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#witcher 2 spoilers
sebdoeswords · 1 year
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Hi have I ever told you how much I love Ves Witcher Games? How much I love her relationship with Vernon Roche?
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deannamb · 10 months
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Some Jaskier moments
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disdaidal · 9 months
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"I do not wish to fight you." THE WITCHER S03E06
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stevenrogered · 10 months
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You learned my song. My- my playing’s shit, and I did have a-
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endiness · 9 months
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jaskefer · 10 months
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Mimî M. Khayisa as Fringilla Vigo
THE WITCHER Season 3, Episode 4 - The Invitation
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renegadesstuff · 9 months
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Jaskier cheering on Geralt during his fight is just too cute 🥹🥺
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patroclusdefencesquad · 9 months
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literally no one fucking talk to me.
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princessofdorkness · 10 months
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Jaskier S1: Baby Boy. Baby.
Jaskier S2: Just A Little Guy.
Jaskier S3: SLUT (SO FUCKING AFFECTIONATE)
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shaunashipman · 9 months
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I saw a woman so beautiful I cried
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michsmeesh · 10 months
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i have been unable to stop thinking about these two since volume 1 dropped on friday and my witcher hyperfix just hit me again at full fucking force
in other words THEY FINALLY GAVE US THE QUEER POLY BARD WE DESERVED RAAAHHHHHHH
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glitteringpoet1685 · 1 month
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So uhh guess who just started reading the tower of the swallow 😀😀
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disdaidal · 9 months
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#cahir has such a big sub energy
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cherryjuicegf · 10 months
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He sees her last. After the blood and the gloom and the despair that plagued his sight, after the death and the wails and the pleas that teared at his chest, he sees her last.
Chaos, he thinks, has never looked more serene.
In another place, at another time, it would be beautiful.
Now Yennefer meets his eyes from across the hall and a sudden jolt shakes her whole and she runs, gods, she runs to him with such helplessness and relief that he knows he will welcome the most bruising hug, if it means it will keep her afloat. There is a weeping beauty in sadness, but not for her eyes. Never for her eyes.
As she buries her head in his shoulder, he feels her heart digging a hole in his chest. He holds her tight.
"Thank the gods," she whispers, as though to herself, "thank the gods you're alive."
In another place, at another time, he would make a joke, perhaps about the feeling not being mutual, just to steal a smile and a banter from her lips.
But he has no heart for that now. Not even for that.
He only has a chain clenched tight around his heart and gutting his voice in shame every time he opens his mouth to speak. "Yennefer, I–"
At once, she looks at him. "No words." As though she knows what he would say, as though she knows all he hasn't done, and mourns him anyway. She shakes her head, eyes huge and dark and pleading. "You can't stay here, it's dangerous. You have to go. You have to find Geralt."
"Yennefer, Yen– I know." His fingers dig into her arms and he can't bear to loosen his hold, he can't bear to let her go. Not yet. He smiles, soft. Leans to search for her eyes, for just a moment of peace in their turbulent current. "I just wanted to see my darling witch."
Yennefer stares at him for a moment, shoulders tense. Then, she huffs a laugh. Her expression softens, almost crumbles.
He feels her hands shaking where she holds him and the corners of her lips tremble as though with all the unspoken screams of the sea trapped into a single shell, wailing and weeping and waiting to be heard. He only wishes he had time to put her heart to his ear.
Her voice is quivering as she speaks. "I don't know where Ciri is," she says and it sounds like the complaint of a mother and a child crushed into one, like the world's cruelest crime, the earth's deepest regret, choked in swallowed tears. "I don't know where she is, I don't–"
She doesn't let her face break, as if she knows that when the bottle cracks, there will be no end or beginning, as if she knows he will only have to stay there, and hold her through it. And he cannot stay here between death's teeth.
She can't afford this too.
But he knows terror when he sees it in her eyes, for it is not frequent, and floods them with a different kind of darkness. It breaks his heart.
She looks at him for a moment deeply, in thought. Then she lets out a sharp breath. Quiet, exhausted. "Gods, Jaskier. I'm losing everything all over again. And then," she nods at him from tip to toe and laughs again, as though she finds it absurd, "here you are. Here you always are."
Maybe it sounds painful, because she winces.
Maybe she cannot bear looking at him, maybe in hope it will hurt less if she loses him. But Jaskier doesn't abandon her eyes, only stays there, because their violet melts just like then, just like that other time she was all bereft and scared and he got to see it, and knew. Yet again, a familiar kind of despair.
But, gods. What else could one make out of shared pain, except for love?
A tear flows down her cheek, and he wipes it away with his thumb before it shatters. He holds her face. "Hey. You are not in this fight alone." He swallows, voice thick, hand firm as though to caress the love on her skin and right into her. "Not anymore."
Oh, she has been alone for so long. So long that her first instinct is to disbelieve him, doubt him, squint. But it is only for a moment.
Because his thumb is still stroking her cheek clean of stray tears and her brows can only twitch in desperate acceptance as she slowly covers his hand with hers and leans into his touch, closes her eyes. Presses on, as though to memorize the shape of his palm when it's missing, as though asking of him to remember her shape.
Jaskier can't hear her, but feels her own voice in his head as he prays they don't become no more than a memory.
"We'll meet again." She looks at him again and now her voice is steadier.
It makes him smile. He will miss this. Offering a hand for her to lean into every now and then. Watching as she rises again, indelible.
A chuckle, as the curtain threatens to rise. "Eh, I wouldn't worry too much about that. Besides," he speaks softer now, like a lullaby, like a confession, "I could never be done with the likes of you, Yennefer of Vengerberg."
A promise.
And Yennefer smiles, through the tears, and shakes her head. How strange, how comforting. To fight so hard for a purpose, and to know the purpose is willing, at last, to fight back for you.
With a deep sigh, she raises her head. And there she is again. Solid, seething, like a burning hill. "Don't leave Geralt alone."
"You know I won't." Then, pleading. "Be strong."
He knows she will be. It's mostly to remind himself.
Slowly, their hands drop away, and he hopes the warmth of her touch lingers on his hand for a while.
"Be brave," she replies, but she knows too. "I won't be there to save you this time." Jaskier huffs, mostly to hold back tears. "Well, then," she continues, and her voice is suddenly strained in a half-laugh, half-sob, an attempt perhaps, to seal the promise back. "Goodbye. Good luck–"
Only, she can't.
Her voice dies in her throat, and she presses her lips together, in refusal, in grief. Her eyes are wet again.
Jaskier lets out a silent gasp and shakes his head, pulling her close one last time, tighter than before. This is too much. He can't ask for too much. So he only lets her steal some breaths from his chest before he lets her go, and places a kiss on her head.
He feels her holding her breath, or his, as she pulls back and silently looks at him one last time.
And then, like a cord snapping in two, she turns around and walks outside the room. She doesn't look back.
And Jaskier watches numb. Her form disappears behind the walls and he stands wrecked, a sob threatening to rip his throat apart.
Broken, trembling, he smiles at her remaining memory, and decides to seal her promise himself. "Good riddance."
His voice echoes back to him in the empty hall.
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endiness · 9 months
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Who would ever want to be king?
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dadralt · 10 months
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s3 geralt + emojis
bonus:
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