#both need Geralt to save them both have jobs in novigrad it works

[clown-of-rivia]

ANGST IDEA OF THE DAY ft. Bard

Jaskier is the result of an affair. His parents were an arranged marriage and his young mother hated his father. She fell in love with an elven blacksmith and got pregnant.

When Julian was born the Vicount Panktraz had the boy's ears cut round to hide it

[geraskierficrecs]

Part One 

Sorry for the long delays, but Tumblr ate the story the first time I posted so I had to rewrite.

Watching Jaskier run from the house with devastation carved into his face hurt worse than any blow he’d been dealt.

Geralt started forward, numb legs sluggish with a grief too terrible to bear, but familiar hands pulled him to a stop.

“Don’t--” Yennefer’s voice was rough with her own demons, but she clung to him with determination in her strange eyes, “--we had to do this.”

“Did you see him?” he snarled, trying to summon anger in an effort to push aside the reality of all he’d just broken.  “He--he’s...”

“It’s the only way to keep him safe.”

“He’ll never forgive me.”

Yennefer opened her mouth, but it was another voice who answered him.

“How could you?” They both turned to see Ciri standing next to the doorway Jaskier had disappeared through with a cold fury in her eyes.  “He trusted you.  He trusted both of you!”

He loved you, she didn’t say.  They already knew.

“Ciri...” Yennefer began, but Ciri shook her head.

“How many times will you break his heart before you’re satisfied?” Ciri hissed and Geralt flinched like she’d struck him.

His tongue felt thick in his mouth and he could feel his eyes burning at the thought of how easy it had been to destroy everything they had built with Jaskier here.  Geralt tried to remember the way Jaskier had smiled at him--wide and trusting--just that morning when he’d declared that he was heading into town to get some things from the market.  Already the house felt empty, cracks appearing in the walls like without the bard to hold it together the house began to fall apart.

If he closed his eyes he knew he would see the look in Jaskier’s eyes the moment he’d seen Yennefer and Geralt.  It had been so easy for him to believe the worst.

“It’s not what you think,” Yennefer tried again, hands held out to match the pleading in her expression.  “We’re trying to save him.”

Ciri’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits and Geralt wondered if she would attack them for what they’d done.  “What is there left to save?  You’ve taken everything.”

His child surprise didn’t give them a chance to respond.  She just turned on her heel and left the house to chase after Jaskier.  After a beat, Yennefer followed.

Geralt stayed behind, listening to the ghosts of his own happiness die in the silence of the empty house.

_____________________________________________________________________

It started with a whisper.

“They’re coming for you, Witcher.”

Geralt hadn’t taken the dying words of the hag to heart.  It wasn’t the first time one of the creatures he’d hunted promised revenge with their dying breath and he knew it wouldn’t be the last.  His mind had been full of anticipation for returning home to his family.  To Jaskier.

The next mention had been a fluke.

He’d been passing through a town and, through habit, checked the message boards for any odd jobs he could complete for a little extra money on his way to Novigrad for work.  There had been a few of the usual missives from locals searching for missing livestock or begging for someone to assist in work.  He scanned them without interest until his eyes settled on a rough piece of parchment, faded by the weather.

At the center of the page was a roughly drawn medallion that burned with dark flames.  The page made no mention of any work or needs, just the strange symbol and a short message beneath.

Feras morte.

Death to monsters.

Geralt stared at it for another moment before carefully pulling the page free from the message board and tucking it into his pack.  He resolved to find out more while he was Novigrad.

____________________________________________________________________

They called themselves The Order.

They were the kind of fanatical movement that made Geralt want to avoid humanity for good.  Their focus had originally been altruistic--to protect humanity from the beasts and magical nightmares that roamed the land when Witchers didn’t arrive fast enough.  They traveled in groups to areas plagued by barghest and noon wraiths had terrorized villagers.  Through luck and growing skill, they began to make a name for themselves as champions of the people--a more palatable alternative to calling a Witcher for assistance.

With their popularity growing, a more sinister element of their beliefs became more obvious.  Since the first Witcher had stepped foot on the Continent, they’d been targeted almost immediately for their unnatural new biology and abilities.  Geralt had been run out of more than a few cities just because of the odd color of his eyes so the news that a group of human labeled his Witcher brethren in the same categories as the monsters they hunted wasn’t surprising.

Whatever the Order’s altruistic intents originally, they had wandered into darker realms once they gained a following.

Anything that was not fully human was considered a threat.  For the first time in centuries, the Continent was home to witch burnings and mob attacks on children born with strange birthmarks or eerie features.  They followed the path of wars and fed on the bitterness that lingered among the survivors.  The Order gave the people of the Continent a new target for their anger.

Monsters--though the term became more flexible the longer they were around.

His contacts in Novigrad weren’t sure where the group had begun, but it was easy to track where they’d moved from the trail of bodies left in their wake.  Dopplers.  Hags.  Hedgewitches.  All burned to ash on massive pyres left at the edges of each village as a warning to the next--along with anyone foolish enough to try to protect them.

Geralt’s disdain for the blatant abuses of power and widespread violence slowly became tempered by a new fear.  The Order seem able to move as they wanted without any response from local leaders too afraid of risking their wrath.  They seemed an unstoppable force eager to continue their bloody crusade against anyone or anything that did not meet their standards for purity and innocence.

He was in Temeria when he found the dead Witcher.

There was little left of the warrior aside from burnt, tarnished medallion that had once hung proudly from his neck and the steel sword he must have wielded.

Silver for monsters.  Steel for humans.

The blade had been shattered into two pieces that were tossed alongside the burning remains of his bones.  Geralt crouched beside it, hands passing over the scarred metal and meager remains of a life spent fighting for people who’d turned on him just as easily.

“Did you know him?”

Geralt turned at the soft voice, frowning at the woman standing at the edge of the trees.  Her face was marked with age and deep sadness that seemed unending. 

“No,” he said gruffly.

She hummed, looking back at the pyre.  “Perhaps it’s better that way.”

“Why’s that?”

The hand that trembled out was blackened along the fingertips with ash as she pointed toward the smoldering pit.  “Those he loved lay there beside him.”

Geralt froze, something like horror in his expression.  He looked back at the pyre once more, eyes picking out the bits of bones. “What?”

“That’s how the Order got him to surrender,” she said, “They told him they would spare the woman--Anna--and her child that he liked to visit in the village.  He’d saved them from the creature who’d taken the girl’s father, you see, and he liked to check up on them whenever he passed by.  Sirret was a gentle soul despite his calling--he only wanted to make sure they were safe.  So he threw down his sword without a fight when the Order called for it and let them beat him and drag him through the town to the sounds of their mockery.”

“Then they killed him.”  Geralt’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword until his knuckles went white.

The old woman’s eyes were dark with tragedy.  “They killed the girl first, after a time.  Then the mother was put out of her misery when her injuries became too much.  Sirret...the Witcher held on for much longer.”

The broken sword suddenly seemed as morbid as a tomb.

He took a breath full of smoke and death and tried not to think about a bard choking on blood and a foolish wish.  “Where did the Order go?”

____________________________________________________________________

“They’re too close.  We need to do something.”

“What can we do that we haven’t already tried?” Geralt snapped, “I’ve been hunting them for months, but all I’ve managed to do is kill off a few of their soldiers.”

He carefully didn’t think about the promises they’d spat at him as they lay dying.  Promises of pain and suffering beyond what anyone should bear.

Yennefer tossed back the last of the wine in her goblet and scowled down at the mess of messages, maps, and bits of notes sprawled across the table.  They’d met at the tavern in the city closest to their cottage in an effort to keep the information far away from Jaskier and Ciri’s wandering eyes.  So far, it hadn’t seemed to help.

Yenn had been the only one he’d dared to tell about the Order--as though admitting their presence would allow them to creep closer.  Her contacts through Aretuza had made it easier to track where the Order had been most active, but continued to offer no solutions as to how to stop them.  Ciri and Jaskier were far too important to risk as targets in someone’s campaign to destroy everything they considered dangerous.

“Whoever they are, they’re going to come for us soon.  You know this.  They know we’re hunting them--that makes us a threat.”  Yennefer’s voice was firm despite the anxiety he could sense hanging in the air around them.

Geralt didn't respond.  It was the same argument they’d been having for weeks.  How could they protect Jaskier and Ciri from these horrors?

