eyed face of a man who can hardly remember how to smile anymore, a face scarred from carelessness and creased from years of worry. His dull white hair, which Jaskier had twisted so carefully around his finger, is somehow greasy and dried out at the same time, limp around his face but bristly at the ends. He can’t find any sign of the potential Jaskier seems to think is there. He suspects it was never there in the first place—a mirage visible only to well-intentioned flatterers like Jaskier—and he feels foolish for looking.

No, Geralt decides, he’s not going to let Jaskier cut his hair, or do anything else to him. Better not to bother at all.

*

The next time the topic of Geralt’s hair comes up, he’s brought Ciri into Jaskier’s salon for an emergency haircut. Ordinarily, Yennefer handles things like haircuts and clothes shopping, but Saturday night, Ciri emerged from the bathroom with the front her hair lopped off somewhere around her eyebrows and a dawning expression of anxious regret on her face. Geralt had reassured her that everything would be OK, while texting Jaskier frantically for help and silently panicking about what Yen was going to say when she came to pick Ciri up on Sunday night. Thankfully, Jaskier was able to squeeze Ciri into his schedule this afternoon, and he promised to fix Ciri up.

So now Geralt is sitting awkwardly in the waiting area, hunched on a squeaky vinyl-upholstered chair. He’s been to Jaskier’s salon plenty of times—to meet him for lunch or a post-shift drink, to drop off something he left at the house or to give him a ride home—but he rarely does more than stand uneasily just inside the door. The relentless pop music and the echoing acoustics never fail to overwhelm him, as does the muddle of scents—clouds of different hair products and the pervasive smell of something sharp like ammonia. The abundance of mirrors unnerves him, too. Nobody can possibly need to see so many views of their own reflection, can they? Between the curious patrons peering at him in the mirrors and passersby staring in through the plate glass storefront, Geralt feels like he’s on display. And to make matters worse, he keeps catching glimpses of his reflection, his own hunted expression looking back at him from unexpected angles.

Ciri, at least, is having a great time, chatting happily with Jaskier as he snips away at her hair. The last time Geralt took Ciri for a haircut, it was at one of those children’s salons where the chairs looked like toy cars, and now here she is, sitting beside grown women almost like she’s one of them. It scares him, sometimes, to think of her growing up—more than sometimes. There are so many ways the world can fail her, and he can only do so much to protect her. There’s going to come a time when she’s going to get into some kind of trouble he won’t be able to bail her out of, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do with himself when that day comes. But for now, at least he can pay Jaskier to fix her disastrous home-brew haircut.

“What d’you think, Dad?” Ciri calls, and he looks up to see Jaskier removing her cape with a flourish. When he turns Ciri’s chair around to face him, Geralt’s heart catches in his throat. How grown up she looks, he thinks, but what really makes his chest ache is how much she’s coming into herself—becoming someone with her own unique taste in clothes and books and music, who won’t compromise about the bullshit dress codes at school and is brave enough to try something new even if the results are atrocious. He doesn’t know where she gets it.

“You like it?” he asks, not trusting himself to say something that won’t embarrass her.

“Yeah, I guess,” she says with a shrug, and hops down from the chair.

“We could do yours next, Geralt,” Jaskier offers, sweeping up the little blonde fragments of Ciri’s hair from the floor around his station.

“Ooh, yeah!” Ciri grins up at him. “I bet Jaskier would give you a really cool haircut.”

“I’m sure he would,” Geralt says mildly. He doesn’t want to quash Ciri’s enthusiasm or impart his own discomfort to her. It’s one of the things that keeps him up at night, the fear that he’ll pass down all his insecurities. He tries so hard to keep that shit buttoned up, to shield her from his own shortcomings—and he knows it’s inevitable that he’s just going to mess her up in other ways, but he wants to do better for her, has to do better. “Maybe some other time.”

“So you’ll consider it!” Jaskier says triumphantly, coming over to tell the receptionist the total for Ciri’s cut.

Geralt notices Ciri looking at herself in the big mirror behind the front desk, fussing self-consciously with her new fringe. Jaskier must notice, too, because he gives Ciri a big hug and says, “You look great, kiddo. Right, Geralt?”

“Definitely,” Geralt says, surrendering his credit card to the receptionist to pay a frankly staggering amount. He tips a hundred percent.

*

“You should take him up on it,” Yennefer says that evening when Geralt concludes the story of Ciri’s haircut by telling her about Jaskier’s offer to cut Geralt’s hair.

Geralt blinks in surprise. “Really?”

She glances back to where Ciri is waiting for her in the car. “Jaskier did a good job. She and I are going to have a serious conversation later about when to ask for permission and when to ask for forgiveness, but I have to admit it suits her.”

“It does,” Geralt agrees. He realizes he doesn’t know what it would be like, to feel his appearance suited him. He’s never tried, really, to make his exterior reflect his interior, wouldn’t even know where to begin.

“Besides,” Yennefer says, gesturing to his haphazard ponytail, “you really do need to start taking better care of yourself, now that I’m not around to make sure you’re presentable anymore.”

Geralt’s eyebrows shoot up, a smile twitching his lips. “Is that what you were doing? Looking after me?”

Yennefer lifts one hand to tug a lock of his hair, the gesture so similar to Jaskier’s that it makes him shiver, for some reason. “No, but somebody ought to.”

He ducks his head, hoping to hide the ache that washes through him—a longing for something they both wanted but never quite managed to find together. “If you keep Ciri waiting much longer, she’s gonna make a break for it.”

“She would, too,” Yennefer says affectionately. “Take care of yourself, Geralt.” She surprises him by brushing a kiss against his cheek, then turns to go.

Geralt waits until Yennefer’s car is out of sight before he goes inside. As he loads the dinner dishes into the dishwasher, he thinks again about Jaskier’s offer. He’s never been good at asking for things, let alone holding on them once he has them, but it’s been especially hard since he and Yennefer split—even the littlest things feel like they require an effort it’s not worth making. It’s so easy to tell himself he doesn’t need anything—a fancy haircut, a new jacket, a reassuring glance, a gentle touch. But sometimes, maybe, it’s enough to want them.

Wiping soapy water off his hands, Geralt pulls his phone from his pocket and texts Jaskier. Does your offer to cut my hair still stand? Only if you’ve got time.

OMG YES!!! comes the immediate reply. I can be there in 20. Then, a moment later, Jaskier amends, Shit wait make that 40 need to run to get some supplies

Geralt huffs out a laugh. Have to get up early tomorrow. This weekend?

All booked up this weekend but I’m off on Tues so I can come over to your place in the pm if that works for you

He’d hoped to give himself a few days to cancel, just in case he changes his mind, and in this respect Tuesday’s almost no better than forty minutes from now. But he does like the idea of doing this at home, instead of in the salon. He types out OK and hits send before he can think better of it.

Don’t chicken out before then

No promises, Geralt answers.

Jaskier responds with a string of emoji that Geralt finds completely inscrutable, but which make him smile nonetheless.

*

Jaskier arrives on Tuesday evening with a six-pack of cold beer and bag crammed full of supplies.

“I thought you were going to cut my hair, not outlast a siege,” Geralt says, trying to ignore the way his stomach twists with nerves over this impending ordeal. He should have cancelled. He should never have said yes to this ridiculous idea.

“Oh, none of this would be remotely useful in warfare,” Jaskier replies. Then, contemplatively, he says, “Well, maybe some of it. But first, I thought we could have a drink.”

“So you can cut my hair drunk?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier rolls his eyes and brushes past Geralt into the kitchen, dumping his bag into an empty chair at the table. “So you can relax a little for once. And so we can talk.”

Geralt feels the knot of anxiety in his stomach tighten even further. “What is there to talk about? It’s just a haircut.”

Jaskier lets out a long-suffering sigh as he rummages around in Geralt’s cutlery drawer in search of a bottle opener. “Geralt, have you not listened to a single word I’ve said about my job?” He pops off the caps of two bottles of beer and hands one to Geralt. “No, don’t answer that, I know you haven’t.”

Geralt takes a sullen sip of his beer, but he doesn’t dispute the accusation.

With a nod of his head, Jaskier gestures for Geralt to follow him into the living room, and flops down on what Geralt has come to think of as his side of the couch. Geralt sits at the other end, turned to face him. “You need to know what you want going into this, or you won’t get good results.” Jaskier fixes him with a gaze that makes Geralt take another swallow of his beer. “Have you ever given any thought to what you like, or don’t like, about your hair?”

“Not . . . really,” Geralt mumbles, wondering how angry Jaskier would be if he called this whole thing off now.

“Well,” Jaskier says patiently, “why do you keep your hair long? I always assumed it was because you liked how it looked, but I’m realizing now I’ve never asked about it.”

Geralt takes another sip of his beer and tries to think of answer that’s not Because I do. He’s worn it long since high school, when it was primarily something to hide behind. It felt like a kind of fuck-you, an off-putting choice to keep people from looking too closely at him—and to help him forget about other people, too. “It’s easier,” he says finally. “Don’t have to get it cut every few weeks, and I can keep it out of my face.”

“OK, that’s good to know.” The calm, encouraging tone Jaskier’s taking should feel condescending, but Geralt finds he doesn’t mind—or maybe it’s just the beer starting to relax him a little.

“You don’t always tie it back, though, do you?” Jaskier goes on.

Geralt shakes his head. “When I’m working, yeah, but the rest of the time . . .” He shrugs. It depends—on who he’s around, how comfortable he feels with them, hell, how hard the wind is blowing. Sometimes he can’t stand the feeling of it in face, and sometimes the pressure of the hair elastic at the base of his skull is enough to make him want to rip it out.

“Can I . . . ?” Jaskier gestures to Geralt’s hair, and Geralt inclines his head. It’s inevitable that Jaskier will have to touch him if they’re going to go through with this, so there’s no point in being shy about it. Jaskier scoots forward on the couch, and Geralt holds very still, letting him reach back and undo the tie holding his hair back. A sheet of frizzy white strands spills around his bowed head, almost obscuring Jaskier from view.

He can feel Jaskier, though, running his fingers through his hair. The touch makes Geralt’s scalp tingle and a shiver runs through him that he tries and fails to suppress.

“OK?” Jaskier asks, and Geralt nods.

“You’ve never told me when you went grey.” Jaskier’s voice is hushed, almost as if he’s afraid of startling him. He continues to card his hand through Geralt’s hair—with professional curiosity, Geralt realizes, but the touch is so gentle it also feels like a reassurance. Geralt closes his eyes, grateful to be shielded from Jaskier’s view.

“Started in high school,” he says. It’s been a long time since he thought about how, when those first thick streaks of white were coming into his dark hair, kids at school would call him skunk and Cruella de Vil, shit he knew better than to respond to but that just made him even more self-conscious. It occurs to him now that most of his memories of being looked at—really noticed—are colored by other people’s derision for things he can’t help. “It was all like this by the time I was twenty-one, twenty-two. Someone told me once it’s genetic, but . . .” He shrugs again. He’s got no one to ask about a family history of premature graying, no photos of distant relatives to compare himself to.

Gentle fingers tuck his hair back behind one ear, and Geralt looks up to see Jaskier smiling at him. “I would pay good money to see pictures of you in high school. I bet you were so surly.”

“You wouldn’t have liked me,” Geralt says “I was insufferable.” Miserable and ungrateful and roiling with self-righteous anger all the time, hardly able to string a civil sentence together.

Jaskier rewards him with a snort of disbelieving laughter. “You’re insufferable now and I like you just fine.”

This is true, Geralt thinks. His anger has banked down somewhat since those days, but he’s no less difficult to be around, and Jaskier’s never seemed to mind his rough edges. If he’s being honest, he wouldn’t have been able to appreciate Jaskier in those day. His constant talking and absurd jokes would have grated on Geralt’s nerves, back then. They did when he first met Jaskier, in fact. He tried, for a long time, to keep his distance, sure that there was nothing he and Jaskier could possibly have to say to each other. But Jaskier kept turning up, kept surprising him, kept being kind to him for no damn reason. Geralt’s glad he did.

“So,” Jaskier says, pushing the conversation back in his desired direction, as he always does, “what I’m hearing is, you like wearing your hair long?”

Geralt considers, taking another swallow of his beer. Liking doesn’t figure into his thinking much, but it’s not just out of habit that he keeps it this way. “Yeah.”

Jaskier’s nod is solemn. “Anything you don’t like about it?”

Again, Geralt has to give this serious thought. “There are, uh . . .” He gestures to the wiry flyaways that tend to form around his head by the end of the day. They tend to tickle his face unpleasantly as he works, which is irritating when he doesn’t hand a hand free to brush them away.

“Yeah, it’s a little dry,” Jaskier says. “But we can fix that up.” Geralt knows exactly how soft Jaskier’s hair is, and he can’t imagine his own ragged hair could ever come close. “Anything else?”

Geralt shrugs.

“OK,” Jaskier says, “enough with the interrogation. I think I’ve got everything I need.”

Jaskier gets up and retrieves another beer—not for himself, but for Geralt. Jaskier’s fingers brush his as he hands over the bottle, and it gives him the same little shiver that he felt when Jaskier was combing through his hair. “D’you want me to tell you what I’m thinking, or just surprise you?”

Geralt’s gut instinct is to make Jaskier tell him what he’s got in mind, so that he has the option to veto it and put this whole thing to a stop. But he thinks of Jaskier’s teasing question the first time they talked about this—Don’t you trust me?—and how he’d said no when the answer is really yes. So he takes a deep pull of his beer and says, “Surprise me.”

The look of glee on Jaskier’s face is worth the knot of dread that immediately forms in Geralt’s stomach. He takes another drinks and reminds himself that it’s just hair. It’ll grow back.

“You’re not gonna regret it, I promise,” Jaskier says, and then his warm hands are urging Geralt up and off the couch.

It takes them a while to get everything situated to Jaskier’s liking—the bathroom is too cramped to accommodate a chair, so Jaskier has Geralt drag one into the kitchen, covering the floor in newspapers to catch the stray clippings. Then Jaskier sends Geralt to wash his hair while he sets up the rest of his supplies. When Geralt comes back downstairs, his hair soaking into his t-shirt, there is a truly staggering array of equipment spread out on the counter, Jaskier’s own little traveling apothecary kit, with everything from dangerously sharp scissors to brightly-colored bottles of product to some kind of instrument that looks like a bowl full of dull spikes, which Jaskier says attaches to his hair dryer.

“Rule number one,” Jaskier says, grabbing the towel out of Geralt’s hands. “No more regular towels on your hair. Your hair deserves to be treated with care.” Geralt snorts, but the towel he hands Geralt is pleasantly soft, with finer knap that’s soft as fleece in his hands. “And don’t rub at it,” Jaskier scolds. He steps closer, wrapping his hands around Geralt’s to guide him, his hand moving in a gentle squeezing motion. “That’s good,” he says, and Geralt feels his cheeks flush.

Once Geralt’s hair is toweled dry, Jaskier maneuvers him into the chair, and combs out his hair with a wide-toothed comb. Jaskier is exceedingly careful not to yank on the knots, but even so the gentle tug sets his skin tangling. Geralt knows his scalp is sensitive—he can remember fighting back tears while Vesemir struggled to brush out his unruly hair as a kid—but it’s never felt like this before. Of course, that might have something to do with the fact that ordinarily, when he finally breaks down and subjects himself to a trim, he just asks Eskel do come over and cut it with the kitchen scissors. Even with someone he trusts as profoundly as he does Eskel, it’s still an uncomfortable ordeal that makes him unaccountably tense. But this isn’t painful, or unnerving at all. It’s . . . nice, embarrassingly so. He can’t help wondering what it would feel like if Jaskier were to drag his nails along his scalp—and then he has to force himself not to think about it, because even the thought of the sensation sends a shudder through him.

Thankfully, Jaskier is busy fiddling with his phone, and a moment later he puts on a playlist he likes to call Geralt’s Sad Dad Rock mix. Geralt appreciates the background noise—familiar songs he can tune out if he wants to, quiet enough that the music’s not intrusive.

“OK,” Jaskier says, snapping a cape around Geralt’s throat. His hand comes to rest on Geralt’s shoulder and he leans in to speak almost directly into Geralt’s ear. “Ready?”

Geralt suppresses another chill and says, “As I’ll ever be.”

Jaskier gives his shoulder a reassuring squeeze and gets to work. Geralt’s grateful for the lack of mirrors, because it means he doesn’t have to see what Jaskier’s doing, but at the same time it leaves him without much to go on—just the touch of the comb, Jaskier’s hands carefully repositioning his head, his fingers pulling this or that lock of hair taut to snip at them with the scissors. Eventually, Geralt closes his eyes and lets Jaskier’s voice wash over him. Jaskier often accuses Geralt of not listening to him when he talks, but in truth it’s easy to get lost in the lilting cadence of his speech, like hearing a song but not its lyrics.

“. . . and the thing is,” Jaskier’s saying, though Geralt lost the thread of his rambling long ago, “the more you do it, the better your results will be. You just have to help them along . . .”

He can see why Jaskier’s clients like him so much, how nice it is to fall into the pattern of someone else’s words, especially when that someone has as nice a voice as Jaskier. He’s often grateful for Jaskier’s conversation, which fills silences Geralt didn’t even realize were empty until he came along.

When Jaskier says, “OK, you’re all done,” Geralt is surprised by how quickly the time has passed. “We can just leave it at that and just let it air dry, or . . .” Even though he can’t see Jaskier, he can picture the hopeful expression on his face.

“What?” Geralt asks, twisting around in the chair to look Jaskier in the eye.

Jaskier bites his bottom lip, looking almost nervous. “Or I could show you how to style it. If you wanted. Nothing over the top, I promise.”

Geralt thinks it over. On the one hand, there’s no way he’ll ever bother repeating anything Jaskier shows him how to do, but on the other hand, he wouldn’t mind having Jaskier’s hands on him a little longer. “All right.”

“Really?” Jaskier’s eyes go wide. “Nope, never mind, I’m not gonna second-guess this. No take-backs! You’re committed now.”

Which is how Geralt finds himself being hustled back upstairs and into the bathroom. Jaskier pulls back the shower curtain and is about to start issuing instructions when he lets out a squawk and staggers backward.

Geralt looks around in alarm, expecting to see a giant spider in the tub. It’s only belatedly that he realizes he’s thrown an arm out in front of Jaskier, as if that will protect him from whatever nonexistent threat he was reacting to. “What?”

“Geralt, for shame!” Jaskier exclaims, pointing to the bottle of 3-in-1 shampoo/conditioner/body wash on the edge of the tub. “Is that yours?” He says it with all the breathless horror of someone discovering a murder weapon.

“Uh . . .” Geralt has the distinct feeling he should try to deny it, but there’s no point in trying to pretend. “Yes?”

And then Jaskier is laughing, but it’s warm with delight, not mocking or cruel. In fact, he looks up at Geralt with such fondness that Geralt almost can’t bear it. “Oh, you poor man,” Jaskier says between gusts of laughter. “No wonder your hair is so dry!”

“. . . It’s efficient,” Geralt mutters in a half-hearted attempt to defend himself.

“It’s like washing your hair with dish soap. But don’t worry,” he adds, pressing a hand to Geralt’s chest, “I’ll get you sorted out and then your hair will be so soft it’ll be completely irresistible.”

“Hmm,” Geralt says dubiously, but Jaskier just grins at him.

“OK, this next part is going to be a little awkward. Ordinarily you’d do it by yourself in the shower, but I’m gonna take a wild guess and say you’d rather not jump in the shower with me right now.”

Geralt very much does not acknowledge the wave of heat that rolls through him at the thought.  “Probably wouldn’t fit, anyway.”

“Eh, I’ve made it work in smaller spaces than this,” Jaskier says, with such casual confidence that Geralt’s mouth goes dry. “But luckily, you’ve got one of those detachable showerheads, so we should be just fine. Might be easier, though, if you, uh, take off your shirt off.”

Geralt’s already come this far, and, besides, it’s not like Jaskier hasn’t seen him without his shirt on before. As Geralt strips off his shirt, Jaskier puts a towel down on the floor and beckons him to kneel down at the edge the tub. He’s careful to get the water to a comfortable temperature before he puts a warm hand on Geralt’s bare back, guiding him to lean over, his head bowed.

The routine Jaskier directs him through is more complicated than Geralt could ever have anticipated. There’s a thick, dark purple shampoo that Jaskier instructs him to use only once a week—he has another shampoo he’ll give Geralt to use at other times, but really, Jaskier insists, he should only be washing his hair a couple of times a week, anyway. Jaskier shows him how to rub the shampoo into his scalp only and let the water draw it down through the rest of his hair. The pressure of the spray on his scalp makes his skin tingle, as does the press of Jaskier’s body against his side. When Geralt doesn’t apply the conditioner to Jaskier’s liking, he adjusts Geralt’s hands with his own, smoothing their joined fingers through Geralt’s slippery hair. And when it comes time to rinse the conditioner out, he shows Geralt how to cup the water in his palms and press it into the wet mass of his hair.

“You’re doing great,” Jaskier tells him, and Geralt is grateful his face is hidden behind ropes of his wet hair.