“Ciri will have to stay with us--she’s too valuable to risk letting them get their hands on her.  They’d probably consider her to be a ‘tainted’ bloodline anyway.”

“And Jaskier?” he bit out, “Do you intend to leave him behind while you run off with Ciri?”

Yenn glared at him.  “You know I don’t.”

Whatever their relationship might have been at one time, the mage and the bard were practically inseparable now.

Geralt scrubbed a hand over his face and sighed.  “We can’t let the Order torture him to try to hurt us.  He has to be safe.”

The burnt Witcher’s medallion in his pack seemed to laugh at him.

“There’s...” Yennefer sounded oddly reticent and he looked over at her curiously, “We could make Jaskier leave us.”

He shook his head.  “He would never do that.  Especially if he knew that we were in danger.”

“So we don’t let him know the Order is after us.”

“And say what? ‘Hey Jask..why don’t you stay at the University for the season?’  He’s not an idiot--he’d want to know why.”

Yennefer ran a finger over a drop of wine left on the table, face downcast.  “What if we made him want to leave?”

________________________________________________________________

Days later, Geralt watched Jaskier run out of the house and pretended it didn’t feel like his world was burning down around him.

[terresdebrume]

The Witcher - Favorite Reads Masterpost

So, the previous one was getting really super long and Tumblr refused to save the latest update three times, which I’m taking to mean I’ve reached some kind of length limit. In view of that, and with a poke to @nyliekeo​ who asked to be tagged, here’s the second volume of my Witcher fic-reading adventures!

(Pretty much all Geraskier, because I’m only a multishipper in the sense that I have many ships across many fandoms.)

Volume 1

Last updated: April 10th, 2020.

Non geraskier fic

Her Current Is Pulling You Closer - TheMarvellousMadMadamMim

Specs: 1 900 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Eist/Calanthe - Swimming, shameless flirting

Summary: After nearly three years of marriage, Eist Tuirseach realizes there are still things to learn about his wife.

Becoming Water - Orockthro

Specs: 3 456 words - Mature - Trans woman!Geralt, curses, happy ending

Summary:  When Geralt was a child his mother kissed his forehead, wove flowers in his hair, and let him dance around the campsite they shared with the other druids. He loved dancing, the way his body moved and flowed; he was like water.

And then she left him in the road, spilled water on his feet, and a faint trail of dust where she and the cart were no longer. And a man came and took Geralt and made him into something new.

“Were you short? Waifish? Did those witcher mutagens turn you into, you know, the hulking sexy man that you are? At least they gave you such male perfection, what with the stubble and the jaw and the--”

“Shut up, Jaskier.”

(Or, Geralt is cursed with a female body during their travels. Only it's not so much a curse as a gift she didn't know she so desperately desired until now.)

of cockroaches and men - Potrix

Specs: 1 442 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Yennefer & Jaskier, Getting to know each other, BAMF Jaskier

Summary: As if being stuck waiting for her supplier in this sorry excuse for a town full of narrow-minded, superstitious simpletons isn't already frustrating enough, the first familiar face Yennefer spots when she walks into the grubby tavern is that of her least favourite bard.

Or, alternatively; sometimes you misjudge people, but there's nothing some badassery and booze won't fix.

all cooped up - alittlebitmaybe

Specs: 4 205 words - Mature - Polyamory, Pandemic 2020, Non-explicit sex, instigator Yen

Summary: Geralt's old university roommate, Jaskier, needs a place to ride out the pandemic. Geralt and Yennefer conveniently have a couch and Geralt, inconveniently, has a crush.

Cover it over and write it out - TheArcheologist

Specs: 3 214 words - Mature - Dyslexia, implied child abuse, Dandelion is a noble

Summary: There is something Geralt has noticed, after traveling so long with Jaskier. It is nothing major, nothing world ending or even warranting bringing up, but it is there, nonetheless, a funny little habit he can’t unsee.

“You’re better at this stuff than me, Geralt, you read it.”

Geraskier fics

pride - Besully (Briar_Elwood)

Specs: 737 words - Teen & Up - Trans Jaskier

Summary: Geraskier Week Dealer's Choice

He only manages to get the shirt untucked from the bard’s trousers when Jaskier’s smile disappears, and he scrambles backwards, holding the edges of his shirt down.

Do It Again - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 6 771 words - Explicit - Time Loop

Summary: By the twentieth time Geralt has gone through the loop, he decides to just throw himself off the cliff’s edge after Borch.

He wakes up to his twenty-first attempt.

“Fuck.”

Interlude; The End of All Things - TabbyCat33098

Specs: 3 496 words - General Audiences - Growing Old Together

Summary: Geralt realizes Jaskier is growing old and tries his best to return the rest of Jaskier's life to him. If only Jaskier would cooperate and take it.

//

How much longer will Jaskier be content with weathering the elements and contending with the uncertainty of mercenary work? How long until Jaskier realizes that in devoting himself to crafting a legacy for Geralt, he has forgotten to create a legacy of his own?

After all, he does not have a wife or children, for their nomadic lifestyle is conducive to neither. He has no home to return to between stints with Geralt, whether a sprawling mansion vaunting his wealth or a comfortable cottage replete with souvenirs from his varied exploits. How many experiences has Jaskier sacrificed because some contract or irate nobleman drew them elsewhere? How many untouched fields of snow has Jaskier never seen; how many harvests at Novigrad has he yearned to celebrate from halfway across the Continent—

“You’re staring,” Jaskier points out.

“You wanted to go to the Kovirian coast,” Geralt responds. 

a tapestry of scars - splendidlyimperfect

Specs: 7 688 words - Mature - Modern AU, Birpolar disorder, self harm, references to previous suicide attempt and car accident.

Summary: Jaskier comes into Geralt's life on a sunny afternoon in May - wide smiles and baby blue eyes; breathtaking stories and half-written song lyrics. He's mesmerizing and full of life, and Geralt can't look away. But sunshine doesn't last forever, and when Jaskier disappears, Geralt learns that beautiful things have dark and broken pieces, and even damaged people can help fix them.

Summer Mornings - The UnamazingTrashKing

Specs: 3 241 words - Mature - Fluff

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier are sort of a couple. They definitely wake up together and talk about spending the rest of their lives together.

An Incomplete Happiness - BlossomsintheMist

Specs: 22 497 words - Mature - Serious injuries, injuries recovery, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension

Summary: Jaskier is traveling with Geralt when a hunt goes badly wrong and Geralt ends up injured.  Geralt soon realizes that the bard can take care of Geralt better than he'd realized, in his own way.

Hide Behind The Mound of Dead Bards - Bones (Doctorbones)

Specs: 17 296 words - Explicit - Temporary character death, Graphic depiction of violence

Summary: Jaskier is really bad at two things: shutting up and staying dead. Luckily, he can do both at the same time...for a while.

faith in transience - unconscious

Specs: 12 532 words - Explicit - Monster of the week, Service top Jaskier, attempted mind control.

Summary:  “I learn stuff about you to enrich my songs, thanks very much.”  Geralt starts.

“Like what?”

Jaskier strums a chord. “Plenty of things. You always ask the contractor if they want the head or not instead of just showing up with it, because you don’t want to shock people. You eat normal amounts of food when eating in public, instead of your usual awe-inducing giant amount. You sleep more when you’re hurt, but that’s the only way I’d ever know. You’re a bit weird about your potions and you count them a lot.” He glances up and grins. “Shall I continue?”

A handful of contracts go sideways. Recovering is easier with Jaskier there.

when midnight breaks their sleep - SummerFrost

Specs: 16 736 words - Mature - Modern setting, polyamory, polyamory negociation

Summary:   The first Snapchat that anyone ever sends Geralt is a picture of his own irritated face.

shrike_princess: can u believe this dumbass finally got a snapchat bc a cute boy asked him nicely

"It wasn't even that nicely," Geralt says flatly.

AKA: The one where Geralt is a bartender and Jaskier sings karaoke.

he, who i love - kinneyb

Specs: 1 279 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Summary: Jaskier looked forward to these nights the most; he was playing in a rundown tavern in a small town near the coast, coins gathered at his feet, knowing that at any moment Geralt would come bursting through the door.

He spun on his heels, strumming his lute with nimble fingers, the mark of a practiced player.

Jaskier had thought he’d reached his peak when he was younger. He had been proven wrong, of course, practice truly did make perfect. He was getting more attention than ever, and only half of it probably had to do with his new songs, all depicting the Witcher’s love story with a bard of the human variety.

He never directly mentioned himself, but the people had made the connection fairly easily, anyway.

Near the Coast - IantoPace

Specs: 2 164 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Dresses

Summary: Geralt finds out some of the feminine things Jaskier likes. This is inspired by the images of Joey Batey & Madeleine Hyland in the woods wearing each other's clothes.

Shoot First, Ask Questions Later - Ladivviniatravestia

Specs: 3 427 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Defining the relationship

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier fuck, then try to define their relationship.  Too bad Geralt has no idea what he really wants and Jaskier has been hiding something.

parry, riposte - plutoandpersephone

Specs: 5 230 words - Explicit - Established relationship, competence kink, power dynamics

Summary: "How about it?"

Geralt looks at Jaskier like he’s just started to speak in some long lost, foreign tongue.

"You want to take me on in the sword ring?"

-

Jaskier challenges Geralt to a bout in the fencing ring. They both get more than they bargained for.

The Coast - NinjaSniperKitty

Specs: 1 856 words - General Audiences - Established relationship, overly protective boyfriend!Geralt

Summary: Geralt takes Jaskier up on his offer to get away and go to the coast for a while. While Geralt sees danger hiding everywhere along the coast, Jaskier hasn't been to the sea in years and only sees a good time!

Sweet, Silky, Soft, and Shiny - Girl_in_Red_Crossing

Specs: 3 251 words - Mature - Inappropriate use of candy

Summary: Just a couple of bros, sucking on sweet things... sharing silky things... lying in soft beds together... (kissing)...

The Witcher Wolf 2: Geralt’s POV - im_fairly_witty.

Specs: 15 338 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Animal transformation

Summary: It's been two weeks since Geralt drove Jaskier away from him on that mountain top and Geralt's been doing his best not to think about it by accepting every contract he comes across. But when a job goes badly he find himself cursed into the form of an injured wolf and is then saved by none other than Jaskier himself, who has no idea that the animal he's taken under his wing is his own witcher. Geralt must now try to alert Jaskier to his real situation and adjust to his new life traveling with the bard, learning several hard but very much needed lessons along the way.

Shadowplay - sospes

Specs: 26 539 words - Mature - BAMF!Jaskier, Espionnage

Summary: Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

An Old Man’s Tale - NotebooksandLaptops

Specs: 1 448 words - General Audiences - External POV, Old age

Summary: At the edge of the village, in a house surrounded by wild-flowers and weeds - re-built from its former crumbling foundations – there lived the Old Man. He’d earnt the rights for the capital O, capital M off of the rest of the villagers barely a week after he’d moved into their humble world. For he had not grown up here, like everyone else did. Yet he settled and settled as if he had always been there. He wandered the cliffsides, the beaches, the streets. He strung shells together and gifted them to the ladies of the village with a wink that betrayed the charming young man he once must have been. He bought the little ceramic pots Alicja sold on the market, and he filled them with weeds as if the weeds were flowers worth showcasing. And – most importantly – he sang.

-///-

Or, Jaskier settles in a costal village towards the end of his life.

For The Joy Of It - vvitchering (Witchering)

Specs: 848 words - Teen & Up Audiences - self esteem issues, body image

Summary: After spending years on The Path together, Jaskier and Geralt finally settle down. Jaskier notices one day that his new sedentary lifestyle has changed him in ways he fears Geralt won't accept.

The Silence Between Heartbeats - anarchycox

Specs: 7 969 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Jskier knows Geralt better than anyone

Summary: Geralt faced off with a sorceress, only instead of her magic killing him, it stole his voice. But this should be an easy fix, he knew many women who could heal this. But that would mean anyone noticing something wrong. He knew he was quiet, but seriously, did no one wonder why he wasn't saying a single thing? Months he traveled silent, no one noticing and it was driving him mad.

Until he runs into Jaskier, who notices immediately that something is wrong.Because of course it is Jaskier.

Who else in the end would it be, who properly saw the White Wolf?

tailored - jeannie_tangerine

Specs: 4 874 words - Explicit - Geralt has a kink and Jaskier is absolutely into it.

Summary: in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt has a kink and is more than glad to indulge it.

oh darling please be mine - kickassfu

Specs: 749 words - General Audiences - Introspective, fluff

Summary: Geralt’s head turns to him just as he’s jumping into his arms. Obviously, he catches Jaskier, in his very strong, very big arms. Still probably processing what’s happening, Geralt’s body is tense, unmoving. Jaskier doesn’t care.

New Monsters Stories - Kathkin

Specs: 20 209 words - Explicit - Urban fantasy, mutual pining

Summary:  “So do you have a name?”

“Yeah.” The man who had saved his life less than an hour ago – the white-haired, absurdly buff, weirdly sexy man Jaskier might have called taciturn if he was feeling charitable and surly if he was feeling less so – dug into his second burger.

Jaskier waited. “Are… you going to tell me what it is?”

The man paused mid-bite, and looked at him reproachfully as if to say how dare you. How dare you interrupt me. Can’t you see I’m enjoying my cheeseburger. Can’t you see this cheeseburger is the most important thing in my life right at the moment. He swallowed, and said, “Geralt.”

It turns out almost getting eaten by a werewolf can make your whole life go careening off in a new, terrifying, wondrous, artistically flourishing direction. Who knew?

Professor Pankratz - martistarfighter

Specs: 1 147 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Established relationship

Sumary:  “Come teach my class with me tomorrow.” He whispers in the witcher’s ear. He’s sporting a neatly trimmed beard these days, and it tickles Geralt’s neck in the most tempting way.

Geralt chuckles dryly, but the lack of an immediate quip tells him that Jaskier is serious. It’s a little scary how often they can read their minds by now.

“Don’t think so. You’re the teacher, Jask. I’ve got nothing to tell them.”

“But you’re the reason I’m still alive and teaching in the first place. Besides, you can just sit there, look pretty and answer some questions. My students have heard a lot about you, they’ll adore you.”

As someone pointed out, there's too much 'witcher watching out for his idiot' and not enough 'the witcher is a himbo who loves his college educated bard husband, who is qualified to teach' content out there. So I'm fixing it with a self-indulgent ficlet!

and i plan to be forgotten when i’m gone (yes, i’ll be leaving in the fall) - Stockholm_Syndrome

Specs: 18 083 words - Mature - Discussion of assisted suicide, discussion of suicide, depression, curse, no MCD

Summary: “That was more emotional than I expected.” He finally said “I didn’t think I’d have time to share this with you, and I.” Jaskier interrupted himself, as if unsure if he should continue. “I suppose I didn’t think it would upset you so.”

“Jaskier” Geralt growled, not able to express how ludicrous that idea was.

“Yes, I suppose I was wrong there.” Jaskier replied with a helpless shrug.

---- Or, Jaskier is cursed to turn into a monster. He doesn't think this is important information to mention.

Chopsticks - thisgirlsays22

Specs: 12 175 words - Explicit - Piano teacher!Jaskier, friends to lovers, modern setting

Summary: “Yennefer sent me a check for eight lessons for you,” Jaskier said the following weekend, wearing a beige button-down with--

“Does your shirt have owls on it?” Geralt asked, caught somewhere between amusement and horror.

Jaskier looked down and tugged on the front of his shirt as if he had to remind himself what was on it. He beamed at Geralt. “Yeah! Do you like it?”

“Not particularly.”

The smile swiftly disappeared.

“It’s not terrible,” he amended, stepping back to let Jaskier inside the apartment. Then Jaskier’s initial words sank in. “Wait. Yen did what?”

Hanging up on Yennefer was always a mistake.

what’s in a (pet) name? - janie_tangerine

Specs: 1 415 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, pet names

Summary:  "So," he clears his throat one evening, having just rinsed Geralt's now clean, soft white hair, and damn how he wishes the man would just take care of it somewhat decently, "I was wondering."

"What?" Geralt says after he doesn't go on for a bit. It didn't sound particularly annoyed. Right on.

"This is a very broad question, but I was just curious, no need to answer if you don't want to -" Jaskier starts, having learned that giving the man a way out is always a good bet.

"Just get on with it, won't you?"

Jaskier clears his throat, leans down, puts his elbows on the rim of the tub. "How do you feel about pet names?"

Or: in which Jaskier has a question for Geralt. It doesn't get answered the way he had assumed.