Finally, Jaskier pronounces himself satisfied and turns off the water. Now that they’re done the task of washing his hair, Geralt’s awkwardly aware of his chest dripping with water in the cool air of the bathroom—and of Jaskier standing less than an arm’s length away from him.

Jaskier, on the other hand, is nothing but professional, rubbing a series of products into his hands and then smoothing them over Geralt’s hair. After each application, he gathers Geralt’s hair in his hands and presses it up toward Geralt’s scalp, just like they did with the water. It’s a bizarre motion, like nothing Geralt’s ever seen before, but it seems to be having the desired effect, because the strands of hair hanging down in front of his face are slowly forming into thick coils, and Jaskier keeps making little satisfied humming sounds with each new application. Jaskier finishes by wrapping Geralt’s hair up in another one of those extra soft towels.

“And now we wait,” he says, hopping up onto the sink.

Geralt pulls his shirt on again, careful not to disturb the towel on his head, and he might be wrong but he thinks that he catches a little disappointed frown cross Jaskier’s face, but it’s gone before he can be sure.

“Thanks for indulging me,” Jaskier says. “I know you don’t really like this kind of stuff, but I’m having a great time.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be,” Geralt replies. But that sounds worse than it did in his head, and he hastens to add, “I mean—it’s nice—when it’s you.”

Jaskier’s smile is something Geralt can’t quite get to the bottom of—fond and wry and maybe a little sad, too. “Well, I’ve been dying to do this pretty much since the moment I met you, so, you know, thanks for that.”

It’s strange to think Jaskier has been harboring private aspirations where Geralt is concerned. But then Jaskier’s always been full of surprises when it comes to him—immune to his ill temper, amused by his rudeness, tenacious enough to bully his way past his silences. He’s never understood what Jaskier sees in him, and he often feels he offers a poor reward for the hard work Jaskier puts in to being his friend. Because it’s not easy, Geralt knows. Plenty of people have decided Geralt was too difficult to get to know, or too prickly to stick with. Even Yennefer, who’s loved him better than he could possibly deserve, struggled to make inroads against Geralt’s defenses. It never seemed to matter how much he loved Yennefer, he could never bring himself to relax around her. He was always on tenterhooks, waiting for the other shoe to drop—until, in time, it did, a sort of self-fulfilling prophecy. He can’t blame Yennefer ending things. She wants things he doesn’t know how to give. He couldn’t figure out how to change himself into the sort of person she deserved.

“D’you want another beer?” Jaskier asks, nudging Geralt’s knee with his bare foot.

He wouldn’t mind another drink, but he’s loathe to puncture the peaceful little moment that’s grown up between them. “Let’s just stay here.”

Jaskier nods, and a moment later Fleetwood Mac comes on over Jaskier’s phone speakers—one of the only bands they can agree on—and Jaskier treats him to an inspired rendition of “Dreams,” his voice turned otherworldly by the chill acoustics of the bathroom tiles. Geralt watches Jaskier dance on his perch on the edge of the sink and wonders, with an ache in his chest, what it would be like to be so uninhibited, so comfortable in his own skin. He can’t imagine it, but sometimes he feels like he’s maybe just a half-step closer to knowing when he’s around Jaskier.

When the song fades out, Jaskier hops down from the counter and says, “OK, time for the last step.”

Jaskier sticks that torture device attachment onto his hair dryer and lets Geralt’s hair down from the towel. Jaskier lets him stay seated, and starts drying his hair. He doesn’t pull Geralt’s hair taut with a brush, as Geralt has seen Yennefer do when styling her own hair. Instead, he gathers it up a section of hair in that little torture device accessory and holds the dryer still, letting the air work around the strands. Geralt closes his eyes against the noise and sensation of the air against his scalp. It lasts a long time, Geralt bracing his arms on his thighs as Jaskier moves the hair dryer around his head. The noise of the dryer makes conversation difficult, and Geralt feels strangely distant from Jaskier all of a sudden, even though he’s standing so close Geralt could press his face to the soft flesh of his stomach if he wanted to. He knots his hands together between his knees to keep himself from just reaching out and pulling Jaskier close.

When Jaskier finally switches off the hair dryer, the silence it leaves feels big. It’s probably just the heat from the hair dyer, but Geralt feels flushed and a little rubbed raw.

“All right,” Jaskier says, fixing him with a considering look. “Let me just . . .” He reaches out and grips Geralt’s hair in both hands. He doesn’t so much tug as gently crush the strands, but the pressure is enough to make Geralt’s mouth fall open, and he doesn’t exactly make a noise but something happens in his chest like his lungs kickstarting. Jaskier glances down at him with an inquisitive smile. “Sorry, too hard?”

It’s all Geralt can do to shake his head.

“All done,” Jaskier says. When he lets go, Geralt immediately misses the touch. “Wanna take a look?”

Geralt stands up and turns to regard himself in the mirror. To say he doesn’t recognize himself would be an overstatement, but the sight of his reflection is a surprise. The cut doesn’t seem all that different in terms of length, but the ragged edges are gone. The dingy white of his hair has turned a gleaming silver, and it hangs around his face not in its usual lank tangle, but in softly curling waves. It’s almost . . . pretty, a word he’s never associated with himself in his entire life. The new brightness of his hair makes his face seem clearer, more open somehow, and the gentle curls offset the hard lines of his face in a way that make his features look almost delicate, or in any case less roughly hewn than usual. He reaches up to touch it, and to his amazement, it’s just as soft as Jaskier promised it would be. Maybe not as soft as Jaskier’s own hair, but much nicer than he can remember it ever feeling before.

“You like it?” Jaskier asks, and in the mirror, Geralt can see he’s looking at him with a hopeful expression. It makes something twist in his stomach—longing, and at the same time a rejection of what he wants, the certainty that he can’t possibly hang onto anything nice for long enough to enjoy it.

“You know I’ll never go to all this trouble,” he says, gruffly, and immediately regrets it when he sees Jaskier’s smile slip from his face.

“No, I know,” Jaskier says, and starts packing up his supplies. “I just wanted to try it. I’ll still leave you all the products, just in case you change your mind, or—”

“Jaskier.” Geralt swallows hard, and puts a hand on Jaskier’s shoulder. “I—”

Jaskier looks at him with such a searching expression that Geralt hardly knows how to look at him. He’s never known someone who’s so much all the time, expansive and loud and demanding and generous and so goddamn bright.

“What I should have said,” Geralt says, against the tension threatening to stop his throat, “is that I wouldn’t have tried this if it weren’t for you. It’s . . .” He’s not sure how to answer Jaskier’s question. Does he like it? He looks so unlike himself that he honestly doesn’t know what to make of it. He can’t tell if it suits him or not, because he still isn’t sure what that would mean. But he likes the idea that Jaskier’s uncovered this version of him, that this might be how Jaskier sees him in his mind’s eye. “I’m glad we tried it. Thank you.”

“I am, too,” Jaskier says, quietly. “Even if you never do it again, I’m glad you trusted me enough to try. And for the record?” The twist of his lips is almost pained, but it’s a smile all the same. “You look fucking gorgeous.”

Geralt ducks his head, his shoulders inching up. “Jaskier . . .”

“No, I’m serious, Geralt.” Jaskier sounds annoyed, almost angry, all of a sudden. “I know you don’t care about superficial stuff—”

“That’s not—”

“—but take it from someone who spends a lot of time looking at people and doing my best to make them look as good as I possibly can: you’re objectively really fucking good-looking.” Jaskier lets out a harsh, reckless laugh. “And if you don’t care about my professional opinion, I also happen to think you’re the most attractive person I’ve ever met in my entire life, so there’s that.”

“I—”

Now that Jaskier’s started talking, he can’t seem to stop. “You’re the most incredible person I know, Geralt,” he says, in a breathless rush, “and I’m not talking just about your looks—although you are genuinely so ridiculously handsome that it’s really not fair. You’re kind for no reason and incredibly devoted and, OK, sort of a dick sometimes, but also so goddamn careful with other people and so fucking hard on yourself, and I just—I wish you could see yourself the way I do. I wish I could show you, even for just a second, because—”

“You did,” Geralt says. Jaskier stares at him, stunned into silence, and Geralt takes the opportunity to continue. “You do. Not just tonight.” He’s breathing hard, and he tries not to think about how dangerous this feels, like standing up on the top of a tall ladder or walking the line of a roof that might collapse under him at any moment. “When I’m with you, I feel like I could be that person you see in me, maybe. I just . . . don’t know how.”

Jaskier laughs again—softer this time. “You dummy,” he says, “you already are. You’ve just got to believe it.”

“Oh, is that all,” Geralt says.

“Yeah, no big deal,” Jaskier says, waving one hand dismissively. “You’ve got me to convince you, after all.”

“Oh, yeah?” Geralt can’t help the smile spreading across his face, despite the shivery feeling still simmering under his skin. “How’re you gonna do that?”

“Well . . .” Jaskier takes a step towards him, and then another, settling his hands lightly on Geralt’s hips. “I’d probably start a little like this . . .”

The first touch of Jaskier’s lips on his is like a breath of clean air after a storm, and Geralt can feel something that’s been knotted tight inside him for a long time unfurling itself. It doesn’t feel dangerous anymore, that buzz under his skin transmuting into a golden glow. He knows it’s not as simple as it feels—he can’t expect Jaskier to change him with a single kiss—but for the first time in a long while, something feels purely, unequivocally good, and he wants more of it.

In time, Jaskier’s hands creep up Geralt’s sides to his back, even as Geralt’s own hands drift down past Jaskier’s waist. When Jaskier’s hands slip into his hair, Geralt wrenches himself free with a shiver. “You’re going to undo all your hard work,” he says, teasingly.

“D’you really care?” Jaskier asks, and scratches his nails along Geralt’s scalp, wringing a whine from deep in Geralt’s chest that should be embarrassing but isn’t.  

“Not really,” Geralt gasps, his whole body pressing closer against Jaskier’s. “You can always do it again.”

Jaskier’s smile is wide as he bends to kiss him again. “That’s what I thought.”

#the witcher #witcher modern au #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #cirilla of cintra #geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #gerlion #some background yennalt here #i've got 99 problems and aus are all of them #hairdresser!jaskier #i can't believe i wrote modern au witcher fic and still wound up writing a bath fic #the witcher fandom loves baths apparently #somebody please help me title this thing #i need a title that isn't when the rain washes you clean you'll know

[bamf-jaskier]

Okay so I’m going to try and do a comparison of some of the major scenes between Geralt and Yennefer in Bottled Appetites vs The Last Wish. 

Warning: this is a very long post and I tried to keep it as short as possible but Geralt and Yennefer is the relationship that is mainly focused on in both the short story and the show so there’s..a lot of content here. 

Now, before I really jump in it’s important to note that the show is basically the spark notes version of the book, there’s a lot of missing content in the show mostly because the book just has so much more complexity so for a brief timeline:

Jaskier is injured

Talks to Chireadan 

Meets Yennefer

Take Bath Together 

Yennefer mind-controls Geralt and send him off to go fight some council members

THEN this is where the show and book differ 

In the books, Yennefer’s mind-control has more obvious consequences and Geralt gets into legal trouble and there’s a whole scene with some town leaders threatening Geralt and Jaskier. (Although it is important to note Yennefer in the books has a back-up plan to save Geralt)

As well when Geralt goes to stop Yennefer in the books from capturing the Djinn  she portals away with Geralt and they hate-crash a Noble’s party before having a conversation and fighting the Djinn again, Geralt makes his third wish and then they have sex 

So basically the townspeople sub-plot is removed in the show and the Djinn fight is streamlined into one-scene instead of multiple. Now understanding that, let’s get into the scene comparisons. 

Geralt Meeting Yennefer:

The Last Wish:

“You parried my spell,” she finally said. “You're not a sorcerer; that's obvious. But you reacted exceptionally fast. Tell me who you are, stranger who has come in peace. And I advise you to speak quickly.”

“I’m Geralt of Rivia. A witcher.”

Yennefer leaned out of the bed, grasping a faun—engraved on the pole—by a piece of anatomy well adapted to being grasped. Without taking her eyes off Geralt, she picked a coat with a fur collar up off the floor and wrapped herself up in it tightly before getting up. She poured herself another mug of juice without hurrying, drank it in one go, coughed and came closer. Geralt discreetly rubbed his lower back which, a moment ago, had collided painfully with the wall.

“Geralt of Rivia,” repeated the sorceress, looking at him from behind black lashes. “How did you get in here? And for what reason? You didn't hurt Berrant, I hope?”

“No. I didn't. Lady Yennefer, I need your help.”

“A witcher,” she muttered, coming up even closer and wrapping the coat around her more tightly. “Not only is it the first one I’ve seen up close but it's none other than the famous White Wolf. I’ve heard about you.”

“I can imagine.”

“I don't know what you can imagine.” 

She yawned, then came even closer. “May I?” She touched his cheek and looked him in the eyes. He clenched his jaw. “Do your pupils automatically adapt to light or can you narrow and dilate them according to your will?”

“Yennefer,” he said calmly, “I rode nonstop all day from Rinde. I waited all night for the gates to open. I gave your doorman, who didn't want to let me in, a blow to the head. I disturbed your sleep and peace, discourteously and importunately. All because my friend needs help which only you can give him. Give it to him, please, and then, if you like, we can talk about mutations and aberrations.”

She took a step back and contorted her lips unpleasantly. “What sort of help do you mean?”

“The regeneration of organs injured through magic. The throat, larynx and vocal cords. An injury caused by a scarlet mist. Or something very much like it.”

The Show:

Yennefer: And quite a bit more. You’re immune.

Geralt: You must be the mage.

Yennefer: Yennefer of Vengerberg. 

Geralt: Hm. Chireadan didn’t mention that, uh…

Yennefer: What did he fail to mention?

Geralt: We need your help.

Yennefer: “We”? [Geralt looks to Jaskier who gives a feeble wave.] Just a friend, I hope? [Geralt looks back at her.] Your heartbeat, it’s extraordinarily slow. You’re… a mutant.

Geralt: A witcher. Geralt of Rivia.

Yennefer: The famous White Wolf! [Standing up she steps close to Geralt.] I thought you’d have fangs or horns or something.

Geralt: I had them filed down.

Yennefer: [chuckles] First time I’ve seen a witcher up close. [She circles him, looks him over.] What little spells can you cast with your hands? Call it professional curiosity.

Geralt: Please, Jaskier here needs immediate attention. And then, if you’d like, I’ll indulge your curiosity all night long.

Yennefer: It won’t take all night. But I’m sure we can find a way to fill the time.

Geralt: [holding up the small sack with the pot’s shards] He was attacked by a djinn.

Yennefer: A djinn?

Geralt: Whatever’s wrong with him, it’s spreading. [Yennefer takes the sack and inspects the contents.] Fix it and I’ll pay you. Whatever the price.

Yennefer: You’ll have to do better than juice. [to the undulating figures] "Ragamuffin"!

In the books there is no orgy sequence, instead Yennefer has been mainly just been fucking with the merchant Beau Berrant, who in the show is the Mayor of Rinde. The apple juice sequence occurs in both adaptations and Geralt goes to Yennefer. In the books, Yennefer is alone in Berrant’s bedchambers, in the show she is in the orgy sequence. If you read the passages, they share the same bare bones. Yennefer tries to bespell Geralt, he is immune, she comments on his mutation, Geralt asks for help. 

Yennefer and Geralt have the same flirtatious overtones in both adaptations. Honestly I don’t have much to say here because it parallels relatively well as far as characterization goes. I will say I prefer the book’s prose but I also understand that the show has more simplistic writing and wording. 

Anya Chalotra has fantastic energy in playing Yennefer and the tension between the actors in this scene are quite apparent. 

Bathing Together:

The Last Wish:

She entered the bath-chamber just as Geralt, sitting naked on a tiny stool, was pouring water over himself from a bucket. He cleared his throat and modestly turned his back to her.

“Don't be embarrassed,” she said, throwing an armful of clothing on the hook. “I don't faint at the sight of a naked man. Triss Merigold, a friend, says if you've seen one, you've seen them all.”

He got up, wrapping a towel round his hips.

“Beautiful scar.” She smiled, looking at his chest. “What was it? Did you fall under the blade in a sawmill?”

He didn't answer. The sorceress continued to observe him, tilting her head coquettishly.

“The first witcher I can look at from close up, and completely naked at that. Aha!” She leaned over, listening. “I can hear your heart beat. It's very slow. Can you control how much adrenalin you secrete? Oh, forgive me my professional curiosity. Apparently, you're touchy about the qualities of your own body. You're wont to describe these qualities using words which I greatly dislike, lapsing into pompous sarcasm with it, something I dislike even more.”

He didn't answer.“Well, enough of that. My bath is getting cold.” Yennefer moved as if she wanted to discard her coat, then hesitated. “I’ll take my bath while you talk, to save time. But I don't want to embarrass you and, besides, we hardly know each other. So then, taking decency into account—”

“I’ll turn around,” he proposed hesitantly.“No. I have to see the eyes of the person I’m talking to. I’ve got a better idea.”

He heard an incantation being recited, felt his medallion quiver and saw the black coat softly slip to the floor. Then he heard the water splashing.

“Now I can't see your eyes, Yennefer,” he said. “And that's a pity.”

The invisible sorceress snorted and splashed in the tub. “Go on.”

The Show:

[Later, in the bathroom, Geralt takes a bath while Yennefer keeps him company]

Yennefer: Fishing for a djinn seems an extreme measure to remedy sleeplessness.

Geralt: When extreme measures seem reasonable, yes, I’m desperate.

Yennefer: And yet you didn’t ask me to help with that.

Geralt: Looming death kind of jumped the queue. Now I’m wondering if I can afford you. Have I accidentally agreed to indentured servitude? [Yennefer notices his scars.] Go ahead, ask about them. Everyone does.

Yennefer: Everyone else is boring. [She undresses and steps into the tub.] Turn around.

Geralt: [Tries to look at her in a mirror, but Yennefer moves it with magic so he can’t see] That’s cheating.

Yennefer: Nobody smart plays fair. Tell me, are all witchers similarly blessed? [She sits down so they’re back to back.] Come now, you promised.

Geralt: Hm. I haven’t conducted a survey, but I’d hardly say we’re blessed.

Okay!! Now I can get more into the characterization differences because oh boy are there some here. First, Yennefer mentions Triss in the books which I would have loved to see in the show but the main thing here is how they objectify each other. In both adaptations, Yennefer notices Geralt’s scars when they begin to bathe together but in the books, Yennefer uses it as a way to pry more into the biological functions of Witchers whereas in the show she uses it as a way to talk about their shitty childhoods. 

This ties into how the show, instead of focusing on the more biological aspects of Witchers, focuses on the tragic backstory of the characters. Of course, Lauren is of the mindset (like much of fandom) that Witchers are more animalistic while Sapko really pushes the idea that Witchers are creations of science so it makes sense the show wouldn’t want to talk about Witcher science as much. 

As well, in the books, Geralt is rather respectful to Yennefer, promising to avert his gaze and she ends up turning invisible so she can objectify him but he can’t objectify her. It places Yennefer in charge and the obviously more powerful force in the room. 

In the show, Geralt tries to take a peak at Yennefer and they sit back to back, establishing them as equals. And this is no mistake. In the books, Yennefer is quite a bit older than Geralt, she is powerful mage and Geralt is just a guy. Yennefer is the one in power in their relationship and that is obvious in every aspect of their relationship. 

The show made Geralt 32 years older than Yennefer. They push a narrative of Yennefer and Geralt being on more equal footing (or even at times go as far as to make Geralt seem the more mature and older one which we will see later with Yennefer not being aware of the Wish). 

This reverses a lot of the show/book dynamic where instead of Yennefer being the dominant one she is on equal footing with Geralt. Of course, this is likely due to Henry Cavill being around 37 and Anya Chalotra being around 23. Hollywood is allergic to the older woman/younger man dynamic that is seen in the books so making Yennefer seem younger is not a problem specific to The Witcher but with Hollywood at large.  (Not to say it isn’t still bad to see this perpetuated in the show because it is)

Yennefer mind-controlling Geralt:

The Last Wish:

“He's asleep,” said Yennefer. “And dreaming.”

Geralt examined the patterns traced on the floor. The magic hidden within them was palpable, but he knew it was a dormant magic. It brought to mind the purr of a sleeping lion, without suggesting how the roar might sound.

“What is this, Yennefer?”

“A trap.”

“For what?”

“For you, for the time being.” The sorceress turned the key in the lock, then turned it over in her hand. The key disappeared.

“And thus I’m trapped,” he said coldly. “What now? Are you going to assault my virtue?”

“Don't flatter yourself.” Yennefer sat on the edge of the bed. Dandilion, still smiling like a moron, groaned quietly. It was, without a doubt, a groan of bliss.

“I already knew what you were like,” she continued, “after exchanging a few words with you in Beau's bedroom. And I knew what form of payment I’d demand from you. My accounts in Rinde could be settled by anyone, including Chireadan. But you're the one who's going to do it because you have to pay me. For your insolence, for the cold way you look at me, for the eyes which fish for every detail, for your stony face and sarcastic tone of voice. For thinking that you could stand face-to-face with Yennefer of Vergerberg and believe her to be full of self-admiration and arrogance, a calculating witch, while staring at her soapy tits. Pay up, Geralt of Rivia!”