As Long As You Were Mine For A Little While - whisperedstories

Specs: 12 815 words - Explicit - Friends with benefits, mutual pining

Summary: It starts with Jaskier offering a helping hand when Geralt needs to let off some steam. The thing is, Jaskier likes taking care of Geralt—however he can—and Geralt lets him, so he just keeps doing it.

And as long as they never talk about how he's in love with Geralt, they're both happy with the arrangement, right? Right.

Of Debt and Debtors - sp_oops

Specs: 5 136 words - Explicit - Semi-public sex

Summary: Two bros, chillin' in a ta-vern, five feet apart ‘cause they—fuck, they really missed each other, not that Geralt will ever admit it—and anyway, in a minute here, they're gonna have to get closer than they ever thought possible. (Or, sometime after Episode 6, they meet again, Jaskier’s in trouble again, and Geralt saves them. Again.)

This One I Shall Choose - DorkMagician

Specs: 3 751 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Quiet pining, the exact moment Geralt falls in love

Summary: Geralt falls in the river fishing for a djinn and winds up soaked. Jaskier sees the opportunity to do as his mother told him a long time ago and takes the first step when he offers Geralt his handkerchief.

Skin Deep - Sospes

Specs: 8 935 words- Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, getting together, non consensual tattooing, implied/referenced rape, implied/referenced childhood abuse

Summary: “What’s that?” Geralt asks.

Jaskier blinks. “It’s a tattoo,” he says. “Have you never seen a tattoo before, Geralt?”

Geralt fights the urge to roll his eyes. “I know it’s a tattoo,” he says. “What’s it a tattoo of?”

They say there are 5 ways to show your love (and I don’t know any of them) - Mayathelittlebee

Specs: 5 989 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Fluff, humor

Summary: May be if Geralt stopped being so dramatic for a moment he'd finally realize that loving Jaskier is not as hard as he thinks.

I don’t mind if I’m with you - janie_tangerine

Specs: 11 152 words - Explicit - In which Jaskier has to quelle his murder instincts concerning how much Geralt’s life sucks

Summary: or: five times plus one in which Jaskier finds out that Geralt is missing on good life experiences and promptly sees to fix it.

Fill Me Up - Mysticmajestic

Specs: 402 words - Teen & Up Audiences - Romance

Summary: Geralt only knows how to give, and give, until he's empty. What is he to do with Jaskier, who only wants to give back to him?

Little Things - QueenForADay

Specs: 3 315 words - General Audiences - Domestic fluff, Ciri ships it

Summary: In the first few months of knowing the Witcher, he experienced first-hand how shut-off Geralt could be with the world around him and those within it.

At some point, and he can’t pinpoint where, that shroud started to slip away. He saw how much Geralt could, and does, actually care. It’s as fierce as the way he fights.

They spend a great deal of time watching each other; when they finally fell into a bed together, they spent most of their nights learning what the other liked, mapping the plains of skin and muscle underneath the other.

But it’s the other things, the little things, that Jaskier thinks about the most.

O, Empathy - almostnectarine

Specs: 32 624 words - Mature - Body swap, friends to lovers, questfic

Summary: “How did you manage,” asked Geralt, with infinite patience and only a desire to know the facts, and not at all a little meanhearted glee, “to insult a sorcerer while his tongue was down your throat?”

“Don’t make me recount the entire sordid affair, Geralt,” said Jaskier, with a surprising note of desperation breaking through his gruff monotone. “I’m already having a rather shit day and all I’ve done so far is wake up.”

“In my body,” said Geralt.

“Yes,” said Jaskier, with the insolent cadence that was unmistakably Jaskier’s, but in Geralt’s voice, emerging from Geralt’s face and frame.

“And I’ve got yours,” said Geralt, from Jaskier’s.

and for that love to be with men - sebviathan

Specs: 6 734 words -Mature - Emotional constipation, self discovery, self acceptance, geralt is a whole ass gay man who doesn’t know what being gay is

Summary: Something's not right about what I'm doing but I'm still doing it—living in the worst parts, ruining myself. My inner life is a sheet of black glass. If I fell through the floor I would keep falling.

The enormity of Geralt's desire disgusts him.

at last, at last, at last, oh I thought you’d never ask - elegantwings

Specs: 15 040 words - Explicit - Arranged marriage, slow burn, trans!Jaskier, in this house we love Yennefer of Vengerberg

Summary: Geralt is given firm instructions from Vesemir: He is to get married to a Redanian noblewoman in the hopes of improving relations between witchers and the rest of the world. Once the ceremony is over, he plans to drop his new spouse off at their new home and carry on with his life as he always has. Little does he know, his future wife is not a woman, and not so easily left behind. He's not really sure he'd like to get rid of Jaskier, either. Over the next several years, they learn to navigate their new relationship, first while Jaskier completes his degree, and then when Jaskier insists on accompanying him on the road. And no matter what anyone else has to say about it, Geralt is absolutely not in love with his husband.

it’s what my heart just yearns to say - chasing_the_sterek

Specs: 1 071 words - Teen & Up - Slice of life, Jaskier: what if I found a way to make Geralt admit when he needs things

Summary: "If you could have one blessing," Jaskier says, eyes lit green by the fire between them, "What would it be?"

Geralt looks at him. The whetstone is smooth and friction-warm in his palm, edges rounded from use. It's been with him for a long time: almost four years.

Jaskier has been with him for even longer, but he's never done this. Geralt squints at him, but only thing different to this morning is the yellow firelight changing the colour his eyes appear.

"What," he says.

not a goodbye, a thank you - Potrix

Specs: 2 915 words - Mature - Graphic depiction of illness, near death experience, talk about death, found family

Summary: Somewhere further in the courtyard, Lambert yells out a colourful curse while Ciri cackles maniacally. Eskel is taunting the former through his laughter, and Vesemir’s voice joins in with barked commands and corrections once the clang of steel against steel continues. Somewhere above them, on one of the balconies overlooking the yard, Geralt can hear the scratch of quill against parchment as Yennefer works on her correspondence, interrupted every now and again by the tapping of nails against an inkpot.

He realises what’s wrong an instant before everyone else grows suddenly, eerily still; Jaskier is quiet.

After Summers of Fasting (I Feel Hunger At Last) - Artemis_Unbound

Specs: 3 793 words - Teen & Up Audiences - A six pack you can see is not a good thing, Jaskier tricks Geralt into Not Being Starving anymore, Love confessions

Summary: Defined six-pack abs are a sign that someone has been starving and dehydrating themselves, not a sign of incredible strength. It's just not healthy.

Jaskier sees Geralt shirtless for the first time, sees all that defined musculature, and is Horrified. He's slept with enough warriors and soldiers to know what that means. And he decides, this stops now.

Tunes Without Words - foxy_mulder

Specs: 22 021 words - Mature - Self-esteem issues, past abuse, miscommunications, misunderstandings

Summary: The plan is this:

He will note all the things that annoy Geralt, and he will stop doing them, and then Geralt will want him around. It will work.

It has to work, because Jaskier cannot be left behind.

The Path Not Taken - sospes

Specs: 40 149 words - Mature - Extraordinarily bad misunderstanding, Idiots in love, Explicit sexual content

Summary: Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.

.

[seventfics]

Barking Dogs

Written for @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo

Prompt: Laundry day Relationships: Roche/Ves Rating: T (Swearing Language) Content Warnings: None Summary: Roche and Ves have a yelling match about her inappropriate vest, again.

Read on AO3

* * *

It’s laundry day in the Temerian resistance camp, and Roche is sewing up Ves’ vest.

“What the fuck are you doing to my clothes?!”

Half the members of the camp turn their heads at the high scream. The other half goes about their day, unfazed as their fearless commander shouts, “by the gods, woman, your cleavage is a menace on your life. I don’t fucking care if you stab me for fixing it myself, alright?!”

It's an hour of loud arguing back and forth, of Ves tearing new stitches free as Roche keeps slapping her hand away to re-stitch his work again.

By the time it starts raining—because gods forbid a single day be clear and sunny in Novigrad—the vest is a tattered mess, and everyone has gone inside their cave hideout to tarp up their things.

“Ves.”

“Bastard,” she spits heartily onto a puddle.

Roche sighs. “Ves.”

“What! That was a good vest and now it’s fucking ruined. I'll have to buy a new one.”

“I can cover the cost.”

“Hah! Like you’ll cover my breasts?!”

“Ves,” he sighs again. The rain has picked up enough that they’ve moved under a tree, both of them refusing to have this conversation in front of the other soldiers. “What don’t you understand about how armor works? I don’t want you to be reckless in the field with a huge open target.”

It’s the same argument they’ve been having for weeks now, since she’d jumped into a fight against heavily armored Nilfgaardians and her arse had been saved by the swing of Roche’s and Geralt’s interrupting swords. She’s sick of it.

“Don’t you trust that I’m aware of my huge open target?! That I don’t use it to my advantage, because it’s the first thing an attacker will go for?” Ves paces under the sagging tree's canopy, her boots muddied up to her ankles. “And what if I want to look good while I’m stabbing a man’s eye out for ogling me in the middle of the battlefield?!”

Roche rubs his face with both his hands. “That is the most unorthodox method of combat I’ve ever heard. It's ridiculous.”

“It works for me.”

“It worries me.”

“Why?” A scowl settles firmly on her face, but her heart beats fast, confused between a soldier’s shame and a friend’s concern. Lately, Roche treats her like she needs watching. Like she’s not a full grown adult with a body count to make her commander proud.

But his attention is also the most anyone’s ever given her, with respect to her ability and her strength. Not because she is a woman who knows how to fight, but because she is a person who knows how to fight well.

And he worries about her anyway.

“You know what, fine," she says before Roche gives a proper answer. "Here. You ‘fix’ this one and you promise to leave it alone after.”

For this, Ves takes off her only other vest, the one she wears, to hand over. Underneath it is just the thin trappings of a white undershirt soaked through. Might as well be shirtless at that point, with how uncomfortably itchy it makes her skin, so she throws that off as well with a frustrated growl.

As she stands there, topless in the rain, Roche nods a very serious and solemn, “fair,” and gets to stitching.

Ves blinks. She crosses her arms, the movement putting a slight lift on her chest, but Roche keeps working on the vest as if she weren’t the most beautiful, young woman this side of the Pontar river—in her humble and true opinion.

Plenty of the men at their own camp ogle, which they learn they can’t get away with. Being the only woman in Roche’s highest and most trusted command catches everyone by surprise the first time they meet her. But Roche never ogles. He grumbles under his breath, exasperated at everyone’s damn one-track minds. He never blames her for catching their attention either. He just grumbles.

“I don’t understand you,” she says harshly over his head. They’ve worked together for years and still she does not know his thoughts. There is no other man she would follow into battle, even if she disagrees with him lately.

No other man ignores her subtle flaunting so genuinely.

“Ves.” He lays her vest on his knee and looks up at her. His expression is serious, so she lets go of her anger for just a second to hear him. “I care about you. A great deal. Probably more than I should,” he mutters more to himself, but she catches the end of it and slaps his arm, laughing.

That's more like the old Roche she knows. The one who yells at recruits for not knowing a pike from a fucking halberd or how to wield either without poking someone's eye out. That's the Roche who will keep on yelling as he teaches the boys through trial and error, never giving up on them, though it would be a lot less trouble for him if he did.

“You’re a softie is why. Can’t help but pick up strays." She grins, all teeth. "Geralt thinks he picked you up, but we both know you're the one who roped him into your little circle of grouchy dogs.”

“You’re not a stray,” is his quieter huff.

“Yeah. A stray would leave. You can’t get rid of me.”

Roche smiles. He won't give up on her and she won't leave him alone. That's the price of loyalty, one they've willingly payed a dozen times over. Saving each other's arses is stubborn ingrained habit now.

She sits beside him, watching him carefully pin the last stitch of a thick underlayer of cloth to her vest that would cover her chest better. Not completely, she notices with a raised brow. He’s no tailor, but she might call the narrower opening of her vest tasteful—playing with her strategy for offensive distraction, while allowing more protective coverage.

He hands her the refurbished piece of armor and she hums, rubbing the damp thing between her fingers.

"Well it's not terrible, I guess." As she admires it, Roche startles her with the heavy throw of his overcoat over her shoulders. “Huh?”

“It’s raining, and you’re bloody cold,” he says, pointing at the very obvious indication of the chill on her chest.

“You were staring!” What would otherwise enrage her to learn, she laughs into the sleeves of Roche's soap-smelly coat. And if her face feels a little hot, she hides it with an admonishing, “Commander.”

He rolls his eyes so hard it hurts her head. “I’m not acting as your superior officer right now.”

“Roche,” she corrects. And stops, not quite knowing where to go from here.

It’s laundry day. It’s raining. Their clean shit is ruined and in need of a second evening's wash. Her vest is a thread mess and she’s holding Roche’s overcoat like a pillar of stone in unstable ground.

“So you care about me?”

“Of course I do. You’re—” Roche cuts himself off, glaring at the ground like enemy spies would spring up from it. Then his eyes move their glare to her. Her chest to be exact. It carries none of the usual interest a man would show her. Rather, it feels like he’s angry at some invisible affront her breast has caused him.

“I’m...?” Ves asks casually, though her face is beet red at his sudden staring.

“It’s complicated.”

“Fah! That's an understatement if I ever heard one. You ruin my clothes as a favor to me, offer to buy their replacement, do a decent job of actually stitching something up when that doesn't work, and then you glare daggers at my cleavage like it called your mother a whore. You're a complicated man.”

They could call him complicated. They could call him a foulmouthed, pigheaded worrywart. A man indifferent to her wiles, and someone she really, really wants to rile up with her wiles sometimes—right now, actually. If she could gather up the courage.

Well. Roche does always say she’s impulsive. And they are seated thigh to thigh, if only her stupid, blushing face didn't betray the air of coolness she is trying to wrap around herself.

So she kisses the corner of his lips, ending it with an almost nervous, “Was that complicated too?”

He leans back from her, his eyes wide in surprise. “A little." His voice is rough to her ears. "And...if I disappoint you?”

For a moment, her heart drops. A trickling fear called doubt grows in her head—that how he cares for her is not the way she does for him. That she's misunderstood something crucial in their closeness.

But his muted laugh sounds pained to her ears, like he thinks he isn’t enough in this. She wants to stop it.

Ves meets his eyes. She keeps their stare until the backdrop of the trees and the rain fades to nothing, and all she hears is his soft breathing. “You could never disappoint me. Send me into a blind fury when you turn laundry day into recreation time, maybe," she quips, "but not disappoint.”

He still looks unsure after, and to that, she takes his hand in hers and squeezes it.

She’s fought beside him when the odds were at their lowest. Even gone against him when things didn’t feel right, and taken her discipline afterwards with her head held high, like a soldier should. But to wrap her fingers over his, the way ordinary civilians do with each other, is not something she’s ever done. Her own hand shakes, clammy and unused to holding anything that isn't a weapon in their grip. It is a lot like his.

"I don't know what I'm doing," she says in a tone as if that's his fault. His low grumbling complains, "and you think I do?" at her, but he keeps their fingers linked tightly.

When they return to the hideout, half the camp looks up inquisitively, wondering why the commander doesn’t have the imprint of a fist on his face. The other half goes about their day, unfazed that their illustrious Ves is wearing the commander’s overcoat.

[suffering-and-happy-about-it]

...& Steel for Humans (Geralt x fem!Witchress, Part 2.)

Series description: The Butcher of Blaviken has a long and famous past, thanks to his friend Jaskier. Yet, neither of those dies easily and it still lurks behind Geralt like a shadow after all those years. History, neither unfriendly relationships, doesn't die easily.

Part summary: After a talk with your old friend, there is one thing - a contract which is supposed to keep you rich for at least other ten years. But there are things you are not going to like about is. 

A/N: Honestly, Dijsktra is one of my favourite in-game characters and I sincerely hope that he will make an appearence in the Netflix series. That mf is so fun honestly.

Tagging: (tell me and I will add you :)) @osgon-azure​ @davnwillcome

Word count: 2.1 K

Master list: H E R E

To your good luck, Dijkstra was very clear with the place of his staying - that fat rat was hiding at the Novigradian Bathhouse. You never held anything against Dijkstra - he was being a dick? You told him. That man knew famous non-humans like Geralt and even legends upon men, like Vernon Roche or the Redenian King Radovid. And he didn't hesitate to shove those connections into other people's faces. And you were one of them at that point.

So naturally, it didn't mean anything good when Dijkstra not only contacted you but knew where you were staying at the time. Novigrad was just three days of a slow ride on your horse and you didn't have anywhere to rush. Dijkstra only informed you, very kindly you must've said, that he would like to speak to you once you reach the city walls. It was for an important matter of saving lives or what.