She grabbed his hair with both hands and kissed him violently on the lips, sinking her teeth into them like a vampire. The medallion on his neck quivered and it felt to Geralt as if the chain was shrinking and strangling him. Something blazed in his head while a terrible humming filled his ears. He stopped seeing the sorceress's violet eyes and fell into darkness.He was kneeling. Yennefer was talking to him in a gentle, soft voice.“You remember?”

“Yes, my lady.” It was his own voice.

“So go and carry out my instructions.”

“At your command, my lady.”

“You may kiss my hand.”

“Thank you, my lady.”He felt himself approach her on his knees. 

Ten thousand bees buzzed in his head. Her hand smelt of lilac and gooseberries. Lilac and gooseberries…Lilac and gooseberries…A flash. Darkness.

The Show:

Yennefer: If you wake him before he’s healed, the spell won’t take. That’s no way to treat a friend, Geralt.

Geralt: You want the djinn, but the amphora’s broken. The djinn’s already long gone. [Suddenly the candles around the sign flare up.]

Yennefer: [rubbing perfume onto her wrists] Do go on. Tell me how stuff works. The djinn is tied to this plane and its master. How many wishes did the bard express before he lost his voice?

Geralt: You need Jaskier to make his last wish so you can capture it.

Yennefer: So that’s… two then.

Geralt: The djinn will fight you. If you try and bend it- [He breaks off, clears his throat then inhales.] Ah… That scent… Lilac and…

Yennefer: Gooseberries. [Geralt exhales sharply.] Tough to get in your head. You have a strong will, but you can’t contend with me. Sorry I couldn’t be direct, I knew you’d fight it. [She leans up to kiss him, bites on his bottom lip until it bleeds.] And I do love a good old-fashioned trap.

Geralt: [slurring] A good old-fashioned… nap. [His eyes flutter shut.]

I mentioned how the show is a spark notes? Well, in the books Yennefer finds out through interrogating Geralt in the bath how many wishes are left. As well, in the books Yennefer is much more physically violent, again asserting the idea that she is the dominant one in the relationship and that she is in charge. 

Honestly, the show softens Yennefer quite a bit in this scene. While she does bite his lip, it’s slowly and not particularly violent. In the books, she is compared to a vampire, grabbing his hair, pulling him down. 

It all ties into the softer, younger version of Yennefer we see in the show vs the books. She is not as aggressive in the show and also not as dominant. Again, this could be due to the actor’s age difference but I also think it ties into Hollywood’s avoidance of placing women in a position that is above a male character. (Especially with Henry Cavill as Geralt, he would be unlikely to play a more subservient role to a woman purposefully considering some of his past statements about Me Too). However, having Yennefer as less aggressive also might make her more relatable to the audience and have her be more likable. At least, that could be what the writers were going for but I’m not psychic and I couldn’t tell you for sure. 

Geralt trying to save Yennefer from the Djinn:

The Last Wish:

“Yennefer saw him, jumped up and raised her hand.

“No!” he shouted, “don't do this! I want to help you!”

“Help?” She snorted. “You?”

“Me.”

“In spite of what I did to you?”

“In spite of it.”

“Interesting. But not important. I don't need your help. Get out of here.”

“No.”

“Get out of here!” she yelled, grimacing ominously. “It's getting dangerous! The whole thing's getting out of control; do you understand? I can't master him. I don't get it, but the scoundrel isn't weakening at all! I caught him once he'd fulfilled the troubadour's third wish and I should have him in the sphere by now. But he's not getting any weaker! Dammit, it looks as if he's getting stronger! But I’m still going to get the better of him. I’ll break—”

“You won't break him, Yennefer. He'll kill you.”

“It's not so easy to kill me—”

She broke off. The whole roof of the tavern suddenly flared up. The vision projected by the sphere dissolved in the brightness. A huge fiery rectangle appeared on the ceiling. The sorceress cursed as she lifted her hands, and sparks gushed from her fingers. 

“Run, Geralt!”

“What's happening, Yennefer?”

“He's located me…” She groaned, flushing red with effort. “He wants to get at me. He's creating his own portal to get in. He can't break loose but he'll get in by the portal. I can't—I can't stop him!”

“Yennefer—”

“Don't distract me! I’ve got to concentrate…Geralt, you've got to get out of here. I’ll open my portal, a way for you to escape. Be careful; it'll be a random portal. I haven't got time or strength for any other…I don't know where you'll end up…but you'll be safe…Get ready—.” 

... (description paragraph skip)

“This way!” shouted Yennefer, indicating the portal which she had conjured up oh the wall by the stairs. In comparison to the one created by the genie, the sorceress's portal looked feeble, extremely inferior. “This way, Geralt! Run for it!”

“Only with you!”

Yennefer, sweeping the air with her hands, was shouting incantations and the many-colored fetters showered sparks and creaked. The djinn whirled like the bumble-bee, pulling the bonds tight, then loosening them. Slowly but surely he was drawing closer to the sorceress. Yennefer did not back away.

The witcher leapt to her, deftly tripped her up, grabbed her by the waist with one hand and dug the other into her hair at the nape. Yennefer cursed nastily  and thumped him in the neck with her elbow. He didn't let go of her. The penetrating smell of ozone, created by the curses, didn't kill the smell of lilac and gooseberries. Geralt stilled the sorceress's kicking legs and jumped, raising her straight up to the opalescently flickering nothingness of the lesser portal.

 The Show:

[In the bedroom]

Yennefer: [still chanting in Elder]

Geralt: [as he enters, Yennefer lifts a hand in his direction.] Don’t! I’m here to help you.

Yennefer: [lowers her hand] I don’t need your help. You’re free. No longer under my spell.

Geralt: And yet here I am.

Yennefer: You seem to want to meet your end.

Geralt: As do you.

Yennefer: [groans] The djinn isn’t weakening. The bard expressed his last wish, but it’s- [screams] it’s getting stronger! Go!

Geralt: That’s because I’m the one with the wishes.

Yennefer: You? You’re the djinn’s master?

Geralt: Yeah.

Yennefer: Well, what are you waiting for? [She screams as her bones crack.] Make your wishes!

Geralt: Becoming the vessel for the djinn will have you lose control, not gain it! Can’t you see what this is doing to you?

Yennefer: True transformation is painful.

Geralt: Release the djinn! I’ll give you my last wish!

Yennefer: You heroic protector… noble dog, permitting my success so long as you command it yourself. Fuck off! I’ll do this myself!

Geralt: Damn it, Yennefer! Tell me what you want!

Yennefer: I want everything!

[In the bedroom, Yennefer’s eyes have gone red, her voice distorted]

Djinn: [speaking through Yennefer] Make your wish! You can have anything you want! You could choose not to be a witcher. What do you desire? Immortality? Riches? Fame? Power?

Geralt: I wish… [The rest of his words are drowned out by the wind. Yennefer falls forward and the wind calms down. Geralt pulls up his sleeve to reveal the third cut.]

Yennefer: The djinn… Wh- Where did it go? [The house groans and creaks, and the two look to the ceiling as it crashes down.]

Yennefer still craves power and wants for everything in the show. In the books, she is more established and wants to try and control the Djinn. This is why when Geralt comes back for Yennefer, both versions express surprise at why Geralt would come back to help after they cast a spell on him but Netflix!Yennefer tells Geralt to fuck off on the basis she doesn’t want a man controlling her life (tying into the Strong Female Character Trope) while Book!Yennefer wants Geralt out of danger first and foremost.

Of course, much of this in the show is likely a response to try and subvert the “damsel in distress” stereotype and while the books have Yennefer as the dominant one and in control, showing that she in not in distress, the show has her explicitly point this out because she is not established as the dominant one as much as in the books. 

The show constantly is more overt with its themes that the books which are far more subtle. 

Yennefer is mad at Geralt and then they have sex:

The Last Wish (Warning this is rather long and I even tried to shorten it without removing content!!):

“You moron!” Yennefer yelled, trying to scratch out his eyes. “You bloody idiot! You stopped me! I nearly had him!”

“You had shit-all!” he shouted back, furious. “I saved your life, you stupid witch!”

She hissed like a furious cat; her palms showered sparks.

Geralt, turning his face away, caught her by both wrists and they rolled among the oysters, seaweed and crushed ice.

“Do you have an invitation?” A portly man with the golden chain of a chamberlain on his chest was looking at them with a haughty expression.

“Screw yourself!” screamed Yennefer, still trying to scratch Geralt's eyes out.

“The wish, Geralt! Hurry up! What do you desire? Immortality? Riches? Fame? Power? Might? Privileges? Hurry, we haven't any time!” He was silent

“Humanity,” she said suddenly, smiling nastily. “I’ve guessed, haven't I? That's what you want; that's what you dream of! Of release, of the freedom to be who you want, not who you have to be. The djinn will fulfill that wish, Geralt. Just say it.”

He stayed silent.

She stood over him in the flickering radiance of the wizard's sphere, in the glow of magic, amidst the flashes of rays restraining the djinn, streaming hair and eyes blazing violet, erect, slender, dark, terrible…

And beautiful.

All of a sudden she leaned over and looked him in the eyes. He caught the scent of lilac and gooseberries.

“You're not saying anything,” she hissed. “So what is it you desire, witcher? What is your most hidden dream? Is it that you don't know or you can't decide? Look for it within yourself, look deeply and carefully because, I swear by the Force, you won't get another chance like this!”

But he suddenly knew the truth. He knew it. He knew what she used to be. What she remembered, what she couldn't forget, what she lived with. Who she really was before she had become a sorceress.

Her cold, penetrating, angry and wise eyes were those of a hunchback. He was horrified. No, not of the truth. He was horrified that she would read his thoughts, find out what he had guessed. That she would never forgive him for it. He deadened that thought within himself, killed it, threw it from his memory forever, without trace, feeling, as he did so, enormous relief. Feeling that—

The ceiling cracked open. The djinn, entangled in the net of the now fading rays, tumbled right on top of them, roaring, and in that roar were triumph and murder lust. Yennefer leapt to meet him. Light beamed from her hands. Very feeble light.

The djinn opened his mouth and stretched his paws toward her.

The witcher suddenly understood what it was he wanted.

And he made his wish.

... (time skip)

Yennefer, slightly flushed, knelt by him, resting her hands on her knees.

“Witcher.” She cleared her throat. “Are you dead?”

“No.” Geralt wiped the dust from his face and hissed.

Slowly, Yennefer touched his wrist and delicately ran her fingers along his palm. “I burnt you—”

“It's nothing. A few blisters—”

“I’m sorry. You know, the djinn's escaped. For good.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Not much.”

“Good. Help me up, please.”

“Wait,” she whispered. “That wish of yours…I heard what you wished for. I was astounded, simply astounded. I’d have expected anything but to…What made you do it, Geralt? Why…Why me?”

“Don't you know?”

She leaned over him, touched him. He felt her hair, smelling of lilac and gooseberries, brush his face and he suddenly knew that he'd never forget that scent, that soft touch, knew that he'd never be able to compare it to any other scent or touch. Yennefer kissed him and he understood that he'd never desire any lips other than hers, so soft and moist, sweet with lipstick. He knew that, from that moment, only she would exist, her neck, shoulders and breasts freed from her black dress, her delicate, cool skin, which couldn't be compared to any other he had ever touched. He gazed into her violet eyes, the most beautiful eyes in the world, eyes which he feared would become…

Everything. He knew.

“Your wish,” she whispered, her lips very near his ear. “I don't know whether such a wish can ever be fulfilled. I don't know whether there's such a Force in Nature that could fulfill such a wish. But if there is, then you've condemned yourself. Condemned yourself to me.”

He interrupted her with a kiss, an embrace, a touch, caresses and then with everything, his whole being, his every thought, his only thought, everything, everything, everything. They broke the silence with sighs and the rustle of clothing strewn on the floor. 

They broke the silence very gently, lazily, and they were considerate and very thorough. They were caring and tender and, although neither quite knew what caring and tenderness were, they succeeded because they very much wanted to. And they were in no hurry whatsoever. The whole world had ceased to exist for a brief moment, but to them, it seemed like a whole eternity.

And then the world started to exist again; but it existed very differently.

“Geralt?”

“Mmm?”

“What now?”

“I don't know.”

“Nor do I. Because, you see, I…I don't know whether it was worth condemning yourself to me. I don't know how—Wait, what are you doing…? I wanted to tell you—”

“Yennefer…Yen.”

“Yen,” she repeated, giving in to him completely. “Nobody's ever called me that. Say it again.”

“Yen.”

“Geralt.”

The Show:

[Yennefer and Geralt portal into the room inside the manor, where they first met.]

Geralt: Yennefer? [He gets to his knees and shifts the hair of her face.] Yennefer. It’s me… Geralt.

Yennefer: [She opens slowly her eyes, shoves Geralt away and rises.] I know who you are. What did you do? You stopped me, didn’t you? I nearly had it.

Geralt: You had shit all. I saved your life.

Yennefer: And I saved yours! You let the djinn escape. Who knows what havoc it’ll wreak now that it has no vessel at all?

Geralt: No more havoc than you. Djinns are only dark creatures when held captive.

Yennefer: How can you be so sure?

Geralt: When did you last feel happy when you felt trapped? And if you were going to portal us to safety, you could’ve taken us out of this shit town!

Yennefer: A fine critique if you could make a portal yourself. And it wasn’t a shit town, it was a fine town till you came along. I had a plan!

Geralt: [chuckles] And that was going swimmingly!

Yennefer: It was. Like a drowning fish. [They kiss and begin to have sex.]

I tried to keep it short here, but the show combined multiple scenes from the book here. I do love the fact that they kept the shit-all line, it’s a favorite. Of course, many people have likely noticed the HUGE difference between the show and books. In the books, Yennefer knows what the wish is and she’s aware Geralt tied their destinies together. 

The show keeps Yennefer in the dark about the wish (likely as a way to manufacture tension on the mountain and have it be dramatic tm) and this just further places her as the not-dominant one in comparison to Geralt. I will also say I love how in the books, Geralt gets a flashback through Yennefer’s past and her trauma. It would have been interesting to see that in the show. 

This final scene suffers so much in the show by being so shortened. We don’t see Yennefer and Geralt have a long conversation about the consequences of the wish or what they might do next, they just exchange a few lines about the Djinn which makes the sex scene seem more sudden than in the books. 

Of course, I will give props to the actors for the sexual tension they are able to generate in just a few lines as they move closer to each other (granted this tension is ruined as soon as the music starts playing and Jaskier shows up, making the sex scene humorous instead of impactful). 

The last lines in the book passage where Yennefer asks Geralt to call her Yen just breaks my damn heart and I would do anything to have seen it in the show. The way the books showcase two very traumatized people finally finding each other is just so lovely and I don’t understand the directing decision to have the tone of the scene switch so quickly in the show from serious and impactful to light. It takes away a lot from the characters. 

In the end, the show has Yennefer in a less dominant position in the books and also has her act younger in a sense. This could be due to the actor’s age difference or Hollywood’s allergy to dominant women but despite this, the actors bring a lot of chemistry to the screen (especially in the first meeting/bath scenes). 

I would have liked the show to give Yennefer more agency in regards to the wish, especially considering that is her character arc in the show, but I did appreciate how many scenes paralleled each other and I believe at the end of the day, the show was able to preserve enough of Yenralt to make it a believable pairing in the show and I can see them improving the dynamic they have already established throughout the first season in season 2. 

#I mean it's sure as fuck better than the bastardization of Yenralt that is the games #shit she isn't even in the first game #and appears in the second one through flashbacks #and also the games imply that the wish changed Yennefer's feelings for Geralt which is NOT TRUE IN THE BOOKS AT ALL #and also just the fact that the games make Geralt the gruff batman type when he is nothing of the sort in the books #and the show plays into so many of these macho-man stereotypes too #and the way the games have Yennefer ENCOURAGE Geralt to take Ciri to Emhyr #just everything about the Empress Ciri ending #and the games not having the ending of Lady of the Lake just ignores and spits in theface of everything the books were trying to show #like the show has its problems but at least there's hope for redemption #the games just has Yennefer and Triss fighting over Geralt for no reason #and the fact that Ciri never calls Yennefer her mother in the games #argh the show better not fuck up Ciri and Yen's relationship #honestly Yennefer in the games never strays beyond her Last Wish characterization and we NEVER see the growth that is seen in the books #which is quite annoying because Yennefer in the Last Wish is still cruel in many ways #she needs to grow and learn #and she does that through raising Ciri #which the games IGNORE #they keep Yennefer as cruel and heartless in many ways #but the whole point of Yennefer is that raising Ciri allowed her to open her heart #of course if Yennefer was kind in the games they couldn't put her against Triss as much #haha if u can't tell I have some...problems with Yen's portrayal in the games... #the witcher #Yennefer #geralt #yenralt #the Witcher netflix #the Witcher books #myposts #meta

[fantasticallyfoolishidea]

So, bath scenes. Amirite?

The Witcher fandom is quite blessed. Over the course one season, the showrunners decided to gift us with not one but two scenes of Henry Cavill, naked in a bathtub, two episodes in a ro-

Wait a minute.

Two back-to-back episodes featuring drawn out bath scenes that go on for 2-3 minutes each. That's a lot of time to dedicate to fanservice when you only have 8 episodes to get your point across. Unless, of course… No. They wouldn't. Or would they?

I re-watched these scenes more times than I care to admit. For science. They’re interesting for numerous of reasons (Henry Cavills’ pecs being only two of them). But you know what’s even more interesting? Some sexy, sexy cinematic and narrative parallels and contrasts.

(Obligatory linebreak for your protection. You thought I went overboard analysing Her Sweet Kiss? This is worse. If you’re on mobile – I apologise. Now’s the time to scroll fast. It’ll take longer than you’re expecting, trust me. I’m sorry.)

Bath in “Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials” Bath in “Bottled Appetites” Please excuse the terrible of the second clip. It’s the only one I could find that had the whole scene in it.

First things first,

the setting

The scene in “Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials” takes place in an inn. The room is dark. Throughout the scene you can hear chatter from the bar. Candles are the only visible light source, although, at the beginning of the scene you can see more light coming in through what’s presumably a window outside the shot. Due to the lighting, the majority of the room has a noticeably blue tint, except for the cabinets on each side of the room where most of the candles are placed. Apart from the cabinets, the bathtub Geralt is sitting in is the only area that’s properly illuminated.

The room itself seems big enough, although we only get to see the bathing area which is separated from the rest of the room by blue curtains, but due the way the scene is shot – frequent close ups of the actors, wider shots frequently partially blocked by the curtains – it appears smaller than it actually is. Geralt stands out against the background due to his skin appearing orange in the candle light; in wider shots he usually appears centred.

In contrast, Jaskier moves from one side of the room to the other a lot and doesn’t remain in either light source for long. Unlike Geralt’s skin, the colour of his clothes matches the background. This is somewhat unusual because in many of his scenes Jaskier and his colourful outfits tend to stick out like a sore thumb – the red outfit in “Rare Species” probably the most visually distracting out of the bunch – but in this scene, the exact opposite happens. Whenever Jaskier’s not the focus of the shot he frequently fades into the background or even gets obstructed by the curtains.

(While I’d love to add visual references for every single point I touch upon, honestly, the amount of editing that’d require is astronomical. Jokes on me though, because it already is. Watching the scenes should give you a better idea of what I’m talking about, though. Also, full disclosure, screenshots and gifs had their brightness an colours altered slightly for better visibility.)

Now, on the other hand, we have the room inside the mayor’s house, which – while also dimly lit by candlelight – appears open and spacious. Due to the candles, the room appears tinged only in colours on the orange/yellow spectrum. No curtains to obstruct parts of the shot, and unlike the inn, this room has got visible windows one of which sits behind Geralt. That window in particular lets in a stream of blue light that, in wider shots, often appears to frame either Geralt alone or both, Geralt and Yennefer. However, the blue light remains behind the characters, neither Geralt nor Yennefer are ever directly illuminated by it.

Why is she going on and on about the lighting you might ask? It’s because there’s basically a whole science to colour theory, colour grading, and the ways they’re used in visual media. It’s one of the reasons why, for example, Guillermo del Toro movies are always such goddamn feasts for the eyes. TV Tropes also has a page dedicated to it, if you wanna get a rough idea of what’s going on here.

Both bath scenes in the Witcher (2019) are gorgeous examples of colour grading and set design. You can tell that a whole lot of thought went into it. “Bottled Appetites” even takes it a step further, carrying the orange/blue colour scheme over into the next scene and directly contrasting the bed frame that’s bathed in amber light with the blue windows it’s framed by.

Fun fact, while colour grading can be used to give colours that certain “pop”, you can also achieve the exact opposite effect. See how washed out and grey Jaskier and his blue clothes appear on the orange bedding in this shot? It becomes even more apparent later on in the scene.

He might as well be one of the pillows for the way his clothes make your eyes just kinda slip over him. Honestly, I wanna marry whoever was in charge of doing colour correction on the Witcher. That person is a fucking artist. I’ll get back to the matter of colours and backgrounds in a minute. For now, let’s talk about

body positioning

Or in other words, yet another reason I’d sell my immortal soul to directors Alex Garcia Lopez and Charlotte Brändström.