Yeah, you weren't over your heels because of his demand. But you stopped in front of the famous bathhouse two days after the whole werewolf situation with a cape in your face. It wouldn't be exactly clever to walk around one of the biggest cities of the Northern Kingdoms just showing your face to everyone around you. Novigrad was looking just as you remembered it - it was dirty, it stank, beggars were on every corner and elf prostitutes only. That was the thing you didn't like on Novigrad. You had to be either a demon of a shapeshifter to cover that you're a non-human or you had to be a prostitute to be a non-human living in this city.

The cult of Eternal Flame was going nuts there. One of the priests even noticed that cats were hissing at you and that dogs ran away when your warhorse was driving through the streets and tried to verbally insult you and on top of that, he was calling you a heretic and a sinner. Instead of pinning him to a wall with your sword as a warning, you scoffed at his words and continued to Passiflora where you turned left. Not too long after that, you were standing in front of the bathhouse.

A bald man took your house, saying his name is Happen, and lead it to the nearby stable so the people there would take care of the poor animal. It needed some proper rest and some clear water, you couldn't deny that you weren't able to give your horse this kind of comfort on your travels.

To be honest, from the first moment you stepped in, you knew that the bathhouse stank. You hated those lingering, sweet smells that usually settled on the tip of your nose. Bathhouses usually used these scents because the humans found it more relaxing. Yet it was like a catalyzer for your damn nose - that was maybe for the first time in the last years when you sneezed. And it was damn uncomfortable.

Finding Sigismund wasn't exactly challenging - that man couldn't be ignored with the bright colors he tended to wear and with the size of his body. One of his legs also wasn't exactly in the best shape, so the limbing was quite easy to recognize when he was on the moe. At least to witchress's ears, it was unique.

Once you entered his office, you could see him sitting behind a table, going through some papers. You were quiet, so it took him a while to notice a caped person standing in the corner of the room. His face lit up with a smile that wasn't soothing nor comforting; he looked like a dick if you had to be honest.

"It is always a pleasure to see old friends. Have a seat with me, come on." - He said when you took the hood off and your face and white hair could be finally seen. You snorted when you sat down, taking a few grapes without even asking Dijkstra a word. He was quickly pouring you some of the sweet wine he had on the table but both of you knew that your lips won't even touch the drink.

"We aren't friends, Dijkstra. And also, it is never a good sign when you can find me without too much of trying." - A short answer to his greeting could be heard while your eyes scanned the books in his bookcases. Law things, political archives, some of the Novigrad's biggest family chronicles, nothing too extraordinary or interesting. Yet the Gwent packs caught your eye, so you took the Northern Kingdoms deck and started to go through it, looking at the cards with interest.

"Well, it didn't take too much of an effort to figure out that a witcher is in the Mire West currently. People talk and news spread quickly, don't forget about that. Especially quickly when you know who to ask for details." - The man slowly leaned into the chair behind his back while you turned your attention back to him, eating the grapes slowly.

"You torture people, you don't ask for details, Sigismund, don't you try to make me laugh because I am not in the mood for jests. You're just as much of a bitch as I am." - You smiled ironically, being tired of his little welcoming games. - "What is it that you need? Don't tell me that I came all the fucking way to Novigrad from Mire West just to see your fucking handsome face. And lemme tell you, you are fucking ugly."

At that, Sigismund laughed and shook his head. You two couldn't be exactly considered friends since everybody knew that you don't like Sigismund one bit. That wasn't too hard to understand - Sigismund was a spy who couldn't be trusted. But you two couldn't be even called enemies, since most of the time, you both stood at one side of a case - if you ever decided to take a stand in anything political.

"I have a friend in need and I told her that I will try to ask you for a helping hand." - He looked you in the eyes. Sigismund had a job... For a witchress? With that, you rose your eyebrows and furrowed. - "She offers you a ridiculous amount of coin - for searching and killing the source. And also invites you for a damn dance and pays for your stay Novigrad, no matter which inn you'd name." - He told very seriously so you could understand that Dijkstra isn't in a mood for games either.

"Damn. That must be a real matter of life and death if they're putting so much coin into it. What is going on?" - You asked and stole another grape from the small silver plate, putting the deck back on its place. You liked the grapes, they were sweet. Dijkstra surely had to offer them in Passiflora, the whorehouse just a while from Saint Gregory's bridge.

"No-one knows. We only know that whatever the fuck it is, it breaks trees and rocks like small wooden sticks and that it cooks humans for dinner. We dunno much more than what I've told ya." - Dijkstra told you and your face got even sourer than before. This wasn't just some ordinary Vampire, nor a Fiend. - "It lives in the mountains east from Novigrad and the Vegelbuds are rather concerned with it. No matter what in the horse's ass it is, it already massacred two villages."

Again, you pushed yourself more into the plushy chair Dijkstra had offered you. This wasn't a matter you could laugh at. Whether you liked it or not, it was more than fucking serious. Women and children were killed, men could be eaten or stomped to death.

"Bullshit. There ain't no monster who can destroy a whole damn village just because it wants to in Redenia. There ain't one like that on the whole Continent. Before you jump in with Fiends, they are too lazy for any that." - You started slowly and put a strand of your hair behind your ears.

"Dijkstra, honestly, I ain't a dumb bitch. You're the mediator between me and the Veganbrods or what the fuck is their name and I know that you'll have a lot of money from this. But no witcher, squirrel, or human will take this fucking job. This ain't a job. This is suicide." - You said, looking him in the eyes.

"Oh, Y/N, I just love how honest you can be with me. This ain't a one-man job, of course. We already have some... Takers who are gladly willing to accompany you." - Dijkstra said in a solid-sure tone.

"If it's Letho of the Viper school, tell him to fuck off right away. I hope it's not a sorceress either, I can't stand these bitches either. Lambert would be a nice company, tho and I wouldn't mind me an Eskel either." - You said honestly with a small smile. Yeah. You knew how did your witcher brothers work on their contracts, you knew you would get along with them and if there would be anything that would go bad, they would have your back.

You liked Lambert the most of all the witchers you knew - it didn't matter if they were from your school or the Griffin school or the Vipers, you just liked Lambert the most. There were rumors that you and he had some kind of a relationship - whether it had ended up or was going on. And any of that wasn't confirmed either denied by any of you. When people asked you, you both just smiled and changed the subject.

"It's not Lambert, unfortunately, but it is someone you know, which is some good fucking news. And it is someone you don't like, I have to say - one of them sings all the fucking time and the other one is a grumpy moron who had fucked up my leg. But don't think about that. Business is business, darling, it's not about liking someone. It's about money and surviving the fucking trip to the mountains." - Dijkstra looked you right in the eyes. You sat there in silence, watching the man with a dead serious face.

Of course. Of fucking course. Your partner for the trip, who you had to believe with all your will power, the partner who was supposed to be someone you should be able to trust with whole life, that man was supposed to be the white-haired moron. And his possibly gay friend. You looked at Dijkstra, having that daring look on your face.

"I can still say no, you ugly bastard." - You said honestly. At that, the idiot sitting opposite of you started laughing.

"No-one denies your right to deny - only your financial state and the reputation you have around Novigrad and other big cities now. Tell me, Y/N, you and the other witchers have some kind of a competition which should determine who is the worst person of you all?" - Dijkstra asked, having you speechless for a moment. - "Because according to my people, you have the leading position now. The incident with Stjepan got pretty known here over the last few days. And I know you like to keep your honor clean."

"I had never hurt a woman or a child. And that's it." - Was the sentence you said coldly as ice.

"People heard otherwise. Almost dragging the children out of the bed, abducting them so you can bring them to your witcher school as payment and all of that came with your promise of the next generation of witchresses... Oh Y/N, you know that one small rumor can completely ruin your business, huh?" - He leaned in, closer to you, watching your reactions. You hated Sigismund but there was one thing that needed to be said - he was a damn good businessman.

Why did that hiding rat want you to take the contract? You had no idea. But even though you didn't want it for some reason, he knew how to make you take it.

So it was said and done - you were supposed to travel to the mountain alongside Geralt of Rivia and his small musician puppy Julian. But not before a grand ball held at the Vegelbud family residence three hours away from Novigrad. Which, on the other side, you were excited about.