One thing the scenes have in common (apart from the copious amounts of eye candy) is that Geralt remains mostly stationary at the centre throughout the scene. Jaskier moves around a lot. He dries his hands behind Geralt, moves in front of him to fiddle with the bath salts, sits down next to Geralt, sets Geralt’s mug down on the cabinet behind him and only stops his continuous back and forth motion when the conversation takes a turn for the serious and he settles down in front of Geralt.

Yennefer, on the other hand, starts off at Geralt’s right hand side, slightly to the back of him. She briefly lies down, stands up, and moves to Geralt’s left while taking off her gown. Same as the other scene, Yennefer settles down as the conversation is about to grow more serious. However, unlike Jaskier, Yennefer is far less restless, once she’s moved to Geralt’s left she settled down and doesn’t get up again.

What’s really interesting about this scene is that throughout the entirety of their interaction, Yennefer and Geralt never look at each other at the same time. They both alternate between staring off into the distance with varying degrees of wistfulness and/or melancholia and turning to look at the other. But their eyes never quite meet, not even when Geralt turns around in surprise after Yennefer says she won’t be taking any payment. The conversation ends with Geralt abruptly getting up and out of the tub and Yennefer turning around to watch him leave (dry up? get dressed? who knows what he’s getting up to in that moment). Notably, when the shot focuses on Yennefer alone in the tub, a significant portion of the room that previously appeared mostly orange suddenly is tinted almost all blue.

However, where eye contact is conspicuously absent in the scene in “Bottled Appetites”, it’s a vital component of the scene in “Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials”. Eye contact is a significant part of Geralt and Jaskiers communication. Mainly because Geralt spends a significant amount time sending glares Jaskier’s way with Jaskier paying him varying amounts of mind, even poking fun at his “scary face” when the opportunity presents itself. Jaskier is all over the place in every sense of the word. His attention is divided between Geralt, the bath, the banquet, etc. before it eventually turns back to Geralt and the whole cycle begins anew. The shift in conversation, from the banquet to Geralt, coincides with a shift in Jaskier’s behaviour. He stops moving around the room and his attention settles on Geralt. He then kneels down and holds Geralt’s gaze until Geralt abruptly switches the subject.

Look at the screencaps above. See how, even in a screencap, the lighting is capable of creating an entire visual narrative all by itself? Yennefer and Geralt are sitting in the water together with their backs to each other in a room full of orange light but their immediate surroundings are tinted blue. Jaskier and Geralt are facing each other directly but despite the orange light surrounding him Jaskier appears shadowed as he kneels in front of the tub while Geralt who is sitting inside the tub glows orange against a blue background.

There’s a metaphor hiding somewhere in that juxtaposition but I can’t quite put my finger on it yet.

edit 12/01/20: I actually got a submission from odense who elaborated on the blocking of the scenes from a theatrical perspective. Go read it for even more meta on the bath scenes.

Anyway, moving on. Next on my list is

the matter of service

What, no more Film Studies for Fandom 101, I hear you ask? Well. Originally, I wanted this part to be about the conversation as a whole but that would’ve gone on for too long (ha! too long, she says like that means anything) so I divided it.

Both scenes deal with the performance of service in one way or another. Jaskier is trying to convince Geralt to act as his bodyguard for a night, while Geralt asked Yennefer to break the djinn’s curse and they’re still settling the matter of payment.

In a way, you could look at both scenes as very, very unusual forms of negotiation. Jaskier may spend a lot of time talking about himself but his actions are almost all focused on Geralt. He douses him with water, “rubbed chamomile onto his lovely bottom” at some point (decide for yourself what you wanna make of that statement), prepares the bath salts for Geralt’s bath, and – also at some point – arranged for Geralt’s clothes to be washed. All throughout the scene, he’s performing a variety of services. He’s taking care of Geralt, whether Geralt likes it or not, and does so like it’s the most natural thing in the world, to the point where it just kinda comes across like more of Jaskier’s usual antics and theatrics.

Geralt may claim he needs no one and doesn’t want anyone needing him but there is some form of reciprocity in their relationship – big things like the shared adventures and the ballads about which made both of them famous in their own right, but then there are the little things like drawing your friend a bath, or watching his back at a banquet so he doesn’t get stabbed by a jealous husband, which Geralt eventually agrees to do despite all of his grumbling and glaring protests.

Which is one of the reasons “And yet... here we are.” is such a brilliant line. Just from this context, you could read it in a number of ways. Jaskier could be calling Geralt out on his bullshit like, e.g. “You might not like it, but yeah, you do need me and I need you.” or he could be asking him to make a decision, e.g. “I know you don’t like it but I really do need your help. What will you do?” or it could be an affirmation, e.g. “I know you didn’t want it but somehow we still ended up here.” etc., etc. And you might have guessed, there’s still more to come regarding this line. Later.

So while Jaskier’s scene is about getting Geralt to perform a service, Yennefer’s scene is about figuring out the cost of the service Geralt asked of her in the previous scenes. Where the first bath scene was about persuasion, this one is about payment. The initial negotiation has already happened, the service been rendered, what’s left to do is figure out the price. And Geralt already offered to pay whatever the price.

Since Geralt seems intent on honouring his promise, that creates a bit of a power imbalance between Yennefer and Geralt at the start of the scene because Yennefer could ask for whatever she wanted, Geralt even brings up that he’s worried about “having agreed to indentured servitude”. (That being said, he does not seem too bothered by current the situation or Yennefer’s company. Quite the opposite, he actually seems quite comfortable talking to her.)

Aside from the payment they haven’t agreed on yet, Geralt’s also got a second promise to make good on since he initially offered Yennefer to “indulge her curiosities” (take that however you will). It’s quite apparent that Geralt is a lot more forthcoming with his thoughts and emotions (actually, his words in general) with Yennefer than he is with Jaskier. In Yennefer’s scene, she and Geralt talk about equal amounts whereas in the other scene Jaskier mostly carries the conversation by himself while Geralt reacts.

However, Jaskier also reaches out where Yennefer keeps to herself. She occasionally teasingly bumps her back against Geralt’s as she’s washing herself but other than that she makes an effort to keep out of sight, even magically turning away a mirror to hide herself, whereas Jaskier touches, quite literally gets all up in Geralt’s “scary face” and just generally repeatedly puts himself in Geralt’s line of sight going so far as to kneel down until they’re at eye level.

Despite the matter of coin coming up repeatedly (mostly in the form of harmless teasing about brothels and prostitution, but also on a more serious way when Geralt accuses her of making a profit off the townspeople), Yennefer eventually decides not to ask Geralt for anything in return for saving Jaskier’s life, determining his “company and conversation payment enough”.

Interestingly, in the scene preceding the bath in “Of Banquets, Bastards and Burials” Jaskier also broaches the topic of coin as he’s setting up to ask Geralt for help. In a sense, Jaskier initially attempts to use that thing about reciprocity I brought up earlier to convince Geralt to do him a favour. He lectures Geralt on his role in making him famous and that he should be making money off their arrangement in an attempt to make the favour he’s about to ask off Geralt seem irrelevant in comparison, like “Look at everything I’ve done for you. Please do this tiny little thing for me.” Obviously, that approach doesn’t work. The (un)holy trinity of “food, women and wine, Geralt”, on the other hand, seems to do the trick. Or maybe it’s the bath and a heart-to-heart. Kind of like Geralt’s company and conversation were payment enough for Yennefer?

While we’re still on the matter of conversation, let’s talk about one of the components that make up part of the emotional core of the scenes. Let’s talk about

the matter of past and future

Geralt has lived a long, long life and its history is written on his body in a web of scars. What struck me is how differently the bath scenes deal with those scars.

With Yennefer, the scars are on full display. She notices and scrutinises them as someone seeing Geralt naked for the first time can be expected to. The scars on his shoulders and back are placed front and centre of the shot several times.

In contrast, with Jaskier, you, as a viewer, barely notice the scars. Most of the time they’re simply not visible to the camera. They’re never in the foreground of the shot and you never even get to see Geralt’s back. The scar on Geralt’s shoulder that Yennefer noticed could easily be mistaken for remnants of dead selkiemore. There’s only one moment that draws attention to the scarred shoulder and that’s when Jaskier pats it as he’s getting up to put away Geralt’s mug of ale.

Again, I feel like there’s a metaphor hiding somewhere in there but what do I know?

Back to the point. While Geralt and Yennefer are talking in the bathtub it immediately becomes obvious that they have a connection. They’ve both had unhappy childhoods, lived long lives and as Yennefer points out Geralt was “created by magic. Our magic.” They have an understanding that quickly let’s you forget that they’re virtual strangers at this point in the Witcher canon.

In the other scene, Jaskier and Geralt have known each other for quite a while already, yet the conversation seems to be restricted to superficial topics at first, mainly Jaskier’s prowess as bard and lover. However, Jaskier unwittingly steers the conversation in a more serious direction when he asks Geralt about retirement, what he wants to do when “all this... monster hunting nonsense” is over and done with.

So far, there’s a pattern in the show that when Jaskier talks to Geralt about serious matters, he starts making plans for the future. After the incident with the elves in Posada he promises to work hard to change Geralt’s reputation. In the infamous scene in “Rare Species” he’s trying to figure out what to do with his own future and offers Geralt to go to the coast with him. Here, in this scene, he’s trying to work out what Geralt wants from his future. Even if Geralt claims to want nothing.

At that point, Jaskier’s already made good on his promise to change the public tune about Geralt. The people in the beginning of the episode are talking about the White Wolf, not the Butcher of Blaviken, which makes for such an interesting parallel when paired with Yennefer’s comment about “Our magic”.

Yennefer’s magic created the Witcher; Jaskier’s song created the White Wolf.

Which, in all frankness, would be a good point to end this post but what’s the point of doing anything if you’re not gonna overdo it? I said the matter of past and future makes up part of the emotional core of the bath scenes. So there must be other parts of that supposed emotional core, right? Of course, there’s still

the matter of want and need

While discussing Geralt’s lack of retirement plan, Jaskier and Geralt keep tossing the word “want” back and forth. Jaskier tries to find out what Geralt wants; Geralt rebuffs him, he wants nothing; Jaskier turns it around on him by saying, well, maybe someone will want you. You could, of course, read that as your run-of-the-mill “just wait, the right person will come along (and that person might just so happen to be me – if you’re wearing shipping goggles)” shtick but the thing is, that’s the kind of reply you usually offer someone who’s bemoaning the fact that they’re single, the exact opposite of what Geralt is doing, and Jaskier strikes me as someone who’s emotionally intelligent enough to know that wouldn’t work on Geralt. I think Jaskier might be very literal when he’s saying “Maybe someone out there will want you.” As in, “even if you want nothing, maybe someone who wants you will come along (and that person might just so happen to be me – again, if you’re wearing shipping goggle).” But Geralt changes strategies and rebuffs him again, he needs no one. And the last thing he wants is someone needing him.

What’s interesting about this bit is the body language. I mentioned Jaskier and Geralt communicating a lot via eye contact. And Geralt is looking at Jaskier quite intently right up until Jaskier kneels down in front of him as he’s saying “Maybe someone out there will want you.” The camera cuts to Geralt and he’s looking off to the side while he says “I want no one.” Then, a pronounced pause follows before he turns to look Jaskier directly in the eye as he finishes, “And the last thing I want is someone needing me.” (I really want to say that this looks so much like he’s warning Jaskier to reconsider whatever he’s building up to say. But alas, that’s just fantasy.) The camera cuts away again and we see that Jaskier’s now looking down behind his clasped hands before looking up and answering “And yet... here we are.” Geralt acknowledges his answer with one of his famed “Hm”s. Then, he immediately changes the subject to the whereabouts of his clothes which Jaskier sent away to be washed.

In the other scene, Geralt and Yennefer breach the topic of “want” and “need” while talking about coin. Geralt claims she’s profiting off the political situation, whereas Yennefer claims she’s working in the interest of the people, “filling a need. Ever heard of it?” Which, yes, Geralt has, literally one episode ago, and he pulls a face that’s simply beyond words. (btw, kudos to Henry Cavill for cramming like five different emotions into one expression.)

Geralt and Jaskier had an entire conversation about how Geralt wants nothing and needs nobody. Jaskier even references that conversation when he yells at Geralt while they’re arguing over the djinn. “You always say you want nothing from life, so how was I supposed to know you wanted three wishes all to yourself!” he screams.

(Also, upon rewatching that scene, I literally just realised that Jaskier was drinking at the beginning of the scene. Combine that with the fact that he repeatedly brings up the Countess de Stael, and flat out states he’s currently heartbroken, and yeah, that explains a lot about his comparatively sour mood and short temper; also, why his speech comes across as much more chaotic than usual. Seriously, compare it to the way he speaks to Geralt after he’s gutted the selkiemore. He talks a lot in both – ok, Jaskier always does – but in the selkiemore scene, or basically any scene that isn’t the djinn scene, his diction is eloquent, artistic, florid; in the djinn scene, it’s all over the place, repetitive, and often bordering on the nonsensical. Frankly, you could probably make a whole post about that scene by itself. I’ll get back to that some other day.)

(Also, am I implying that Jaskier seems bitter over the fact that Geralt apparently keeps telling him he wants nothin from life? ...Yesn’t. Hard to pretend I’m not wearing shipping goggles when I’m literally almost 4000 words deep into a meta post. But remember, nothing but speculation!)

Anyway, and now there’s Yennefer broaching the subject, asking him if he’s ever heard of “filling a need”.

The conversation carries on until Geralt is blindsided by Yennefer telling him that his company and conversation are payment enough. He whirls around but Yennefer isn’t looking at him so he hurriedly gets out of the bath. In the next scene, he emerges with a new set of clothes he doesn’t like, which his companion from the previous scene procured for him. Now why does that feel familiar?

In conclusion...

honestly, I don’t even know where I was going with this originally. This started off as a joke but then things inevitably escalated and now I’m really tired and I wanna go to sleep. (Also, the whole djinn thing is giving me feels now which kinda puts a dampener on the humour in the episode. Jaskier’d already been having a bad day and things just. Keep. Getting. Worse. Ugh, my heart.) But I feel like this post needs a proper conclusion.

I feel like, in the context of these scenes Jaskier and Yennefer could be seen as foils to each other? They’re two of the few people Geralt lets close, very close, actually, since getting naked in front of someone is frequently equated with showing vulnerability to someone. In a lot of ways, Jaskier and Yennefer’s roles work in ways that are the exact opposite of that of the other. Jaskier tries to be seen where Yennefer wants to remain hidden, yet Jaskier gets obscured by the environment while Yennefer is exposed. Jaskier is asking Geralt for a favour, Yennefer did Geralt a favour; Jaskier insists on taking care of Geralt where Yennefer gives him space. Yennefer sees Geralt’s past, Jaskier his future. Jaskier touches the scar but doesn’t look, Yennefer looks but doesn’t touch. But both find a way to scratch at the emotional walls that Geralt’s put up and both times Geralt reacts by immediately trying to escape the situation. Both times, he ends up wearing clothes he doesn’t like in the following scene.

Speaking about nudity and emotional vulnerability, maybe that’s kind of part of the conclusion as well? Sorta? Especially, since Geralt seems to start looking for his clothes or for a way out of the tub the moment someone gets too close. Furthermore, afterwards, he never seems comfortable in the clothes he’s been given, which you could read as a metaphor of sorts, I guess? Like something inside Geralt getting knocked loose in the conversation with his companion and Geralt consequently having to arrange himself with an uncomfortable truth in the aftermath? Does that make sense? Have we finally reached the point where I’m getting too cerebral? Or did we sail past that point like 4000 words ago? God, my brain hurts.

#the witcher #the witcher netflix #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #geralt x yennefer #gerlion #fantastically foolish literary analysis #this might take the crown as dumbest idea i ever saw through #i have written college essays shorter than this #how do people 'enjoy' things casually? #i mean #if you haven't written at least half a thesis' worth of meta about a show #can you honestly say you've watched it? #somebody commented 'op your galaxy brain' on that post about Her Sweet Kiss #i've been trying to see how much further i can push it ever since #this is it #this is as far as my brain'll take me #now it's fried #just waiting to see how long it'll take for someone to go #'welp' #'looks like she's finally gone off her rocker' #'nothing we can do now' #god i miss livejournal #tumblr really isn't cut out for posts of this length #this might be the longest post i've ever written #i just realised that the fact that i can honestly say 'might be' is kind of concerning

[itsclydebitches]

I adore talking about this with you, it's so cool to be able to agree, everything I've read is just excusing yen lmao.

And with "geralt would rather do and say things Yen wants to avoid pissing her off" LIKE YEAHH I guess I annoyed yen with my answers and she teleported Geralt out of the tower thing, and then threatened to do it again like??? Like he pissed her off so she has fuck all care about him, was over water thank god but like girl??? omg and her refusing to tell the wticher bros what she was planning on doing to Uma, like I get that they would be hesistent but I mean it's cause it's cruel and painful and they have that trauma around that. She just expects everyone to do what she asks when she asks no questions. (Lambert's "I'm not geralt" when he and Yen are kinda arguring, bb red flags)

I just assumed she didn't believe him cause if she did whats her excuse for behaving how she is lmao??? Like you believe he has amnesia and you still blame HIM over the person who maniplated him KAY.

And goodddd that fucking scene when Triss and Yen see Ciri in Kaer Morhen is genuinely the worst, Triss and Yen see their sis/daughter (not gonna get into how weird I find it that Triss considers Ciri her sister and Geralt is Ciris father and she still wants to fuck him, uncomfy) for the first time in forever, she's alive and well and while Triss is hugging Ciri, Yen kisses Geralt and Triss throws a glare at her. I hated that scene so damn much, it's stupid and shouldn't have been there. (aso I get emotions and all but Yen kissing Geralt is so bitchy, idk even full of gratitude and emotion I wouldn't kiss the man who just dumped me lol, especially not in front of a situation like Triss)

I'm still mad about the women, I really wanted to like them fuck meeee

YOU GOT TO THE PART. Oh thank god, anon, I've wanted to talk about this since we started these conversations lol

Okay, let's set the scene, shall we? You arrive to find that, with our playthroughs anyway, your ex has barged into your home. I say "barged in" because although we (Geralt) know that Yen's help is necessary and she'll be tagging along, the other witchers living there are given no prior warning and, according to Vesemir, Yen teleported in without so much as a "Hello." She then immediately starts ordering everyone around like her servants, failing to explain the situation beyond there being a curse that they have to help with. No, this isn't negotiable. She (still being an ex) takes your old room for herself, which just happens to be the biggest in the keep, and proceeds to toss a bed out the window. It's only later that Vesemir recalls that Triss used to use it, so prior to that everyone apparently just accepted that Yen was destroying their stuff for no understandable reason. Classic Yen. You go upstairs to find her cursing a blue streak at her failed experiment and when you try to lighten the mood, she snaps at you. If you're of the opinion that Yen's every order must be obeyed, this is when you're supposed to drop the conversation entirely, because she said to. Except, funnily enough, you'd like to know why she's up here being The Worst Guest Ever and destroying your property. She tries to justify this by saying that destroying a bed is better than how she could be dealing with her anger over Triss. Be grateful and all that. Except, it's not really about Triss, is it? The line is "You shagged my friend. For upwards of a year. I don't know what your witcher's code says on the matter, but ordinary folk would consider it obscene, base, vile." The blame is not on the woman who knowingly manipulated Geralt into having sex with her while he was vulnerable, it's on Geralt himself! He is the "obscene, base, vile" person for... daring to have amnesia? And when you point that out - "Yen... told you already. I lost my memory" - she yells that she's "lost [her] patience" and teleports you into a lake! This is, apparently, how she really wants to deal with her anger. Not by destroying beds, but by attacking you for things outside of your control. And I do consider it an attack. Yen is meant to be insanely powerful, she is leveraging her magic as a weapon here, particularly when Geralt has spent the whole game commenting on how much he hates portals. Yen knows this. Not just because he says so in her presence, but because she frequently reads his mind, something else he's expressed discomfort with. She's not just demonstrating her power (controlling) and sending him away when he makes a point she doesn't want to acknowledge (immature), she chooses the one thing she knows makes Geralt uncomfortable, perhaps even scared. Then when you've swum your way back to shore and returned to, despite all this, begin her list of chores, she makes a dry comment about how next time she just might drop you high enough for the fall to be fatal. With the next time implied to be, you know, the next time you disagree with her. The next time you dare to do anything other than agree with her every belief and jump at her every command.

The fandom interpretation of all this: "Lol Geralt getting yeeted is so funny. And their banter is just 😍"

Me:

You mentioned red flags and yeah like that ENTIRE SCENE is a crimson banner for me. I mean, by all means, love the fictional ships that are super messed up (I often do), but it astounds me how many fans honestly think this is just a cute interaction with absolutely no problems attached. Nothing to question here, folks. I've mentioned before, but last I discussed this in depth the asker wanted to know if I'd been an asshole to Yen and... that's it. That's the perspective. Any disagreement with her, any pushback, anything that's not complete, blind obedience is something she will not permit AND something most fans take as a given. If you're not doing what Yen tells you to, you're automatically the asshole, and if you're the asshole, you automatically deserve any punishment she chooses to dish out.

Comic spoilers coming up if you want to skip, but this is made abundantly clear in "Curse of Crows." Yen and Geralt are at their best in the moment below, enjoying one another's company on a nice day. Yen asks if Geralt wants to swim and he says nah, he'd rather watch her. She appears to like that idea and, indeed, swims naked while Geralt admires from the shore.

Actually cute right? I really liked this moment! They're cuddled up together and exchanging smiles. It's a rare moment of peace where I can believe that they truly care for one another, outside of passionate sex and not wanting the other dead. Finally, something beyond that incredibly low bar.

...except Yen starts flirting with a young man who shows up, invites him to travel with them, all while refusing to explain why she's interested in his company. The sudden third wheel is clearly bothering Geralt, but Yen continues to ignore his questioning. The answer she finally gives later that night?

She did it purely to mess with Geralt! It's his "just desserts" for "refusing to swim with [her]." She is "not one to be refused - I thought you needed reminding" by giving him "a flick on the nose." When I say that Yen treats Geralt like a dog I mean she literally treats him like a dog. He's a servant who must jump at her every command and if he doesn't, he'll punished for disobedience. He might not even know why he's being punished for a long stretch because Yen enjoys making him think she's a normal person capable of accepting that he doesn't feel like swimming right now - insert the Kaer Morhen scene where she wants to go have sex upstairs, but Geralt wants to catch up with the brothers he hasn't seen in an age here - only to reveal that actually she's made their formerly nice outing uncomfortable because he needs to be put in his place. All of which is followed by, "So... willing to join me now?" The message is very clear! Geralt had better get his ass in that tub unless he wants to be punished some more. Whether he wants a bath right now or not is inconsequential.

This is also the run where she scares the women Geralt was with, despite them being separated right now. Why? "I could."

Claims that Geralt is allowed to return to his companions (who he actually waves away) only for him to realize she's cast a spell to burn him with the water. Yen loves pretending she's okay with things only to punish Geralt for them later - sometimes with physical punishments. And what would have happened if the women had actually joined him again? Do witchers weather hot water better than the average courtesan? Who knows, but Yen clearly doesn't care who might get hurt.

Just like her time in Skellige and at Kaer Morhen, she refuses to explain what's going on. She just expects people to obey her, so-called loved ones included. Geralt was to get her cider, and arrive before her bath went cold, not question what they're doing on this dangerous hunt. He's a servant.

And my favorite, petty moment: transforming her awful inn food into a lavish meal without offering to do the same for either Geralt or Ciri.

"But, Clyde, that's just the comics. They're not really canon." Nah, questions of canon aside, this is 100% Yen's characterization. She's prideful. Immature. Beyond controlling. And punishes anyone who dares to tell her "No." Fans are always pointing out that she's meant to be horrible, she could have been a villain in another life, like any of that explains why I'm supposed to root for this relationship or enjoy her existence outside of being a complex character. Yen is interesting, but she's interesting in a "I can't wait to see her get her own just desserts" way. Not "Wooo now I get to watch this story ignore her behavior again to push a True Love narrative."

She punished Geralt frequently during their first meeting, she punishes him whenever they get together, and, I think, she punished him during the reunion with Ciri. Given our playthroughs, do we really think that after breaking up with her and all this fury over Triss - an anger so deep she destroyed the bed and attacked Geralt - she's just overcome with such joy that she forgets they're not together anymore and forgets the anger she's been nurturing for years? Yen doesn't forget. She's staring at Ciri during that moment, right where Triss is currently running towards them, and then after a considering look at Geralt pulls him in for that kiss. That was calculated. She did that to make a claim she no longer had. To punish them both: make Triss uncomfortable by playing at the "perfect" family reunion; make Geralt uncomfortable by kissing him when she knows he doesn't feel the same way. But of course, the popular reading is that she just loves him so much she couldn't help herself. Riiight.

It's just all SO BAD. (Including, as you say, the ickiness of having Triss lusting after Geralt and referring to Ciri as "little sis.") I love a lot of the women in Witcher - Cerys is a fave, Ciri, Saskia, Philippa, Keira, etc. - but the two I'm supposedly meant to fall in love with are just the worst lol.

Basically:

Half the fandom: TEAM TRISS 🤬

The other half: TEAM YEN🤬

Me: TEAM REGIS 😭

#witcher #mymetas #long post

[of-wrens-and-whirlwinds-blog]

It Just Slipped Out

Commission for the fantastic @turtletotem !!! A ‘The Witcher’ fic because I’ve opened topics to a few of my fandoms. I hope you like it, Aunt Turtle! I’ll link the commission info post when I have it finished! Update: Commission info here!

CW: canon typical depictions of injury and death

~

Jaskier is still in shock.

It’s a good thing he is, though. If he weren’t, his hands would be shaking too much to hold a needle and thread, and he wouldn’t be able to look at those horrendous gashes on Geralt’s stomach. There’s so much blood. No organs poking out, but the blood is still flowing, matting down the material of his shirt, soaking into the earth as it trickles down his side. He’s breathing, barely, and Jaskier is too, breaths shallow through the panic squeezing his chest and throat, but he’s going to crack any minute now.

The last stitch is done. Jask rinses the area, pats it dry, and applies the wool pads wrapped in linen that Geralt carries for big wounds.

Geralt’s fingers twitch. “Jaskier,” he gasps.

Jaskier almost breaks. Instead he uses that sticky stuff the last healer gave them to glue down the edges of pad and grabs the bandages—there’s not enough. Not nearly enough.

Jaskier chokes on a whimper, tears filling his eyes and rolling down his cheeks.

“Jaskier.”

“Stop talking,” he snaps, his voice unsteady and almost lost in a sob. “Just… lay still and don’t talk. It’ll be okay. I’ll… I’ll see if there’s any potions left.”

Geralt’s fingertips finally touch Jaskier’s leg. He automatically reaches down and grabs Geralt’s hand. It’s so cold. No, don’t think about it.

“Left saddlebag,” Geralt mutters, and it sounds like it’s getting harder for him to breathe.

Jaskier lifts Geralt’s hand and kisses it, then puts it down and staggers upright to lurch to the indicated saddlebag. There—there, that potion Geralt drinks after a particularly draining fight. Or was it this other one? They’re both red, but he can’t remember the different shades—

A weak cough behind him. He puts the second bottle back and hurries back, falling to his knees and gently lifting Geralt’s head to help him drink the potion. The effects are immediate but weak; his eyes barely change, and the veins barely pulse dark. Jaskier chokes again—he has to be strong. He has to keep Geralt alive. The healer still isn’t here—not surprising. But he has to hope.

Geralt’s breathing falters.

“No,” Jaskier chokes out, grabbing his hand again, “No, Geralt, don’t, don’t die, you can’t die, I won’t let you, I, I order you to stay alive, alright, don’t die, I love you so much, I need you to stay alive, alright?” He’s babbling at this point, but he’s scared and angry and there’s so much guilt in him he’s going to break apart. “Please, please, I’ll fucking guilt you into staying awake, alright, don’t, don’t die, I need you, I need you so much, I love you—”

Geralt’s eyes close.

“NO!” Jaskier yells, and he can’t even recognize his own voice, cracked and terrified. “Geralt, please!”

“Move it, boy,” someone snaps, and pushes him sideways, making him fall. He doesn’t let go, curling up tight with Geralt’s limp hand still in his, face pressed into his shoulder, finally breaking and crying as his heart crumbles. No… no…

Geralt’s breathing stops. Then suddenly he inhales sharply, a big breath, and Jaskier’s head pops up, watching in stunned awe as he coughs and starts gulping air. Someone is muttering to the side, and there’s a green glow, and someone on Geralt’s other side is holding him down as he twitches and jerks. His hand is warming. His face isn’t so gaunt and translucent. And his eyes are open.

Jaskier cries harder, in relief, and clings tightly. Even when the healer finishes, Jaskier stays curled on the ground, Geralt’s hand in his, laughing hysterically as he cries.

Alive. Alive. For just a little bit longer, Geralt is alive.

~

Jaskier does everything he can to make sure Geralt has the care he needs. Paying the healer more than usual is just par for the course; she brought him back from death, after all. Geralt protests that he doesn’t need to be coddled but Jaskier shushes him sharply and holds his hand tightly as the healer changes his bandages. The site needs to be kept clean; Jaskier helps, and in fact, once Geralt is no longer hazy and slightly delirious, Jaskier is the one who sponge-bathes him, because the healer’s apprentice is only so comfortable with a Witcher. Geralt hates being at anyone’s mercy, but he does what Jaskier tells him to with minimal grumbling.

When Jaskier isn’t “coddling” and hovering at the edges while the healer and her apprentice work, he’s doing odd-jobs around the village. He borrowed one of Geralt’s shirts to save his own clothes, and it apparently attracts more people to see him in a plain shirt with his sleeves rolled up, covered in mud or worse, exhausted but doing anything asked of him as long as he’s paid in some way and can take the payment back to the healer. There’s no inn, tavern, or court here; the festival season is long over. His music has no home.

So he chops wood, and clears fields, and forks hay out of lofts down to the stables, and helps in gardens. And every evening he’s back at the healers, helping with Geralt.

“Too stubborn to die,” Jaskier whispers, fairly often, usually accompanied by a quick squeeze of Geralt’s hand.

Geralt never replies to that. Nor does he say anything about Jaskier wearing his clothes.

It takes two weeks for the healer to proclaim Geralt healed enough to walk. But he must not over-exert himself, and he must not walk too long without rest, and he must not do any strenuous activities—like fighting monsters.

“How the fuck am I supposed to do that?!” Geralt snaps, scowling. “I have to hunt!”

“Fine, just don’t cry when you tear your stitches and break open the wounds and end up dying again,” Jaskier sneers. “I can earn food and shelter, for both of us. You can’t hunt if you don’t heal and that is a fact.”

Geralt glares at him, but finally mutters an acceptance of those terms.

They leave with a little money, and most payment for killing the monster in the form of food or herbs Geralt uses in potions. There’s even a jar of pickled eggs and a little bag of sunflower seeds. Sunflower seeds are Geralt’s favorite snack, and Jaskier is quite proud that he managed to get a farmwife to part with them after clearing her garden of gnomes.

He sees Geralt’s hand dipping into the seeds often that first day out, and has to turn his head to hide his smile.

They rest often. Jaskier knows Geralt by now; when he starts to be in further pain, Jaskier announces that his feet hurt abominably and he shall perish if they take one step further. This gives Geralt an excuse to grumble about delicate bards as well as sit.

They’re three days out, and Jaskier is checking Geralt’s bandages (not yet time to change them) when Geralt asks quietly, “Did you mean it?”

“Mean what?” Jaskier asks as he lets Geralt’s shirt drop and smooths it down automatically.

“When you said… while you were telling me not to die. You said...” Geralt is looking at him with the strangest expression. Anxious, almost.

Jaskier stares at him blankly. He barely remembers what he said. Don’t die… I need you… I love—

Oh.

Jaskier’s face turns beet-red and he looks down at his hands in his lap. “Well, I,” he says, and his voice is weak. “I did. But I understand if you don’t… reciprocate, or are uncomfortable, I know you don’t like it when people get attached, if you’d like me to leave at the next town I will, but—I would like to stay with you.” That last part is quiet and scared, and he doesn’t dare look up.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Geralt replies softly.

Jaskier head snaps up. Geralt looks uncomfortable, but also there’s an honesty, an embarrassment, clear on his face. His eyes are so beautiful in the dark. “I want you to stay,” Geralt says.

And honestly that’s the most loving thing Geralt has ever said to Jaskier, and it makes him breathless.

He scoots closer on his knees and hugs Geralt, burying his face in Geralt’s shoulder. “Then I will stay,” he whispers.

Geralt hugs back, and it feels like everything is going to be alright, as long as they have each other.

#The Witcher #Geraskier #Geralt of Rivia #Jaskier #commissions open

[thearcher18]

so....erm i wrote my first witcher fic. not my best work but i literally wrote this in one hour and i just wanted to.

title: talk me down

fandom: the witcher

relationship: geralt of rivia & jaskier, geralt/jaskier

words: 1k

tags: hurt/comfort, pre-slash

also on ao3

They had been traveling for six days when the farmer sought them out. There was a pack of werewolves terrorizing the village and had already killed several people. The village, which was in middle of nowhere, was small, consisting of not more than a hundred people. So it was stupid of the farmer to not have mention a seventeen year old girl looking to avenge her family.

After Geralt had left Jaskier, who had been complaining as usual —seriously, Geralt, you should know there is no point in telling me to stay— and had only given up when Geralt mentioned that they didn't exactly had enough coins for a decent meal tonight. Jaskier had given a reluctant nod —I forgot. of course you deserve a good meal after saving the day— he'd said.

The girl, Lorelei, had been excellent at hiding. Apparently, she started following him right after he left the inn. The forest, in which the werewolves lived was quite deep, the smell of blood was fresh. Geralt could sense that the wolves were close and they knew he was here so he sheaths his sword— the potion he'd drank earlier heightened his senses, his eyes sharp and blood pounding in his ears. Adrenaline flowing rapidly in his veins.

Suddenly, just behind him, he heard the rustling of leaves; a brief smell of meadows and horses, carefully concealed so the witcher in his normal form wouldn't have sense it— a human.

Geralt tried to get her to leave. That it was dangerous but she was determined and vengeful and the fire in her eyes reminded him so much of Renfri that he felt his breath stutter but Geralt didn't have enough time to convince her when suddenly the werewolves revealed themselves— big and vicious creatures. One was an alpha and the other three were betas, all powerful. Geralt had dealt with bigger packs before but today he had to somehow protect the girl.

The werewolves attacked, either side of him— snarling and hungry for his blood. All four of them pounced on him at the same time. He killed the first beta in just two minutes; that turned the other three werewolves more vicious and angry. The alpha aimed for his neck but Geralt quickly moved but his claws dug in his sides. Geralt roared and managed to severe another beta's head.

He was too late in noticing Lorelei running towards the only beta left and before he could even try to fend off the alpha, the beta tackled her to the ground and riped her throat out.

“No!” Geralt roared but it had been too late. He severed the alpha's head and succeeded in cutting the beta in half with vicious slash.

But it didn't matter now.

Geralt moved towards the girl's body but she was already dead— eyes wide, pupils dilated. “Shit.” Guilt was heavy on his soul.

He pulled out a scarf from his belt— the scarf Jaskier had gifted him. He tried to picture his beaming smile, his bright eyes. But he didn't deserve him, did he? He was a monster. Geralt laid the scarf on her torn neck, the blood instantly soaking it.

You killed Renfri. And you didn't save the girl. Both their blood is on your hands. You are a monster. Everyone had always been right about you.

The potion had already worn off; making him weak in the knees and the injuries he sustained were long forgotten as he picked the girl up and made his way towards the village. Geralt doesn't know how he had reached it— only one thought running through his head;

You couldn't save her.

Thankfully, the farmer was just there as he laid the girl's body down. “I—” he began but the farmer cut him off with a shake of his head.

“Since her family was eaten by those bloody wolves, she had been a lost cause.” The farmer rambled on how they all had seen it coming but Geralt didn't listen— instead, he continues walking towards the inn.

Walking away from the sour stench of the girl's blood.

“Witcher! Your coin!” The farmer yells but Geralt didn't deserve that anymore.

“Keep it.” Geralt says, gruffly and he doesn't know how says it but he does and pretends that his hands aren't trembling.

Thankfully, the inn wasn't far and the bard was standing there in front, probably about to complain but as soon as their eyes met, Jaskier stops. Geralt doesn't know what he looks like. But whatever Jaskier sees is enough to make him understand. He is grateful but what would the bard do when he finally knows that he couldn't save the girl? That he had been too slow, too weak.

Jaskier doesn't ask anything. Doesn't speak at all. He just leads Geralt in the inn towards their room where he's already had a hot bath set up.

Geralt realizes that his body isn't responding to his mind. He's almost motionless— a puppet in Jaskier's hands as he helps him out of the armour and pulls him towards the tub. There are firm, lute calloused hands cleaning him up, cleaning his wounds— strong gentle fingers massaging his scalp but Geralt refuses to relax.

Geralt knows he hadn't felt like this since Renfri, and he knows that circumstances were different, that he had killed Renfri but he hadn't killed Lorelei— but he couldn't save her. And it was almost the same thing.

Jaskier is pulling him up and helping him get in his clothes and suddenly he wants Jaskier to stay away from him. He wants him to leave and never come back because how long is it going to be when it's Jaskier that he couldn't save? His sweet, lovely, wonderful Jaskier. And even the thought of it makes him sick and he jerks back from Jaskier's gentle hands.

“What—”

Geralt ignores the hurt look in Jaskier's cornflower blue eyes— regret builds inside him but he keeps his resolve.

“You should leave.” Geralt snarls, hoping he doesn't have to stand from where he's seated at the edge of their bed— and Jaskier's eyes widen slightly but he doesn't move, damnit.

“Geralt, what—”

“You don't understand! I couldn't save her!”

Jaskier's eyes soften but he still doesn't budge, still standing in front of him. “I know.”

And Geralt wants to yell, wants to roar that why haven't you left!, wants him to stop looking at him with kindness and wonder as if he's some kind of a hero— because he isn't. He's a monster, the Butcher of Blaviken—

Suddenly his vicious thoughts are cut off by firm, gentle hands that cup his face. “Geralt, it wasn't your fault.”

Geralt tries to shake off his hands, wants to stop looking at his bright blue eyes. But Jaskier's hands don't move. “I could have stopped her before—”

“No, you didn't know, darling. She made a choice. I saw her earlier, she had that wild look in her eyes and she wouldn't have stopped.” Jaskier rest his forehead against his and says firmly, “It wasn't your fault.”

And there is something in Geralt that just breaks. Witcher don't cry, but he is shaking and Jaskier's there, pulling him in— and Geralt buries his face in Jaskier's chest.

He knows that this probably won't be the end of this conversation. That he is going to get awful nightmares just like has of Renfri's. That the guilt isn't just going to fade away. That he would sometimes look at his hands and find them red with blood— with Renfri and Lorelei's blood.

But he also knows that Jaskier will be there for all of it. Wrapping him in his arms and making Geralt feel the most safe and secure he's ever felt in his life. His bright laughter, his careful understanding, his beautiful singing will probably get him out of any dark corner his mind will lead him to.

And then maybe, maybe he would understand that some things just weren't his fault.

#the witcher #the witcher fic #the witcher fic rec #Geralt of rivia #jaskier #dandelion #geraskier #geraskier fic #geraskier fic rec #hurt/comfort #pre slash

[fanmoose12]

levihan + the 104th cadet kiddos/snk veteran in a the witcher au?? i love these fandoms sm no matter how chaotic it has been XD

of course, levi is grumpy, constantly grunting witcher with a heart of gold. also, for the sake of this au, let's pretend that there are a lot more witchers than we've seen in kaer morhen. erwin, mike and nanaba are witchers too (yes, in this au women can become witchers too, shhh) and they've just recently recruited a couple of new students. mike is responsible for training sasha, connie and jean, nanaba takes care of ymir and historia, and levi has to watch over armin and mikasa.

for a while, they train in kaer morhen, preparing for their transformation. once the kids actually become the witchers, nanaba, mike and levi take their students on their first hunt.

during his first hunt with mikasa and armin, levi has to deal with a werewolf. levi doesn't interfere too much, he simply watches armin and mikasa deal with the curse on their own, ready to step in, if it gets too dangerous. in the end, his help wasn't required, mikasa and armin successfully lift the curse and the vicious werewolf turns out to be an awkward teenager named eren. levi wants to bring him to the closest town and leave him there, but eren begs levi to let him continue traveling with them, because he doesn't have a family and his home was destroyed. levi really wants to say no, but then he makes the mistake of looking at mikasa and armin, and he sees two pair of eyes, staring pleadingly at him, and levi's like "tch, fine". they start travelling together and levi even tries to teach eren some basics of swordfighting, but only when kid isn't too annoying.

one day, they make a stop at oxenfurt and after so many days and nights on the road, kids ask to go to the tavern, where they could eat warm food and sleep in a comfortable bed. levi, who dreamed about a bath for a very long time now, easily agrees.

in the evening, while they're having dinner, they watch a performance by a very talented and very handsome bard. levi can't quite tear his eyes away and kids giggle, watching him (levi is too distracted to reprimand them). when it gets too late, levi forces eren, mikasa and armin to retreat to their room, then comes back to have a cup of tea. and while he's at it, he notices some commotion at one of the tables, decides to check it out and finds the same bard from earlier, surrounded by angry men. levi interferes (not because he wants to impress the pretty bard. he's just very annoyed by all the noise the group makes). he approaches, asks what's the problem and receives an answer that the bard was cheating during gwent. the bard in question smiles and tries to deny it, but it only makes the men angrier. the situation becomes quite heated and levi uses his witcher scary stare to get rid of the men. the bard beams. she tells that her name is hange and asks levi to meet her tomorrow at oxenfurt academy before she's ushered away by her friend

naturally, levi isn't going to meet with weird bard, who apparently likes to scam people for money. but when next morning, armin announces that he wants to go sightseeing, levi tags along. and when they head to the grand building of oxenfurt academy, levi doesn't object as well. after all, it's not like he's going to just stumble across the bard from yesterday, the building is huge. armin asks for a tour around academy, and when they enter the library, they meet none other than hange zoe - a brilliant professor of alchemy and renowned bard. levi's jaw drops, he thought hange was just a wasted student, not a fucking genius.

the moment hange sees levi, her eyes light up. "so i wasn't hallucinating yesterday! you're a witcher!" and then she looks at armin and mikasa and gasps because??? there are three witchers??? she's been looking for one for ages! and now she stumbles upon three of them?? and then she finds out that eren was a werewolf and hange nearly faints from excitement. she grabs levi's hands and begs him to let her see their laboratory at kaer morhen, and levi's like "..... no. you're a weirdo i've met just yesterday, i'm not going to share with you the biggest secret of witchers." and hange pouts a little, but she was kinda anticipating this kind of answer, she knows just how secretive witchers are. she then asks levi to let her experiment on him, to which levi, surprisingly, answers with no. hange asks if she could experiment on kids, and receives an even stricter no from levi.

not ready to give up just yet, she wanted to research witchers for so long, hange announces that she's going to travel with them. levi wants to protest, but his words are muffled by a happy cheer from his teenagers. another adult companion??? one that actually talks, not just grunts or swears? they're utterly delighted and levi doesn't have the heart to refuse after that.

and that's how the great witcher levi starts travelling not only with three annoying teenagers but with an extremely annoying bard :)

#thank you for indulging me anon!!!! #i adore witcher universe

[archies-litterbox]

You keep mentioning the witcher, what’s it about? Is it worth the disappointments you’ve mentioned in tags?