[biscuitreviews]

Biscuit Reviews The Witcher III Wild Hunt (2-year Anniversary Review)

The Witcher III: Wild Hunt is perhaps my favorite game to come out of the PS4/Xbox One/Wii U-Switch console era. It’s won tons of awards and was game of the year for many people in 2015. I didn’t get into the Witcher series until Witcher II: Assassin of Kings was a free download for Xbox Live members in 2016. 

After I finished Witcher II, I immediately went to Witcher III and my god, talk about an amazing sequel. It was bigger, it was better, and for being the end of Geralt’s story, it did a great job for making newcomers such as myself, not feel lost at all.

I’m going to be spoiling the game so if you haven’t played Witcher III, definitely play it before going into this review.

The story of Witcher III, revolves around Geralt of Rivia, a witcher looking for his adoptive daughter Ciri alongside his on and off again lover Yennefer of Vengerburg.

Geralt will travel through large open world zones during his quest. Velen took inspiration from the Polish and Northern German countryside, Novigrad is reminiscent of the Polish city of Gdańsk during the medieval era, and finally you have the Skellige Isles, taking inspiration from Ireland. Each of these areas are massive and beautiful to look at. It’s easy to forget that you’re in a world currently being ravaged by war or filled with monsters until you stumble across areas that give you a stark reminder that there is a war happening.

One thing that I love about the game is how it handled decisions. There’s no clear good or bad decision, everything has a shade of grey. Sure there are choices that sound better in the short term, but it could have long term ramifications that could come back to haunt Geralt. One example is Triss’s quest line in Novigrad. Sure, you’re helping mages escape the city to where they no longer have to fear for themselves, but by doing so, you give the witch hunters a new target to pursue, which are non-human races such as elves and dwarves. However, if you don’t help mages escape, than later in the story Geralt’s dwarven friend, Zoltan, can help him with a jailbreak. If you do help the mages, Zoltan won’t be able to assist Geralt due to not wanting to face the wrath of the witch hunters.

Even the types of decisions you make are fantastic as well. All of these choices are actions that Geralt himself would make and do in that situation, it’s just a matter what you believe would be the overall choice he would go with. With many choice based games, dialogue options cover many aspects of a character archetype, because normally, you are making a character and are taking that character on the journey. In this case, Geralt is a character, he has his own beliefs, likes and dislikes, and dialogue choices reflect his specific personality rather than a personality a player would create.

It’s also why some aspects in gameplay are limited such as crafting. Geralt is able to craft oils and potions on his own as long as he has the formula and the ingredients. Applying the proper oil and drinking the necessary potions are necessary for fighting monsters in this game, which I’ll discuss more about later. When it comes to making armor and swords, Geralt has to seek out a Blacksmith to make these items as Geralt himself doesn’t have the kind of skill set, therefore he has to seek out a person able to build these items.

I also love how story quests and side quests interact with one another. Main story quests could go differently if you’ve done some side quests that relate to that specific quest and vice versa. Also the fact that side quests have just as much weight as the main quests make them feel more important and worth doing for that extra bit of lore or for that impact it could have on the main story.

As well polished and built the Witcher III is, it does have some minor glitches being an open world game. Sometimes you’ll find objects just randomly floating in air. Occasionally the input to talk to NPCs won’t work and you’ll have to either step back and walk forward to have the prompt reappear or just reposition Geralt himself for the NPC to talk to you. The fact that Geralt can either die or get heavily damaged from ridiculously low heights is also highly annoying and instills a fear of any small dropping points.

Another issue I would like to point out is that it’s not exactly the most socially inclusive. A lot of the main women are highly sexualized and sometimes feel that they’re nude for the sake of it. There are moments where you can choose anti-LGBT dialogue options when you encounter those characters, which I found exteremly baffeling that it was an option considering Ciri is bi and Geralt seems supportive in the dialogue they exchange. I get it, it’s a choice, you don’t have select those options, but the fact that they’re there to begin with just leaves a bit of a bad taste. Let’s not forget the entire ocean of white people in this game. I’m sorry, but including two people of color in a DLC just doesn’t cut it. Does it break the game for me? No, but I think not acknowledging that this exists within the game is even worse.

As mentioned previously, monsters have certain weakness and you are expected to exploit those weakness when fighting monsters. Using the proper tools to easily take down a monster feels great and makes you feel more invested in the world as you have to research these creatures in your bestiary to know their weaknesses. 

Going above and beyond to take on an extra tough enemy or a monster clearly above your level although feels great at first, it’s quickly brought down when the experience gained is very little and the loot isn’t something that equates the struggle you went through. It’s just a bit disappointing that you’re encouraged to research monsters and exploit weaknesses and when you do just that, the rewards just don’t reflect that.

There’s also one quirk with dialogue as well that’s honestly more funny than terrible, but the way it happened just made it more memorable to me.

This instance is going to a wake party with Yennefer in Skellige. She’ll comment on how she likes that Geralt is growing out a beard. Now if Geralt does have a beard in this instance, it makes sense, however if Geralt is clean shaven, Yennefer will still make the comment which I always found that to be a funny little programming quirk. It’s obvious that this response was to happen when Geralt has a beard and the programming within the game was supposed to read that. There are a couple of instances that NPCs will react to Geralt’s appearance and the reaction is appropriate in those moments. But the beard moment, always brings out a chuckle.

Granted for a game as massive as Witcher III to only have a few minor issues, it’s actually rather impressive. However, I will admit that it has been four years since it’s initial release and there might have been more bugs then, but now it’s a mostly smooth experience.

As mentioned in a previous post, I do refer back to this game a lot for professional research as well. CD Projekt Red used a branching writing program known as Articy Draft, a program I use in my day job. I’ll do different decisions, I’ll change the order of when I do quests and just imagine how the branching dialogue looked within Articy and the type of variables used to determine how certain events play out.

One also can’t talk about Witcher III without mentioning Gwent, what is perhaps one of the best mini-games within a game since Final Fantasy VIII’s Triple Triad. Gwent is an easy to learn, but tough to master card game at the start. It’s tough at first as Geralt doesn’t have many cards at his disposal, but once you finally get a win, the dam starts to break little by little. Geralt will begin winning more powerful cards that can be added to his deck. Eventually it does get to a point where everyone becomes a bit easy to defeat as you gain more powerful cards and build your deck for effective strategies. Regardless it’s a game within a game that you can easily get lost in. 

Witcher III also set what many gamers regard as the “Golden Standard” for how DLC should be treated. Witcher III includes 16 free DLC additions ranging from additional quests, items, additional costumes, and Gwent cards. Then there’s the two paid DLC expansions, Heart of Stone and Blood and Wine, which involves two new stories.

Both of these expansions also add additional gameplay mechanics to make Geralt stronger, which you will need to take advantage of for Blood and Wine as monsters and enemies in that particular expansion are a bit tougher than in the main game and Heart of Stone.

Blood and Wine also contains my favorite quest in the entire game. The quest is called “Paperchase” and it’s hilarious. Something about a legendary monster slayer still having to adhere to the bureaucracy of a bank to get a reward for saving a guy years ago is just amazing. It shows that not all great quests have to involve you having an encounter that puts you on the edge of your seat.

The Witcher III is a game that deserves the praise and reception it has received. It has made a mark on the RPG genre that many developers are taking note and implementing in their games. The most famous case being Ubisoft with the Assassin’s Creed series by following a similar dialogue decision based structure and having side quests impact the main story and vice versa. This is a game that has earned its status as a modern classic, which I’m sure will keep that status for a very long time.

As I’m sure it’s no surprise to anyone on Tumblr or any denizen of the internet, The Witcher III: Wild Hunt receives a 5 out 5

So far it’s been quite an interesting two years on this site. Frankly, I expected to just be a reviewer that would continuously scream into the void. To my surprise, I’ve had quite a few of you that like and share my posts adding more to the conversation whether you agree or disagree. I’ve also recently passed the 50 reviews milestone as well so the 50 and the two year mark happened rather quickly!

Here’s to the march on getting to 100 reviews...at some point!