:D oh you just asked my favorite question

okay... it's a MUCH more mature/graphic show than tales of arcadia. The show is TV-MA instead of TV-Y7 because of nudity/language/violence, so I'm putting it under a cut with the important tags over it.

I don't recommend it if you're on the younger side of this fandom. In fact, if you're under 16, do not click under the cut.

That being said, I run another sideblog about it @toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account so I'm VERY glad I get this ask to talk about one of my other favorite shows!

[TW: Violence, swearing, mention of nudity (but only shirtlessness in the gif used), discussion of abuse/child abuse, death, ableism, sterilization, genocide]

Okay so:

There's this guy named Geralt of Rivia

(In s2 his armor is gonna have abs plated on it but we won't speak of that)

He's a Witcher

He got mutated as a kid because mages wanted him to be stronger than humans in order to hunt monsters

(...sorta like s3 jim ig)

His mutations turned his hair white and his eyes yellow (and also the process to be mutated into a Witcher is BRUTAL and only 3/10 boys taken to Witcher schools survive them)

His mom left him on a roadside to be taken to one of the schools when he was a little boy :( #mommyissues

He's very grumpy >:/

In s1 alot of his dialogue is either "hmm" or "fuck"

He's scared of needing anyone because he doesn't want to get hurt/hurt them so he's kind of a brooding loner

He does talk to his horse though

Her name is Roach. He loves Roach. You love Roach. We all love Roach.

And Roach loves him too :)

Much of the fandom has branded him a horse girl for it (and for good reason)

He's not actually from Rivia!

He almost named himself Geralt Roger Eric du Haute Bellegarde (but his mentor smacked him upside the head and told him it sounded pretentious) and... *John Mulaney voice* none of that matters, but it's important to me that you know that

He's very grumpy but when he does smile it's very precious.

In half the episodes of s1 he's tagged along by this cutie of a bard!

His name is Jaskier. It means buttercup!

Isn't he cute?

He's so cute :)

In the book series the show is based off of, book!geralt is MUCH NICER to his bard (Dandelion in the English translation of the books) but in the show he's like... this

Think... Shrek and Donkey

They're apparently friends for 22 years but the show never ages Jaskier in s1

(Cue MANY different immortal!jaskier headcanons)

(Also alot of Witcher fans like me got reminded of jaskier when Wizards showed us moppet!douxie with his lute)

It's VERY implied that jaskier is in unrequited love with geralt :( sad

One time Geralt says his singing is "like ordering a pie and finding it has no filling" and jaskier responds like >:0

also canonically Jaskier gives Geralt a bath before a court event and put chamomile oil on his "lovely bottom"

(yes that's what jaskier says)

And then there's a very forlorn bit of dialogue where Geralt is sitting in his tub getting all cleaned up and he's like "I need no one... and the last thing I want is someone needing me."

And Jaskier softly whispers "And yet... here we are."

Yeah

All this yearning happens while geralt is sitting in a tub without a scrap of clothing on him and that's a thing

Their friendship flips on a dime honestly one moment Geralt looks at Jaskier with puppy dog eyes and the next he's punching him in the gut. It's fun.

Jaskier isn't allowed to touch Roach

S1 basically centers around three storylines (which, full disclosure, is not handled very well at all)

It's centered around Geralt's storyline, as well as those of two other main characters: Yennefer and Ciri!

This is Yennefer of Vengerberg

(Aka Yenny Boo of My Heart <3)

She's a sorceress

She starts out as a very poorly treated farm girl with a hunched back and skewed jaw (it gets magically "fixed" which can be seen as playing into the "Magical Disability Cure" trope ://)

The Rectoress of this sorceress school called Aretuza senses that she can use magic (yen portals there on accident once to escape some bullies) and comes to her stepfather's farm to collect her

Her stepfather gives the Rectoress, Tissaia de Vries, four marks for her (which is barely anything, so he considered her worthless)

Yennefer is trained to hone her magic and she does get to ascend from her class (which is sort of like graduating except that tissaia would have turned her into an eel if she didn't)

The day comes where the sorceresses of aretuza get to choose which kingdom's court to join and Yennefer wants to go to aedirn but her lover betrays her *gasp* and tells this nasty wizard named Stregobor that she's quarter-elf

(If I get into how bad Stregobor is we'll be here forever so... think Merlin but Worse. Also he doesn't have the One (1) Redeeming Factor of raising Douxie and is a creep. Ew.)

Stregobor manipulates other mages into overriding yennefers own choice and sending her to Nilfgaard instead

And Nilfgaard is not good to it's mages so she was like um... no

Sorceresses are given a Transformation before they become court mages and yennefer uses hers to become more powerful. it fixes her jaw/back (even though it's not actually necessary to make her powerful.)

(This is where "Magical Disability Cure" trope comes in for some fans.)

She woos the king of aedirn into taking her into his court after all

(But one of her schoolmates gets sent in her place, Fringilla Vigo, and she ends up an Intimidating Villain. Her actress calls her Fringy for short. :) )

But it comes at the cost of her fertility - she's given an irreversible hysterectomy.

(Alot of misguided fans are like "oh it was her choice to give it up she shouldn't be acting like she was robbed" but it was either that or go to a court where she knew she'd be treated horribly so... shut up)

(Also the books are more clear in the fact that tissaia makes sterilization mandatory for aretuza students anyway so... shut up 2: electric boogaloo)

Her storyline in s1 is largely centered around trying to regain her fertility by means of 1.) a djinn 2.) dragon hearts

Also Geralt's eventually in love with her

(And so am I <3)

Her arc actually isn't about her thinking herself "monstrous" for being infertile *cough* black widow *cough* fuck you joss whedon *cough* but about her fighting tooth and nail to regain some of the autonomy taken from her, especially about her *choice* to have a child

Speaking of children, here's Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon... aka Ciri

She's a princess but her kingdom gets destroyed by Nilfgaard in s1, leaving her all alone ( :( ) and she spends the whole season running around the woods trying to find Geralt

Why?

The Law of Surprise

(...sigh)

(This is gonna be confusing no matter how good I explain it so let's go)

In the Witcher universe, there's a concept called the Law of Surprise.

It can be invoked/offered to someone else out of gratitude/desperation if they have nothing else to offer a person for their help.

It basically means that whoever offers the Law of Surprise can claim from the other person something they have but aren't aware of.

(Sometimes it's even explained as "give me what you see when you come home that you weren't expecting to find")

Geralt invokes this as a joke/a really Stupid Decision after saving the life of Ciri's father (in the books he's actually really methodical about it but... not in the show I guess)

He claims the law of surprise recklessly, completely unaware that Ciri's mother is pregnant. NO ONE is actually aware of this pregnancy until its indicated fifteen seconds after he invokes the law.

...so yeah he accidentally claimed (Aka surprise-adopted) ciri as an unborn child

He doesn't come back for 12 years until he hears that Nilfgaards coming for Cintra (Ciri's kingdom)

He comes and tells the queen, Calanthe, that he can protect Ciri but Alot Happens and he isn't There to take her to safety

So Calanthe tells Ciri to find Geralt because "he is your destiny"

She meets an elf boy named Dara in the woods (we LOVE dara) and learns that Calanthe, her grandmother, took part in the genocide of the elves and she learns alot of truths she was never told of

She spends s1 1.) Trying to find Geralt 2.) Understand her weird screaming powers 3.) Outrun Nilfgaard because they keep trying to capture her 4.) Learn the awful truth of what her family has done

(Also in s2 they give her darker eyebrows and fancy hair braids and honestly... it's Weird)

(S2 does give Jaskier a hat though)

(but apparently for about "47 seconds" according to his actor Joey Batey)

(He's also in that "The Amazing Devil" band that I hc Douxie likes :) )

(They're very good! I recommend.)

So... the whole first season is about Geralt, Yennefer, and Ciri's storylines coming together! :)

So... yeah :> the reason I dread being disappointed next season is because the show has botched alot of charming elements of the book series (cutting a super important story that brings Geralt and Ciri together, making Geralt less witty/funny/kind to his Bard Best Friend, everything with the timelines of the first season (but they aren't doing weird timeline stuff in s2 I don't think), just alot of decisions to make the show edgier than the books), and between that and some Bad Rumors about how a beloved character from the books might get killed off, I'm preparing for some disappointment.

But! Who knows! I expected rise of the titans to be AMAZING, and it... wasn't, so obviously, Witcher s2, which I'm prepping to be disappointed by, is gonna be WONDERFUL. Because... PEMDAS :)

Anyway... I sort of went overboard, but if you like fantasy shows that deal with magic like tales of arcadia, but a bit more mature/violent/dealing with darker themes for older audiences, I recommend it.

Thanks for the ask! I was really happy to talk about another one of my favorite shows :)

#answered #i don't mean to be overkill with the warning #but unless you're an older teen/adult you should not watch this show #and because this fandom has alot of younger fans I'm going to be cautious of that when mentioning darker shows #...i spent an hour writing this out instead of FINISHING MY FIC >:/ #but its not my fault #anon activated my trap card #and my trap card is the witcher #but unfortunately #it trapped the both of us

[aspiring-ginger]

Of All the Stars in the Sky (Jaskier x Reader)

Request:  Yay! So happy your requests are open! I love your wriring. Can you please do something with Jaskier? Maybe reader has been trained with a sword most their life and travels with Geralt and Jaskier. He could write a song about the reader (very original haha) or reader gets hurt and Jaskier worries for them. I don’t know, thank you ♡

Summary: Geralt & the gang are on their way to Vizima when some trouble brews outside of the city gates. Suspicions rise when the reader doesn’t show up to the New Narakort Inn as planned.

Warnings: Strong language, violence. Nothing unusual for the Witcher.

Word count: 5,808

Pairing(s): Jaskier x reader

A/N: Here ya go, anon! I got carried away and couldn’t choose one of the two options, so I just did both. Almost 6k haha. Reader’s gender wasn’t mentioned so I did my best to keep it gender neutral. I took some inspiration from The Witcher 1, as well as the Carnal Sins questline from The Witcher 3. Also thanks to my best friend for helping me write this (she doesn’t have a tumblr or I’d tag), thanks bb!! Some of you wanted to be added to my taglist so I’m going to do it by fandom, character, and series. Please specify which you want to be tagged in or else you’re getting everything lol. So anyone who commented on Forget-Me-Not chap 1 is going to be just for that series, unless you said otherwise. Anyway, I hope y’all enjoy this one! As always requests, comments, and feedback is always appreciated. Happy Valentine’s Day!!

Taglist: @dandelionwitcher​ @thunderdog8​

Masterlist

There was a simple comfort found on the open road. Surrounded by nature untainted by man, nothing but earth and sky around you. Everything raw and untamed just as nature intended.

It was here out in the open where you found yourself currently, head resting on your bunched up cloak propped up on a log, angled up at the sky. Geralt and Jaskier were around somewhere, each tending to his own business. Geralt had been holed up in his tent, most likely replenishing his stock of potions and elixirs after your last hunt.

Geralt had learned quickly that any and all alchemy was to be done privately in his room or tent, away from Jaskier’s prying eyes. You had only been travelling with the odd pair for a few weeks at that point, still unsure of the limits and boundaries you had with the two. You had been sitting with them close to the small campfire Geralt had set up. It was a warm night, the boys both shedding their outer layers and rolling their sleeves to get as much air as possible. You were intrigued by the witcher’s alchemy as you had never seen anything quite like it before. Sure, you’d seen your share of healers’ work but this was something else entirely. Apparently neither had Jaskier, as he was avidly asking questions and inching closer by the minute. It wasn’t long before Jaskier’s relentless inquiries turned to bickering, and whatever unfinished concoction Geralt had been making was spilled. The ground sizzled when splashed, as did the boys’ exposed skin. While you pitied them both for the chemical burns, the rest of the week had been pretty entertaining. Stock full of pouting and theatrics.

You snickered at the memory as you stared up at the night sky. Jaskier’s childish actions that week had really brought the three of you together, and solidified your part in the rag-tag team. You had come to the rescue when ambushed by bandits later in the week. Geralt was unable to defend both himself and the bard given his current injuries, and you had swooped in at the last second deflecting a blade aimed at Jaskier’s throat. After that moment you had decided to stick with the boys for good.

“What are you laughing at? Something funny in the sky?” Jaskier teased, propping himself up against the log next to you.

You hadn’t heard him approach, jumping slightly at his words. He had been washing up at the nearby creek and you weren’t expecting him to be back so soon. The fresh smell of his soap- a mixture of sandalwood, sage, and a sweet fruit, cherry maybe?, hit your nose as he nudged your shoulder with his and laughed.

“No, just remembering something funny,” You smiled.

“Oh? Would you care to share? Geralt’s ‘locked’ himself in his tent so I could use a bit of a pick me up.” He teased, stretching his arms behind his head to mimic your position.

You jokingly hummed in thought, “Remember that time with Geralt’s potions and you managed to burn right through your shirt? What, a year ago now? You demanded extra special care for your 'terrible wounds’ that whole week! I swear I thought Geralt was going to tear your head off.”

“In my defense, that had been one of my favorite shirts from home, which was absolutely flattering by the way, and they really were terrible wounds! I seem to recall you coming to my rescue- my knight in shining armor with her noble steed,” He giggled and dramatically draped a hand over his forehead.

“I’m sure Blueberry just loved carrying your spoiled arse around,” You snorted.

Jaskier scoffed, “Blueberry and I have become great friends since then. She adores me!”

You heard your mare snort as if in response, and the two of you dissolved into a fit of giggles and laughter. You wiped a stray tear from your eye and sighed. You turned your head to look at the bard

“We’re finally headed back to Vizima tomorrow. Are you excited for a real bath and a soft bed?”

“How could I not? One can only travel on the road for so long before needing a well earned refresher. Even the witcher has his limits,” You hummed in agreement. “Besides! I’ll be debuting my newest song. This one will be a hit, I’m sure of it! Even better than the last!”

“Really? Even better than Toss a Coin?” You raised a brow in mock surprise.

“Let’s just say that I have a better inspiration this time around,” He turned to face you as well, throwing a wink in your direction.

You let out a nervous laugh and prayed to Melitele that the darkness around you hid the blush that dusted your cheeks. You cleared your throat and pointed up at the sky, hoping to change the topic.

“Do you ever get lost in the beauty of the stars? We see them every night, yet each time I look up they almost take my breath away. I get dizzy just looking at them all.”

Jaskier let out a low chuckle, “Wonderfully spoken, (y/n). Mind if I use that in a song?”

You rolled your eyes “I’m being serious! I just don’t understand how something so beautiful just goes unnoticed by so many.”

You heard Jaskier hum next to you and you glanced over to see his reaction. His face and body was turned to face you, a small smile gracing his cheeks. Firelight flickered in his bright blue eyes and you were overwhelmed with the scent of him again. Seconds ticked by as you were pulled in by his gaze. You could’ve sworn you saw his eyes dart down to your lips. His face was so close to yours, you just wanted to reach out and brush his still damp hair out of his eyes, pulling his face close so you could-

You awkwardly cleared your throat, sliding yourself away from him before you could do anything foolish you would regret.

“I um, I-I’ll see you in the morning, Jaskier. Goodnight.” You scooped up your cloak and scurried over to your bedroll. Seeing as how you only had two tents between the three of you and you quite enjoyed the weather this time of year, you offered Geralt and Jaskier a tent each. You cursed yourself and you turned away in your blankets, trying to ignore the bard across the camp.

Jaskier sighed and called his goodnights out to you and Geralt as well. He glanced up at the stars with a wistful smile. It would only be one more day, maybe two, before he could finally follow through with his plan. He had connections with the New Narakort Inn where he arranged your group’s stay in the city. Hopefully by then he would have the lyrics finished and ready to perform. His previous attempts at flirting had failed to get your attention, so as a final resort he devised his whole plan to perform his new song to you, as a confession. 

He climbed into his tent, pulling out his notebook and scratching out a few words with a sigh. He made a note to mention your love for the stars, and you technically didn’t say no to his request to quote you earlier. He pulled out his lute and rehearsed the melody of the song, mumbling possible lyrics under his breath. You smiled as you rolled over, Jaskier’s calming chords lulling you to sleep.

You woke as the first rays of sunlight began to peek through the trees above. A light fog had settled in around you, refracting the light around you. It was quite pretty, actually. You sat up and stretched your arms out, then ran a hand down your face when you faltered. Looking down in confusion, you saw an extra blanket pooled in your lap. One sniff and you identified it as Jaskier’s. Since when did he wake up early? You supposed it had gotten a little chilly during the night, but it was spring after all. You wanted to enjoy your time outdoors before the heat would put you in a sour mood.

You sent a nervous glance at the two tents opposite you, pausing to listen if the occupants had woken up yet. Satisfied when you heard silence you pulled Jaskier’s blanket up to your chest and took a deep breath. You couldn’t hide your smile at his sweet gesture and a quiet giggle escaped your lips. You laid back down all giddy, burying your face into his blanket. It wasn’t long before you drifted back to sleep.

Jaskier emerged from his tent later that morning. Geralt had already started packing his things away, giving him a nod in acknowledgement. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out an apple and tossed it at the bard. Jaskier caught it, buffing it against his shirt before taking a bite. He wiped juice off his chin as he walked up to the witcher. Geralt raised an eyebrow at him with an amused smirk. 

“What, is there something on my face? Bad bedhead or something?” Jaskier tutted, placing one hand on his hip.

“Really, Jaskier?” Geralt responded not bothering to elaborate, but inclined his head in your direction.

“Wha-?” He faltered, “What are you talking about, Geralt? It’s too early to decipher your broody minimalism,” He swallowed thickly, fidgeting the apple in his hands.

“Thought your spoiled arse would be cold sleeping without a blanket.” Geralt shrugged, hiding a smirk. He left the bard sputtering to come up with an excuse.

Taking Geralt’s cue that he was done with the conversation for now Jaskier took another bite and sighed. He forgot about the witcher’s heightened senses and would have to be subtler in the future. He was pretty sure Geralt already took him for a fool, but he’d prefer not to fan the flames any more. His head shot up realizing that you could’ve heard their conversation, wincing at his carelessness. His shoulders slumped back down when he saw your still sleeping form. Seems like Geralt didn’t wake you on purpose. Ha ha, very funny.

He quietly padded up to you, careful not to make any sudden movements. You had his blanket snuggled right up against your face, a small smile gracing your features. Jaskier couldn’t help but grin as he felt his heart squeeze at the sight. He gently shook your shoulder and called out your name.

“Wakey wakey, sleeping beauty! We’ve got quite a day ahead of us. Up and at 'em!” You squinted your eyes at Jaskier for disturbing your sleep. He laughed at your pouting and strolled away to pack his things.

You stared forward for a few moments waiting for your brain to fully wake up. Your eyes shot open wide- you still had that damn blanket pulled right up to you- and you quickly shoved it off. You winced and hoped you didn’t look too silly in your sleep. You packed your belongings as well. You certainly didn’t feel like a sleeping beauty as you smoothed your rumpled hair back down.

When you had everything stuffed back into your saddlebags and pack, you went to greet Blueberry with her morning pets. It seemed Jaskier already beat you to it- he was feeding her the remnants of his apple and running his hand through her mane. He muttered praise under his breath as he untangled knots with his fingers. You swallowed and paused to gather your thoughts before coming any closer. If he kept this up any longer you just knew you wouldn’t be able to concentrate with his hands around your waist for gods know how many hours until you arrived in Vizima. 

You slung the bags around Blueberry’s back and gave her a gentle pat, giving Jaskier a curt smile. 

“I don’t feel all that great, so you can go ahead and take the reins today,” At least that way you would be able to hide your face if you were embarrassed. “And that way I’ll have better access to my sword. You know, in case monsters or bandits or something,” You justified. You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more- you or him.

You turned on your heels and briskly walked back to your spot. You felt ashamed that you let yourself get carried away with your thoughts. Stupid girlish thoughts. You sighed as you strapped on your light armor. You were a fool to hope Jaskier was anything more than a friend. You double checked your sword- inspecting the blade before sheathing it at your hip. You restrung your shortbow and slung it over your shoulder, and secured your small quiver at your hip. Bandits often patrolled the roads close to the city. Geralt would hear anyone coming way before you, but you wanted to be prepared.

The ride in was mostly uneventful, you spent most of your time dodging Jaskier’s lute case every time he whipped his head back to say something to you. You hadn’t been fast enough the first time, and he and Geralt would not let it go, relentlessly teasing you for being bested by a damn lute. At first it was funny and you laughed along with them, but after the 8th or so close call it got old fast.

You parted ways with Geralt and Jaskier at the city gates, following your usual routine. You would check the outskirts for work for either Geralt or yourself. You often took on hunting jobs or other contracts that didn’t directly involve monsters, since that was obviously Geralt’s area of expertise. Geralt would check notice boards within the city while Jaskier would secure room and board at the best inn he could find that would let him perform. He would take care of Roach and Blueberry and by the time he was done, you and Geralt would return and discuss your findings. Dividing and conquering was your best strategy to ensure you made the most coin you possibly could. 

As you slid off of Blueberry’s back, Jaskier informed you to meet at the New Narakort Inn. It was unusual for him to be so prepared, but you shrugged it off as perks of being a bard/entertainer. It didn’t take long to find a notice board in the outskirts. Most of the papers posted were generic notices to the public- “be wary of the merchant with the red hair, don’t give yer money to a witch!” Or complaints of missing livestock- completely useless. There were two promising notes, however. One claiming that Old Farmer Ned’s goats were being slaughtered by terrible beasts. You pocketed that one for Geralt. The other asked for a good amount of venison for some nearby butcher. You tore that one off for yourself.

As you perused the board in front of you, you paid no mind to the villagers milling about. You did begin to take notice as a commotion started to your left. 3 burly men dressed in matching rags and similar tattoos surrounded a young elven girl with their weapons drawn. She clutched a covered basket close to her chest and sobbed. One man held up his blade while the other gestured for the woman to hand the goods over. You couldn’t exactly make out what they were saying, but you guessed the elven woman was begging to let her go. An uneasy feeling settled in your stomach as you glanced around to see if anyone else around noticed what was happening. You frowned in disappointment. Men and women rushed past with heads down ignoring the scene, some even cheering on the men and calling out racial slurs. The first man had stepped even closer to the poor girl, his sword held against her neck as the other men jeered. You sighed and rolled your shoulders back. There was no way you could let this happen, not when you could do something about it.

In the blink of an eye your sword collided with the first man’s, pushing it away from the woman. You held an arm out to her and gestured for her to get behind you.

“You know, you shouldn’t take things that don’t belong to you. Apologize to the woman and walk away,” You threatened with a snarl. The girl ran behind you and clutched your sleeve in fear.

The other two men laughed and pointed their swords at you, the first one just rolled his eyes, “And what are you going to do about it, elf lover? You gonna stand up for this nonhuman filth? We deserve that basket. It should be ours. And once we take it, we’ll get to have our way with her. You want that too, you little shit?” He sneered.

You spat at their feet and swung your sword to disarm the man, kicking him in the groin. He crumpled to the ground as the other two stepped forward, swords swinging. You dodged one and parried the other. They circled around you into a flank position. The second man lunged at you. You stepped back and grabbed him, using his momentum to send him crashing into his buddy. The first man stood up and began to reach for his sword. You turned, smacking the butt of your hilt against the back of his head as he bent over. He collapsed back to the ground with a thud. 

The third goon shoved the second off with a grunt and came charging at you, empty handed. His fist smacked right into your chest knocking the air out of your lungs. You hunched over and gasped. The goon saw this as an opening and raised his leg to kick your face in. Your eyes trained on the ground saw his leg lift up, and you took this opportunity to sweep his legs out from under him. He fell to the ground and clawed at your leg. The other man came at you with his sword. Your blades clashed as you shook your leg in an attempt to get rid of the fool at your feet. With a strong kick of your leg, you forced your foot into the man’s face. You heard a sickening crunch and he screamed in pain. With your foot now free, you turned your attention back to the last man standing. You parried blow after blow, the man relentlessly swinging at you. He was quite sloppy, and you quickly found an opening to disarm him as well. You held your blade against his neck, drawing a bit of blood. The man trembled and raised his hands in the air in defeat. 

You spat in his face and shoved him to the ground, “You and your friends can go and fuck right off. Next time you think twice about who you’re robbing.” You drove one more kick into his stomach for good measure. 

The man scrambled to gather the other two thugs and their weapons before scampering off. They called out slurs and insults as they left but you paid them no mind. You bent over to pick up a jar that had fallen out of the woman’s basket. She had just been carrying groceries home. 

You turned around and offered the jar to her with a smile. She stared at you with wide eyes before thanking you profusely. She pulled you into a hug with a sob, choking something out about the kindness of some humans. You awkwardly patted her on the back and placed the jar back into her basket. She started to take out her coin purse insisting on payment but you just held up your hand and shook your head. There was no possible way you could ever take her coin. All you had done was step in to help a woman in need. Just doing what was right. You told the woman this and she responded with another sob. She shook your hand and hurried away with a wave.

You sheathed your sword with a sigh. The villagers avoided your gaze and went out of their way to give you a wide berth. At this point you just desperately wanted a bath, good food and drink, and some quality time spent with your friends. You went and picked up the notice you dropped by the board before you stepped in to help. All you had to do was speak to the butcher to negotiate pay and the amount of meat needed. Then you could finally head into town.

The sun was setting by the time that you made your way past the city gates into the Temple Quarter. It had taken much more time to track down and speak with the butcher, and you hoped that you had enough time for a quick soak before Jaskier’s performance. Even though you’ve heard him play countless times before, you couldn’t miss even a single performance. Seeing him lute in hand playing for so many people was simply put, a breathtaking experience. He was in his element, oozing confidence and charm as he circled the room singing his heart out. Faces in the crowd smiled and cheered along with his songs, clapping and raising their mugs in approval. Every time he would glance back at whatever table you and Geralt had chosen, your heart felt as if it was about to burst. He always looked you in the eye and winked before turning back to the crowd and each time the butterflies in your stomach went crazy. He was so happy and pure and every time without fail, he took that moment to acknowledge you. 

Even just thinking about him made your cheeks flush as you walked through the slums of the city. It was only a few more blocks until the Trade Quarter, where the New Narakort was located. You smiled as you saw the torches of guards posted at the gate over the top of the hill. You were so lost in your thoughts as you approached, that you failed to notice the shadow lurking in an alleyway nearby. It darted out as you walked by and grabbed you. A hand was clamped over your mouth before you could cry out and you were dragged back into the alley. The hand released you and you whipped your head around to identify your attacker. A strong blow to your face left you spitting up blood with a groan.

“Serves you right for helping out that disgusting nonhuman, you piece of filth!” You recognized the voice as one of the thugs from earlier.

You opened your mouth to respond, but instead a strong kick to your core knocked the words right out of you. You took blow after blow, spitting up blood when you got the chance. There were at least the same 3 men from before, but you were so disoriented you couldn’t even tell. They paused every so often to let you catch your breath and try to fight back before kicking you down to the ground again. Kick after kick after kick you struggled on the ground. There was a sharp pain in your right thigh as, what you guessed could only be, a dagger drove straight into your poor leg. You screamed out in agony and suffered another blow to the head. Each attack seemed to be growing in power as you clawed at the ground to try and escape. A sob escaped your lips as you felt the slash of another blade across your back. The men around you cheered and laughed, all taking part of the fun.

“You don’t mess with us, you elf loving whore!” The main attacker cried. With a laugh his final blow to your head had you seeing stars, and the world faded to black.

When you came to, you were alone. the moon was already high in the sky, and you couldn’t make anything out in the alley around you. You groaned in pain as you tried to sit up to assess your wounds. The dagger that was plunged deep into your thigh was still there, stopping most of the bleeding. That was good, but every time you even shifted, you cried out in pain. You had to take it out but you didn’t have any of your supplies on you, you left it all packed on Blueberry. The cut on your back scabbed up, but you probably opened it back up by moving around. Your whole face felt swollen, and you tasted blood. You were sure you looked like absolute shit.

You struggled to stand. Leaning heavily against the wall, you spat out more blood. You shuffled against the brick wall, hands clawing any groove you could grab just to pull yourself forward. You manage a couple of steps before you collapse down the ground. Fuck. You didn’t know how far you could go in the state. You let out a frustrated sob. Would Geralt and Jaskier be able to find you in time? Did they even notice you were gone? Your thoughts were racing as you heaved yourself up once more. You banged your leg against the wall and yelped- your vision going fuzzy for a moment. If you could at least drag yourself out of the alley, maybe there was a chance a guard would find you?

You heard footsteps approach and winced- were those thugs coming back for more? You looked up and saw a silhouette of a man.

“Don’t worry, I’m not here to hurt you. I’m here to help.” You heard a soothing voice call out. You groaned and shifted against the bricks. “I saw what you did earlier, outside of town. You helped one of my kind. I wish to repay this kindness.” He stepped closer and slipped an arm around you, holding you up so your weight wasn’t on your injured leg. 

“Please, save your energy and don’t speak. My name is Palmar, I’m a trained healer. I’ll take you back to my house to patch you up. Do you live here?” You shook your head, “Are you here alone?” You shook your head, “We can send word to your companions once we get you safe. Is that alright?” You nodded. You then lurched forward, Palmar holding you up.

The journey to Palmar’s small house went by in a blur, the pain in your leg too strong to focus on anything else. When you arrived, he laid you down on a cot in the main room. It was small with only a fireplace, a table, your cot, and a hallway visible. Once you were propped up with pillows, Palmar lit the fireplace and several candles throughout the room to provide light. You finally got a good look at your savior. He was tall and scrawny, dressed in a simple shirt and pants. He looked young, maybe 30 years you guessed. The top of his auburn hair was pulled into a bun while the rest hung down to his shoulder. He caught your gaze and smiled, warm brown eyes filled with warmth.

“I assure you, I have treated many wounds like this. You are in good hands. I told you my name, but I’m afraid I didn’t catch yours,” He strode around the room, gathering various vials and bandages.

“(Y/n). I travelled here with a witcher and a bard- Geralt of Rivia and Jaskier. I was supposed to meet them at the New Narakort.” Your voice was raspy and strained.

“The New Narakort? A fine establishment. I’ve heard their stew is to die for,” He smiled again, undoing the straps of your armor and weapons. “I’m afraid this is going to hurt. Like a bitch,” He chuckled “I’m going to pull the knife out on the count of three, alright? Ready? One, two-” you braced yourself for the pain, crying out as he yanked the dagger out early. Palmar quickly cleaned out the wound. With the knife gone, he helped you strip down to your smalls. He cleaned and dressed the rest of your wounds, muttering words of encouragement as he went. As the pain finally began to lessen, you felt your eyelids droop with exhaustion. Palmar let out a small chuckle.

“It’s alright, my friend. You can rest. I will go fetch your friends while you sleep.” You furrowed your brow at him, not understanding why he was being so kind.

“I don’t understand, why are you helping me?” You forced your eyes open. You didn’t want to fall asleep without knowing the answer. Palmar helped you back into your shirt and lay comfortably on the cot.

“As I said before, I saw what you did for that poor woman outside of town. You stood up to those humans. No other human would’ve stepped in like you did. I am grateful. I was walking home when I saw those awful humans leave the alley and my gut told me to check it before I continued home- and I found you.” You sighed, happy with his answer for now. You couldn’t keep your eyes open any longer so you snuggled closer to the blankets. As Palmar stood to leave he whispered, “My daughter was killed by that very same gang. The one you stood up against. This was the very least I could do to help.” You slipped into a dreamless sleep.

You felt a clammy hand grab yours, and another shake you awake. You opened your eyes to a bright blue pair looking down at you in worry. Jaskier. 

“Oh, thank the gods. Geralt, they’re awake! Oh (y/n), you have no idea how worried I was for you! We waited at the inn and when it got dark and you still hadn’t shown, well Geralt said not to worry, but I just knew something wasn’t right! You’ve never missed any of my performances. I couldn’t let you break your streak, so I waited for you. And waited, and waited. Then this lovely man showed up and- gods! I’m just glad you’re alright,” Jaskier rambled, squeezing your hand tighter and tighter with each word.

“Jaskier, I’m okay.” You squeezed his hand back with a smile. 

“Blueberry is waiting outside. We’ll take you back to the inn.” Geralt said as he gathered your things and carried them outside.

Jaskier said something to Palmar in Elder as he helped you out of bed, which he responded in kind. You made a mental note to ask Jaskier about it later. They exchanged a few more words, and soon they had you out of the door and on Blueberry’s back. Palmar shook your hand one last smile and thanks before you were on your way. Geralt lead Blueberry by the reins while Jaskier walked beside you, his hand coming up to nervously rub you calf. On your uninjured side, of course. 

Your friends slowly lead you through the streets of Vizima, right to the New Narakort. Jaskier helped you inside and to your room while Geralt took care of Blueberry. Jaskier fussed over you, helping you wash your hair and settling you into bed, fluffing every pillow in the process. He bid you goodnight with a squeeze of your hand and blew out the candles, but he hesitated at the door. 

“Jaskier? What’s wrong?” You asked, voice laced with worry.

“You could’ve died. They left you in that alley to die and I could have lost you,” Jaskier choked out.

“Julian. It’s alright. I’m alright. I’m safe now. Don’t worry.” He snapped his head up when you called out his real name.

“(Y/n), I always worry. Every time you go out with Geralt on a hunt, or when you pick up odd jobs around towns. I worry. I’m always going to worry about you, because you’re my friend. Actually- hang on a minute. I’ll be just a moment!” He rushed out the room in a flash. Your heart ached at his words. You’re my friend. Just a friend. A bittersweet smile escaped your lips. It was obvious just how much the bard cared for you, but it still wasn’t enough. You sighed, swallowing back tears and waited for him to come back.

Jaskier was true to his word- he was only gone for two minutes at most. He burst back into the room, out of breath with his lute in hand.

“(Y/n), the reason I couldn’t have you miss my performance is because of my new song. Remember? I’ve finally finished it, and I couldn’t have you miss it, because…” he faltered, hands wringing nervously, “I wrote it for you.” You looked at him in surprise as he held the lute up and began to play. The melody was beautiful. It was somewhat familiar as you had tried to eavesdrop whenever you could in camp, but you had never heard the words before. He sang about a fierce warrior with (h/c) hair shining in the sun as they defeated their foes, their bravery and kindness unmatched. The beauty of their laugh and smile was enough to turn the heads of everyone as they walked into the room. Their love of the stars in the night sky, 'each time I look at them, they take my breath away’. He was quoting you, in a song he wrote for you. No, wrote about you. He wrote this song about you. Tears sprang up in your eyes as you came to this realization. Jaskier’s fingers slipped as he saw your reaction.

“I-it’s horrible isn’t it. I figured. I should’ve waited a bit longer- practiced it more.” He groaned, running his hand down his face. “(Y/n), I’m sorry. Obviously I need to work on this one a bit more but.. you have to understand that you almost died. I wrote this song and you almost died. I had to play it for you before I would lose the chance because… because (y/n). I love you.” His piercing blue eyes were filled with hope as he looked into yours.

“Julian- I love it. It’s beautiful and I love the song and I love you too,” your words were all rushed together- you couldn’t get them out fast enough.

Jaskier launched himself at you, careful of your wounds, and embraced you tight. You breathed in his familiar scent. 

“So since you love me back, does that mean I get to kiss you?” He asked with a smirk, legs straddling your own.

“Oh come here, you,” you laughed. Your hands grasped the sides of his face and pulled him close. You could feel his hot breath against your lips as he hesitated, before he pressed his lips against yours. Your eyelids fluttered shut in content. If this is what it took to finally be with your favorite bard, you’d do it a hundred times over. Now you could finally call Jaskier your own.

#jaskier x reader #jaskier imagine #Jaskier #dandelion #dandelion imagine #dandelion x reader #dandelion x you #jaskier x you #My writing #request #the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher netflix #the witcher netflix x reader #the witcher netflix imagine #the witcher netflix x you

[aeide-thea]

This is a gentle request for any Geraskier fics you want to rec, because the number of them in the tag is a bit overwhelming but I KNOW there are gems in there 👀

i’m pretty sure i’ve reblogged things in the past! but it’s true that i haven’t done that in any systematic way, so—let’s see. under the cut are 20-ish recs alphabetized by author, which seemed like a good way of avoiding having to make any hierarchical declarations:

o, empathy by almostnectarine/@nectarine-pit: bodyswap! i forgot how much i loved this fic. geralt and jaskier walk a mile in each other’s shoes, and learn to appreciate each other better; this is keenly observed and thought-through, and frequently extremely funny. a thoroughgoing delight.

Jaskier pulled a face and swiveled the straps such that both swords almost fell from their scabbards at once, ruining the moment. “Geralt,” he said, “this leather itches. You’ve lived five lifetimes—” “Not that old,” said Geralt, in protest, and then, considering: “Maybe three.” “—and you never once thought, hm— oh, I see why you do that all the time, it is quite fun, isn’t it— hm, maybe I’ll add a little padding?!” His mimicry of Geralt’s tone was very good, although perhaps it was cheating, when the voice was already the same.

public displays of affection by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: geralt and jaskier go to a sex party! (not to be confused with the other fic by sospes in which geralt and jaskier go to a sex party, which is also excellent.) if that wasn’t enough of a sell, well, you confuse me, but—the flavor of the power dynamic here is a little complex and unusual in a way i enjoyed, plus frankly the description of geralt stripped down for this party is really, uh. really A Lot. i admit to being biased in favor of sex party stories in general but this one is definitely a keeper.

to you always, also by autoschediastic/@bluesoaring: in which geralt is a demanding, insatiable bottom. ...honestly, this fic has significantly more emotional weight to it than that description might suggest, but i still stand by it. also the initial setup is just really funny to me, because jaskier getting hilariously outraged by geralt’s sheer infuriating geralt-ness is, like, my fave flavor of jaskier. (that’s a lie, every flavor of jaskier is my favorite flavor of jaskier, but i do really delight in this one.)

@blossomsinthemist’s mixing memory and desire series (wip) is basically my favorite thing ever, like, just truly perfectly crafted to please me personally. it’s h/c, and just astonishingly luxuriant and languorous and lovely—or, okay, let me actually just quote a comment i left on an early chapter:

this is just so exquisitely tender and molasses-lovely-sweet so far, my god the glimpses we get dimly through geralt’s hazy bemused perception of what jaskier’s feeling are so heart-clenchingly poignant—and then of course the glimpses of what geralt himself is feeling for jaskier without understanding it, this stunned rapt gratitude for everything jaskier is doing but also everything jaskier is, the lovely gentle sturdy solicitous gift he is & keeps making of himself to geralt, who would probably call it undeserved except that of course we can see precisely what in geralt has tugged this tenderness from jaskier, this terrible aching wounded gallantry that’s so astonished to meet with respite…

the meet death sitting (wip) series by @bomberqueen17 is my other favorite thing—much plottier than the previous, with a much wider cast of characters, and while i’m ultimately in it for the geralt/jaskier and therefore being strung along in exquisite agony while all sorts of plot things get in the way of any real resolution of that, it’s honestly worth it; what you lose in immediate gratification you gain in, like, a sense that this story inhabits a real, full world, with real events that aren’t just arranged to suit our heroes’ convenience. if i could only get you to read two things it would be this series and the previous one: between them they have my heart. anyway i guess i may as well quote myself again:

it’s the rich realistic interweaving of things that’s so remarkable here, how the absolute throat-thickening aches run abruptly up against the entirely mundane and all of it has to be coped with, because that’s life, and this story has life within it, in a realer way than probably anything else in the fandom, maybe anything else i’ve read in a long time. and of course a large part of me is so, so desperate for geralt and jaskier to finally come back together, with enough time and space to settle into a mutual secure tenderness instead of the current wordless, longing, poised-always-to-spring-away-like-deer-in-a-forest situation; but the story is coaxing me into a more adult patience, an appreciation for the smaller quieter incidental pleasures that aren’t the one subsuming great love, and then also teaching me to live with the wounds one inevitably acquired along the way, the pull and ache of those that makes the whole thing real, not a shining fantasy but a homely pie with a rich satisfying filling, savory and bolstering.

my body bruises at your touch by @brawlite: jaskier gets tied up by geralt as bait for the monster of the week, and discovers he likes it quite a bit. smut (and then aftercare) ensues.

demand an encore (wip) by emamel/@theaceace: jaskier is a witcher of the viper school, or used to be. he doesn’t remember it, but geralt does.

it’s been a while since i read this, but the way the layers slowly start fitting together is really satisfying: all the joy of what i think the kids call ‘identity porn,’ with the twist that here, it’s geralt who knows both identities, and jaskier who’s still in ignorance. ugh, i want chapter 3 now.

musica universalis by flirtygaybrit is bookverse and clearly so—it’s not romantic, but there’s a particular ambiguous flavor of solicitous tenderness that elevates this ‘friendly drunken hookup’ scenario to something memorable for me.

of cherries and dandelions by heyriel: in which a still-virginal jaskier bites off more than he can chew, and tries to disguise it until he can’t anymore. as i said to the author:

this is lovely and realistic in its navigation of, like, trying to Be Cool and the ways that can sometimes get you in trouble as a young sexplorer—geralt is so good to jaskier here and i’m having feelings about it!

also geralt uses a dildo on jaskier, which was not a thing i’d known i wanted before reading this, but it turns out i’m very decidedly here for it! i haven’t seen a ton of sex toys in geraskier fic and this story makes me wish there were more.

gentle-sharp and strange by lisztful has some excellent touch-starved pining geralt, also a performatively public bath scene with very satisfactory sexual tension, also an Ancient Tradition which is maybe the thing i remember most about this fic.

i know that you would want it (if i could sink my teeth into you) by objectlesson is... look, there’s an actual emotional arc to this story, but really what i always remember about it is that it’s got the most overwhelmingly visceral rimming scene i’ve maybe ever read? it’s a lot, it’s a gift, go read it.