[strngher-archived]

YENNEFER  OF  VENGERBERG

there is something to be said about a child born during belleteyn. perhaps they’re destined for something more or perhaps it’s merely luck when a little girl with a hunchback makes her first cry. when she first screamed into the night to a father who would leave her and a mother who would beat her. maybe that was when destiny was decided that the child was fated to become a sorceress, that she was destined to be more than any human could ever dream. perhaps that moment was when it was decided that the child would be abandoned, left for dead, only to be picked by magic to learn to be better, be molded into beauty, taught to be strong. it must have been then that the universe decided that the child would forget the name given at birth and would try to forget the deformities that graced her body but still encased her mirrored self. perhaps destiny favors the witch.

aretuza became her home and yennefer became her name as she tried to make amends with her life on thanedd island. tissaia de vries became her mentor and a mother figure, became the only thing she had, the only thing to hold onto for when she looked in the mirror, she saw hatred glaring back at her. hatred passed from father to mother to child. hatred that slit her wrists through her tendons and bled into the floor and stained the stone. but she was stronger than any blade, stronger than her hatred, stronger than death itself. it was in that moment a desire to thrive, a desire to push forward, a desire to be more was born within young yennefer. a desire that would allow her to shed physical setbacks and let a chill settle in her heart while she always remembered vengerberg.

going to rinde had been a well thought out, calculated decision. why wouldn’t a sorceress take up residence where mages were boycotting taxes? especially if she was granted sanctuary by beau berrant, the merchant-ambassador of novigrad. she had comfort, safety, and was the only mage in the town which meant that her services were well paid for. she controlled the market and she couldn’t have had it any better. the last thing she had expected was for a witcher to stumble into her bed chambers, to require her assistance and fall for the batting of her eyelashes and fall under her charm. she hadn’t expected him to take pity, to want to protect her from an angry djinn determined to grant a final wish so that it could be free. and even less had she expected that witcher’s last wish would tie their destinies together for all of eternity. he had done it without a second thought, hadn’t done it to save himself because he would have survived… but he’d done it to save her after she had deceived him and tried to send him away. there was something more to be seen  in geralt of rivia.

a year spent in vengerberg with the witcher changed her outlook on life. for a brief moment in time, she was able to feel as though she could give all of her love without bearing a child. she’d thought for just a moment that her desire to be important to someone, her desire to give all of her love could be fulfilled by a man with white hair and eyes of a cat. she’d believed in him. had given herself to him in ways she’d never before given herself to anyone. and he’d hurt her. she woke one morning to a letter and flowers on a bedside table… and a cold, empty bed. her heart hardened and she spent the next four years trying to forget the man, four years hiding herself in magic and beds of those who would never matter. four years until destiny brought them back together and she let him know how hurt she was. let him know that he had destroyed a part of her. but she couldn’t resist him, couldn’t deny a reconciliation no matter how short it was. another six months of trying to make things work before they parted ways with yennefer believing that that would be it, that he would forget her. another four years passed and the lion cub of cintra revived her destiny. yennefer had always wanted a child, had decided that geralt could not fill the void that her heart held but if she could give all of her love to a child, she would live. she would find meaning. she heard of gerallt’s child of surprise. accepted his invitation to teach her, train her, care for her. yennefer never thought that the little girl would become so dear to her. that she would call her daughter . that the girl would call her mother. but there was something in the child’s emerald eyes that reassured her, confirmed that the child would be tied to her.. with or without geralt.

yennefer is a mage for hire, as most sorceresses are. she does not tie herself to any one kingdom, nor does she bend her own morals for a job. if she does not agree with what she’s asked, she will not take the job. she typically travels, staying in one place for months to years at a time before moving on. she maintains political and high society contacts to be sure she is always top of the list of recommended mages for any job.

yennefer’s magic is drawn from the earth. there are veins of magic that can be tapped into and yen is extremely talented and adept in this. to assist with this, her talisman is a choker with a black marigold inlaid with an obsidian star with diamonds. along with magical properties, obsidian is a reminder of the strength of fire and diamonds of the beauty of pressure.

THE  LAST  WISH

everyone knows that yennefer’s fate was tied to geralt when he made his last wish . his wish to tie her life with his so that they would both survive the wrath of the djinn she’d chased after , the djinn she’d angered , the djinn she’d hope could reverse her infertility . it had been a stupid endeavor . an endeavor that had nearly gotten her and an entire village killed . she should have known better . should have known to not be so cocky . but when had yennefer of vengerberg ever been less than confident ?

but , what , exactly , is a djinn ?

in the universe of the witcher , djinn are elementals of air that fall under the categorie of genies . genie is the name given to a creature or being from the elemental plane . djinn are endowed with consciousness and character as well as a sort of illusion of free will . they may be held captive harnessed for three wishes to gain their freedom .

how does this relate to yennefer ?

yennefer was introduced to geralt because jaskier decided to release a djinn from an amphora caught while fishing . he believed himself sure that he could simply make three wishes and suffer no difficulties . instead what he’s gifted with is a crushed larynx and geralt accidentally and unknowingly getting the first wish on the genie because of a botched exorcism .

the witcher sought yennefer out to help cure jaskier as he felt a sense of responsibility for the bard … as well as understood that if jaskier were to lose his voice , he may as well lose his life as his livelihood would be taken from him . what followed was a roller coaster of rescues and destiny that found geralt and yennefer tied together for what would have been forever .

the pair spent the next year together . yennefer let her guard down and gave him everything she was , loved him with her full heart , though could never say the words . love was a foreign concept . a concept that neither she nor the witcher could understand . a concept that she was desperate for , but one that it seemed as though the witcher could never give her .

for one morning , yennefer awoke to an empty bed and a note on the nightstand . she spent the next two years alone . two years chasing affection . two years with anger boiling beneath the surface because he’d taken everything she was and had left her with nothing . left her to remember herself before he had existed .

eventually , as fate would have it , the two would find their way back to each other and would fall into their routine for six months . six months of more of the same until it became clear that geralt could not say the words she needed to hear and she felt those words for no one else . and so , in the middle of the night , a note was written , delivered by a raven , and yennefer disappeared into the darkness .

this time was different . this time , it was her choice . choosing to step away from a man that couldn’t say the words printed across his mind because she needed to hear them , needed them to be more than a thought . this time , she chased herself . she spent four years deciding her own fate , her own future . a fate that led her to attempting to track down the djinn that had granted the last wish , determined to make it’s final wish her own .

it was difficult . she was prepared , though . she knew what she’d be going up against , knew that she would be trying to sever the string of fate itself . but she was yennefer of vengerberg and she did exactly what the hell she pleased . and it pleased her to take fate into her own hands .

so she tracked the being , tracked him until it struck her that perhaps one djinn was just as good as another when she heard whispers of an entity in larvik . she listened closely to those whispers , let herself be guided towards the rumors only to discover that she would not be disappointed . determined , she engaged the djinn . she no longer had intentions of using the power as her own , no intentions of imprisoning it . she only wanted one thing ...

her fate to be her own .

she fought with the hope that once the spell was lifted , once the magic was gone , she would be free of the feelings she had for geralt . that he would forget her name and her face . and that they’d both find joy in separation . however , when she finally gained control of the djinn and forced it to remove the spell …

nothing changed and she was left to understand that fate could not be tied to a djinn .

REGARDING  OTHER  CANONS

stories have been told since the beginning of time and passed down for centuries . at times , different versions of certain events are found in the tangle of bard’s tales , wives tales , and those belong to brother’s grimm . when tracing these stories back , they all find their commonality in their beginnings . they all come from the source of events but there’s no easy way to determine which source of events are correct , true , and exact . in fact , it could be wagered that none are quite the truth .

bards are known to exaggerate . they’re known to spin tales to excite , entice , and arouse . if the subject at hand does none of these then it must be changed . the truth must be warped until the bare bones exist but the excitement is left alive for those who wish to listen . the importance of events remain the same but the acts and words surrounding them are blurred to suit the needs of a poetaster singing for his coin , praying for his next meal , seducing his next wench .

and then there were fairy tales . stories woven for children to teach or frighten . stories that changed endings depending on the teller , the child , and the parent . they could not all be the same , there couldn’t be just one version for too many stories could be used for so many reasons and lessons . still , those stories never quite matched the bard but maybe they were the truth ? maybe they were bent just enough to hold onto the original tales ?

but what about the historians ? surely those accounts must hold the most truth . they certainly have to be telling the events exactly as they happen . oh , but wait … history is only told from the perspective of those that win wars and triumph over those they battle . their perspective is skewed towards whatever suits them best . could there really be a full truth behind their tellings ?

as such … numerous versions of the tale of the witcher exist . no one is quite sure which is exact but none dare question the existence of the events .