@pasdecoeur has several stories that are very funny with some very piercingly erotic moments! briefly sketched in some ways and more pining than porny but no less effective for it.

benefits by @shastafirecracker is a pwp story in which jaskier is first surprised to find geralt wants him to top, and then determined to give geralt the best dicking he’s ever had. jaskier’s inner dialogue in this one is really fun; geralt’s exterior dialogue is true to the show in that it’s minimal but nonetheless includes a bad pun. :)

even a small love by shecrows/@leighway is like. you think you know how things are going to go, and then jaskier balks and it abruptly swerves sideways and develops a whole plot, and then comes back around to where it started, but deeper and better. don’t you love how you can summarize a fic without saying anything meaningful or even helpful about it? anyway: read this one.

snowmelt by silklace/@silkcoeur is a/b/o and somehow both extremely hilarious and extremely hot in full measure. the banter is a fucking delight but so are the tension/sex/feelings.

It wasn’t until they were well on the road away from town that it really hit him, though possibly he should have been paying attention to the way the backs of his knees had started sweating the minute he’d seen Geralt walking towards him outside of Yennefer’s manor, or to the way his throat had gone hot and dry despite the taste of sweetness still on the back of his teeth from the wine skin he’d pilfered from her pantry on his way out. In his defense, he’d still been recovering from spending the prior evening steadfastly spitting his insides up onto his outsides. Also, he tended to always get a little sweaty around Geralt, a fact they were both apparently extremely united in assiduously pretending was not happening.

the sevenfold path by star_flaming/@europeansdomusicalsbetter: in which jaskier is demonstrably extremely well educated, and geralt has feelings about it. (i also have feelings about it, but mine are in my pants.)

you are in my blood by @suzukiblu​: au where jaskier is a bruxa. this alters his character significantly—hard to be too skittish about bloodletting when you’re a vampire!—but the story’s so engaging you probably won’t care? plus, uh, hot. :)

Jaskier’s just debating how much trouble he’s actually in when Geralt, marvelously, talks them out of it. After that, well... Jaskier still wants to eat him very badly, but he supposes it’d be a bit ungrateful of him. Geralt isn’t very impressed with the song he writes for him, unfortunately—which, rude—but doesn’t try to run off and leave him either, so.. Well, Jaskier’s a bit smitten. A delicious-smelling witcher who can talk his way out of being murdered is very impressive. And he always has wanted a pet.

taran (@iamtaran)’s manhandling without plot series has no sex but lots of violent, compellingly visceral hijinks and i like to think of it as preslash. three times geralt hauls jaskier out of trouble.

Jaskier is flat on his back with his chemise rucked up to his armpits, salve burning on his bruised ribs, breathing hard; he is drunk, but not nearly as drunk as he was when he threw that first punch; Geralt is stupidly strong and has him pinned beneath one hand and the sheer girth of his own hips, looking grumpy and short on patience, and under everything—the aromatic menthol and chamomile smell of the salve, the aching of his cheek and lip, the relief of seeing Geralt just as upright and uninjured as he had been when he left, Jaskier is… He had thought he was furious. He still is, somewhat. Like… like a seed is a flower. It was, at first, before it became something else. And given enough time it might become such again. It is what it is in the meantime, however. Fury. Seeds.

last but not least, @toyhto​ has a bunch of fics that crack me the fuck up: geralt is unbelievably oblivious to his own emotions even as he acts on them, and it’s just—it’s so, so funny. also sometimes quite sweet, and sometimes quite painful! there’s a particular air of, i don’t know, almost see-spot-run impenetrability to the writing here that lends itself perfectly to the thing the stories are doing, where geralt is just operating totally on a surface level and, like, feelings are moving in the deep but he can’t quite see them...

...and that’s all for now! more to come later, maybe; but this seems like plenty for a first pass, and anyway i’m blurbed out.

#the witcher #geraskier #fic #recs

[for-a-muse-of-fire]

i’ll crawl home

the wench and the witcher

"i’ll crawl home”

Fandom: The Witcher (2019)

Paring: Geralt of Rivia x Fem!POC Reader.

Summary: Geralt shows up after a bad hunt, and you do what you can to help him. Mr. “I Need No One” is bad at accepting help, you’re not here for his bullshit, and some things come to light.

Warnings: Some descriptions of blood/gore and bodily injury. Geralt and our reader will never NOT be foul-mouthed little darlings.

A/N: I was feeling particularly sentimental and/or protective after rewatching Betrayer Moon? Slowly working my way through Hozier’s discography with these two, and things keep getting all heartfelt and shit. Title and lyrics swiped from Hozier’s “Work Song”.

@coconutxraikage; @onyour-right; @kingniazx; @c-s-stars; @pantrashtic;  @gczanetti1; @alwaysnatz; @kianya-loves

And I was burnin' up with fever I didn't care much how long I lived But I swear I thought I dreamed her She never asked me once about the wrong I did

The fog rolling in from the river casts everything into soft focus. It brings a chill, clinging kind of cold – the sort that makes people bow their heads and pick up the pace as they scurry home. You do just that, shivering in the damp as you pull the heavy wool shawl closer around your neck and shoulders. There’s a dull tension pressing at your scalp, a persistent kind of ache that sets your teeth on edge as you cross the courtyard. Your back door is just in sight – over the threshold waits a warm bath and a blazing fire, thank the gods.

 Your desire for warmth and home is so singular in your mind that you almost miss the skulking figure in the mist until you see it shift. The movement makes you start; you backpedal, then remember the blade in your boot, drawing it in one swift movement.

 “Hey!” you bark.

 “Take it easy,” a familiar voice rumbles irritably. The figure pushes his hood back and you gasp.

 Geralt looks like hell.

 His hair hangs limp around his face, matted with blood and some kind of ichor. A palm-sized bruise blooms along his jaw, but what worries you most is the sweat beading on his forehead. “Geralt,” you murmur, sheathing your knife before you step closer. “What in the hell – “

 A few things happen very quickly. The witcher’s gold eyes roll back into his skull and his legs buckle. You give a shout of his name and dart forward, catching him before he can break his own nose on the cobblestone. Fuck off, but he’s heavy. The sheer bulk of him almost sends you straight to the ground – you plant your feet and curse.

 “Shit,” you gasp. “Geralt, I can’t lift you, love – I need you to stand, come on.”

 He gives a low groan. You feel him shake with the effort, but some of his weight lifts from your shoulder. The pair of you stagger inside and you deposit him at one of the long wooden benches lined up against a table. He sways but manages to prop himself up. In the light of the dying tavern fire, you divest the witcher of his sword belt, cloak, and gloves. His breathing is shallow, labored, and when you press your hand to his forehead, you jerk back in shock – he’s clammy and burning. Carefully, you cup his face in your hands, tipping his chin up until you can get a good look at him.

 “What happened?”

 It takes a moment for him to reply, as if he can’t quite process what you’re asking him. “Shoulder,” he finally mutters.

 With a frown, you make quick work of the buttons on his shirt until you can peel back the collar. It doesn’t take a healer to see what he means: something’s bitten him, and the wound left behind is puffy, red, and hot to the touch. You swear lowly. “Okay,” you murmur. “All right… we need to break your fever. I need you to stand for me, love… that’s it.”

 You leave his gear at the table. It’s slow going up the stairs, but between the two of you, you manage to settle the witcher into your bed. He all but collapses against the headboard with grimace and a breathless groan. When you’re certain he’s not about to keel over again, you crouch to press a kiss to his burning forehead before you go about gathering what you’ll need. After you light a fire in the hearth, the old copper tub is pulled out from its corner. You dart downstairs as fast as you can for cool water from the well and your modest medicine chest. Into the cold bath go a few handfuls of juniper, chamomile, and lavender.

 Geralt seems to slip in and out of awareness. His glassy eyes dart around the room as if tracking the shadows cast by the flickering firelight. When you crouch at his side again, it takes your touch on his forehead to bring him back. There’s something in the way he stares up at you that makes your chest go tight, and you clear your throat before you speak, “Come on, love…”

 You help him undress and have to bite your tongue when you see the state of his body: he’s a patchwork of bruises, fresh and dark, with swathes of raw skin where it looks like something dragged him. Gods...

 It suddenly feels like your stomach is trying to crawl its way out of your mouth. There’s an awful moment when you think you might bloody-well cry, but you force it back as you help Geralt stand; you support him as best you can to get him into the tub. He exhales on a not-quite groan as he settles into the cool water and you murmur lowly in sympathy. You take a clean cotton cloth and dip it into the water, pressing the makeshift compress to the back of Geralt’s neck to try and cool him. You’re surprised when he lets you bathe him, gently pouring the herb-treated water over his hair and cleaning the infected wound. His jaw tenses each time you make a pass over the torn flesh, but he’s silent.

 When the worst of the blood and gore is rinsed away, you take the damp cloth from where it rests on the back of the witcher’s neck and carefully wipe it over his face. “Fever’s coming down,” you murmur. “That’s good. Are you hungry?”

 Geralt grunts and shakes his head.

 “Tired?”

 Another grunt, decidedly more emphatic.

 You almost smile. “Not surprising. Come on…”

 He waves you off when you try to help him stand, but you don’t go far – he moves stiffly, and his face is tight with pain. You’re fairly certain you manage not to stare with outright pity as you hand him a large cotton towel to dry himself with. You give instruction for him to sit on the bed and follows direction with a slow, pained shuffle. A salve is spread gently over the raw skin on his torso. The wound on his shoulder is still red and swollen, but it doesn’t put off its own heat anymore. You pack a sharp-smelling poultice over the bite marks – Geralt hisses out lowly through his teeth.

 “I know, I know – I’m sorry,” you whisper back. “Almost done.”

 You wrap his shoulder and his bruised ribs. In a cup of water, you dissolve powdered valerian root and willow bark, urging him to drink the concoction down. He grimaces at the taste but doesn’t argue. His yellow-gold eyes seem clearer, more alert when he meets your gaze. “Thank you,” he mutters after a moment.

 The smile you give him doesn’t quite reach your eyes. Gods, he looks exhausted.

 You carefully close the distance between the two of you, lips pressing to his temple; when the kiss lingers, you feel him lean into the contact, just a little. “Rest, Geralt,” you whisper against his skin.

 He gives a listless rumble, nosing gently at your jaw until he can brush his lips against yours, just once. The movement required to stretch himself onto his side seems to pain him, briefly, but the battered witcher is asleep almost as soon as his head hits the pillow. You watch him breathe for a few moments before you begin to clean up your supplies and go about emptying the tub. Your eyes ache with how tired you are by the time you strip down to your shift and climb into bed beside Geralt. He doesn’t so much as stir.

 Gently, slowly, you trace your fingertips over the smooth plane of his forehead. You follow the line of his nose and the soft curve of his mouth before beginning to draw mindless sigils over his cheek. He inhales deeply and seems to relax further as your fingers keep moving.

 You fall asleep with your fingers gently curled in his damp white hair.

 _-_-_-_-_-_-_

  Geralt’s low grunt of pain wakes you. You come to with a sharp inhale, eyes blinking open in time to see him wince as he tries to pull on his boot, but you’re unsure if you’re dreaming or not because he cannot be that much of an ass. “What’re you doing?” you grumble, scrubbing your hand through your mussed curls.

 Geralt is very much trying not to make eye contact. The overcast, grey sunlight from the window drains all color from his face, and the black of his shirt doesn’t help. He yanks on his boot and grimaces.

 Apparently, he is that much of an ass.

 “I should be going,” he mutters.

 You sit up as he stands, and you watch as stops himself from holding his sore ribs. “Geralt,” you warn.

 “Thank you. For everything,” he tells you shortly. It’s obvious that he’s still in pain as he exits the room; you grit your teeth, swear, and follow. He makes his stiff-gaited way downstairs with you hot on his tail. Watching him try to strap back into his armor would be almost comical if it weren’t for the way his jaw tightens each time he has to lift his arm. His face is pale, more so than usual, save for spots of color that flush over his cheekbones – the fever’s come back. You give an exasperated growl and finally intercede, snatching his sword belt away when he reaches for it.  

 Geralt glares down at you. “Give it here,” he snaps.

 “You’ve a fever again.”

 “I’m fine,” he grits out.

 “Bullshit.”

 The witcher gives a low snarl and steps forward to take his effects. All it takes is a solid thump to the sternum and he stumbles back with a wheeze, gripping his ribs. “Fuck,” he groans.

 “Bruised, likely broken ribs,” you list off. “A fever - again - that lovely infected bite wound, and gods know how you got scraped up like that. Please, Geralt, elaborate on how that’s ‘fine’?”

 Geralt’s stare is hard and a little dangerous, but you just straighten your spine and glower back. He steps forward and you counter.  “I’ll put you on your ass,” you threaten.

 “I’d like to see you try.”

 “With you like this? Wouldn’t be hard.”

 He actually growls at you. “Would you stop fucking around?”

 “I’m not. “

 “Give me my gods damn sword – “

 “No – “

 “Fucking hand it over.”

 “No!” you bark. The witcher looks nearly ready to throttle you, but you barrel on, “For fuck’s sake, you’re about to keel over. You want to fall off Roach and break an arm, too, is that it?”

 Geralt exhales on an irritated huff, nostrils flaring, but then you see him sway. He grips the edge of a table and sits down, hard. You set the sword belt down and kneel between his splayed legs; anger and concern mix sourly in your stomach when you cup his face gently in your hands. His skin is clammy, so very stark against your brown skin, and hot to the touch all over again. “Geralt – “

 “Stop,” he grumbles, pulling his face from your grip. He’s back to the no eye contact. “I don’t… you shouldn’t have to do this. Shouldn’t be mopping up my blood.”

 You have to bite your tongue briefly to keep yourself from lashing him with it. Gods, you could shake him. Instead, you huff out an irritable sigh and grip the witcher by the chin, turning his face back to you. He keeps his eyes averted.

 “Look at me.”

 He does not, the shit.

 “Gods would you – can you stop being a shitheel for two seconds and look at me?” you gripe.

 He gives a very displeased rumble, but finally lifts his eyes.

 “I want you to listen to me, Geralt of Rivia,” you tell him. “And get this through your thick head: I want you here. I always want you here. It brings me… peace when you walk through that door, and I miss you so gods damned much every time you go. I want you here. With me.”

 You smirk, and add, “Blood or no blood.”

 Geralt’s mouth barely twitches up at one corner. It’s enough to make your countenance go soft. You sigh and lean in, closing your eyes as you press your forehead gently to his. Geralt’s fingertips skate briefly over your cheek, and you let his warm breath ghost over your face for a few moments before you open your eyes and sit back on your haunches.

 “Stay,” you whisper. “Let me take care of you.”

 You see some of the tension bleed out of his frame. He finally nods.

 Getting him back upstairs is slow going. He doesn’t grimace as much when you strip him out of his armor and clothes, but he’s still burning up when you get him laying down on the bed. You give him more of the willow bark concoction and retrieve a basin of cool water and a cloth. A few crushed stalks of dried lavender go into the water and you kneel on the floor close to the head of the bed. Geralt’s eyes slip shut as you gently mop his brow with the cool scented cloth.

 “Go back to sleep,” you murmur to him. “I’ll be here.”

 Pretty gold eyes blink open to stare blearily up at you. He brushes his knuckles gently over your jaw, offers one of his almost-smiles, and is dead to the world in no time. You stay where you are until your calves start to go a little numb, but by then the high, feverish color in Geralt’s cheeks has dissipated. Gently, you press the cool compress over his forehead, neck and chest again before you set the cloth back in the basin. The witcher doesn’t so much as stir when you climb back into bed next to him, not until you brush your fingers gently over his cheek. Same as before, the contact seems to settle him – he sighs lowly in his sleep and curls closer to your body heat.

Your chest goes tight, squeezing around your heart even as it thunders against your ribs. “Shit,” you whisper, because of course.

Why not?

If you’re going to fall in love with anyone on this miserable continent, it might as well be this stubborn, white-haired prick.

You groan to yourself, pressing thumb and fingers against your closed eyes before you settle in next to the sleeping witcher. This is going to go great, is your last thought before sleep takes you.

#geralt of rivia #geralt x reader #geralt x you #geralt x woc reader #geralt x poc!reader #the witcher netflix #tutu scribbles #the wench and the witcher #fanfic #fanfiction

[elyccscorner]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Roach (The Witcher) Additional Tags: Worldbuilding, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, Friendship/Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No actual depiction of Violence but mentions of, Canon-typical bathing, Anti-Nonhuman sentiments, Bathhouses, Character Study, Tenderness, Apparently I have a thing for Geralt's hair, mood piece, Ficlet Summary:

This is how they meet: sometimes on the road, sometimes in a city, sometimes, well, someplace else. Fitting or not, destiny always has ways to bring Jaskier and Geralt together, even though sometimes it spoils Jaskier's plans for the night.

He doesn't mind. Outside it's cold and the pyres are burning and while there's nothing Jaskier can do against hatred and bigotry he can, for one single night, make a friend less cold, less worried and maybe just a little less ragged looking. Jaskier is singing a lot about Geralt, after all, and he can't have his audience think the witcher is nothing but an uncivilised creature living in caves, can he?

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Somehow I’ve never read this story - and it’s so FUCKING GOOD! Jaskier taking care of Geralt is the best!! <3

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #the witcher #witcher

[ao3feed-geralt-jaskier]

by Fayet

This is how they meet: sometimes on the road, sometimes in a city, sometimes, well, someplace else. Fitting or not, destiny has always ways to bring Jaskier and Geralt together, even though sometimes it spoils Jaskier's plans for the night.

He doesn't mind. Outside it's cold and the pyres are burning and while there's nothing Jaskier can do against hatred and bigotry he can, for one single night, make a friend less cold, less worried and maybe just a little less ragged looking. Jaskier is singing a lot about Geralt, after all, and he can't have his audience think the witcher is nothing but an uncivilised creature living in caves, can he?

Words: 10874, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Categories: M/M

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Roach (The Witcher)

Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion

Additional Tags: Worldbuilding, Pre-Slash, Pre-Relationship, Friendship/Love, Mild Hurt/Comfort, No actual depiction of Violence but mentions of, Canon-typical bathing, Anti-Nonhuman sentiments, Bathhouses, Character Study, Tenderness, Apparently I have a thing for Geralt's hair, mood piece, Ficlet

#IFTTT #ao3feed #fanfic #netflix the witcher #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #geraskier

[c0ffeebee]

and, while it's not my fandom I know you hopped onto it, do long-haired blonde Superman from Witcher?? talking about new shiny obsessions is always fun ;)

ok so geralt of rivia 💛 your description killed me xD

OTP for them: geraskier

BROTP for them: geralt and roach i guess (the purest kind of love is the love of this man for his horse)

Other ships: there isn't any for me?

What kind of tic I’d write about them: something about him being vulnerable and needing help, maybe wounded geralt and jaskier helping him get better, also i would want some fics about him going out of his way to fix things with jaskier and not be an asshole to him from then on

A favorite canon moment: hmmm, bath scene with jaskier, it was too funny and then got too serious real quick

Color that reminds me of them: white

Song that reminds me of them: oh my god i think don't have any yet except for "toss a coin" and "her sweet kiss" xD ok also kind of before you go by lewis capaldi but it's more of a geraskier song

A headcanon about them: he secretly craves human company, soft touch, socializing and etc, but has to act like he doesn't care for the image and for the fear of people around him getting hurt

A random AU I think up on the spot for them: grumpy scary quiet barista geralt, so scary in fact that no one wants to even go to that coffee shop to see his face first thing in the morning or you know..., and young musical student jaskier who goes to that coffee place every day and on geralt's shifts just talks to him non-stop even though it's more of a monolog than a dialog because geralt doesn't say much, but because of the way jaskier feels comfortable around geralt and because geralt becomes softer around jaskier (and geralt doesn't even know it himself) oh end also because jaskier sometimes plays and sings for customers people start to go to that place more often

Anything else: i want second season of the show to bring us more talkative and human geralt as he apparently was in the books

#bee answers #geralt of rivia #the witcher #takaraphoenix