witcherfics

[witcherfics]

Important Update

Due to school getting in the way and a loss of interest in The Witcher in general, I haven't been able to keep up with posting here. I have since then made an AO3 account, and due to concerns over the safety of fanwork on Tumblr due to Post+, I will be moving my works there under the pseudonym WitcherFics.

I will not update any more works here, even my WIP. I will delete two fics a day from here and repost them on AO3 in the same order that I first posted them here.

After my last fic has been deleted, I will be deleting this blog.

[witcherfics]

TUMBLR FUCKED UP AND DIDN'T POST HALF OF IT HERE'S THE REST.

It was several months later when he was in a different town: a farming community focusing mainly on wheat. The men of that town had just scared off a bunch of bandits, and celebrated by showing off their strength in dance. Part of it was well-choreographed, a dance of welcome from the ladies, but the rest was a set of incredible feats (for a human, that is.) Squatting and jumping and kicking, each move was forceful and with purpose. Each man took a turn showing off his skills to the sound of the music. Even Geralt could appreciate the strength it takes to execute some of these moves.

They were back in the northern realms when they encountered yet another kind of dance. It was in a long hall one night, the band at one end playing loud enough for the rows of people lined up to hear. Jaskier had insisted that Geralt join this dance. "It's easy, Geralt! The caller will walk us through each step at the beginning, then we know the moves so he'll call them one at a time as the music plays. They're simple enough that even the kids are dancing!"

Jaskier was right. There were children lined up, partnered with an older sibling or a parent. So Geralt let himself bumble through the first few sets, taking much less time than he thought he would to get into the swing of things. It was when the caller announced that they'd pick up the skill level by a bit, make it a bit harder, that Geralt tapped out. "Maybe next time, bard." He could see the children were wandering off as well, so he didn't feel too bad about slipping outside as Jaskier joined the band. Under the stars and fireflies, Geralt let himself wonder at the fact that he, the big scary Witcher, had learned such a skill as dance.

A Summer of Song and Dance

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier, mention of other Witchers

Pairings: Geraskier, if you squint

Warnings: none

A/N: Am I finally writing something from outside of the Accidental Warlord verse? Yes. Did I write Geralt Whump Week like I said? No. Did I forget about this blog for months until inspiration struck? Definitely. Do I blame an undiagnosed neurodivergence? Yes. Did I lose interest in this fandom until I regained it because it has the best whump? Yes.

All the dances protested here are what I can recall of various European dance styles: Morris dancing, Ukrainian dance, maypole dancing, and Scottish dancing. I was going to include fire dancing, and make it a year round thing, but turns out that's something we stole from other cultures.

The tree was bare, except at the top, where s a small amount of branches remained and long ribbons flowed. It was Beltane, and the people were performing this ritual in hopes of good crops. Men took one side of the pole, and women the other, both facing opposite directions and gripping the ribbons in their hands. As the music started, they moved towards each other, the first couple to meet passing right shoulders, then passing left shoulders with the next person, and so on and so forth, weaving the ribbon as they danced. Jaskier had been invited to join the bad, and Geralt was tolerated as he had freed one of their best fields from a noonwraith. The music played, drinks and food were shared in plenty, and for a moment, Geralt was content with the world, even as the first drops of an early summer rain hit his head.

At another town, a few weeks later, Geralt watched as some men lined up. They wore costumes covered in ribbon, with sleigh bells running up their shins. A few musicians, Jaskier included of course, struck up a quick tune, and the men started stepping in time to the music, skipping in an elaborate pattern and waving flashy flags in the air. Soon, they'd switch out the flags for short sticks, clacking them together in time to the music. The people cheered, clapping to the music.

Geralt wondered if the nearest Witcher school could have used these dances to help the youngest of them train. It takes much strength in the arms and legs to keep up, and they could get used to striking their foe while moving agilely.

It was several months

[witcherfics]

Chapter 4/Probably 6. This one's longer by a lot, but now I know what plot points I want to hit in each chapter, so now I have a plan!

Warning: rape/non-con in graphic detail. Skip from *** to the second *** if you don't want to read it.

The remainder of the fic will refer to events that happen in that time, but not in as much detail.

"Kagen, huh? Alright, one apology letter coming up. Hey, Geralt, love..."

Geralt was sitting in his own room, Jaskier in his arms. Eskel had returned to the keep soon after him, finding nothing on his own mission, and was now sitting at Geralt's feet, Jaskier's fingers in his hair. If they were to get more information, it would be up to Mouse.

"Yes, Lark?"

"I want to join you at the negotiations table tomorrow." Geralt and Eskel both stirred at that, but Jaskier kept talking. "You know I'm good at it, and if I'm sat in your lap, they'd have to take you as well. We could bring Yenn too, for extra protection."

"You know, Wolf, he is being sensible. I'm certain that Aubrey or Triss could help the Cub hold down the fort." Geralt's scent changed to exasperation. He knows that Jask is right, but he doesn't want to put him in that kind of danger.

"Fine. We'll take double the number tomorrow then. A proper army, just in case. And you stay beside Yenn and I the entire time."

"Deal," Jask grinned. Then someone knocked on the door.

It was Mouse and Treyse, both looked excited and concerned.

"I got some reliable rumours from a whore in Cintra. According to her, a customer bragged to her about how powerful a sorcerer he is. He also mentioned later that he's only staying a few days for business, and complained about how bland northerners make their food. She suspects Nilfgaard, and high ranking at that, by the way he talks. His accent was hidden, but there were a few tells in his speech that to her sounded like a noble trying to speak the lower language. And since Nilfgaard is so much more strict than anyone about its classes of language, it makes sense."

Treyse looked at his niece, a bit of pride in his scent that he couldn't quite tamper out. Then he turned to Geralt and Eskel with a look of sympathy. "We'll keep looking for your father, Wolf. Already we're sending word to all our little birds in Nilfgaard. We've even got a few minor nobles that Mouse had made diplomatic connections to before she joined us that are willing to pass on secrets, and an agreement to cooperate with Cintra where Nilfgaard is concerned. I say a week until we find him for certain."

Geralt didn't like it at all. Just sitting there waiting for others to get the information didn't suite him at all, but if he went up to Nilfgaard and accused them of taking Vesemir prisoner, that could be grounds for war. A war that Geralt isn't ready for yet. Somehow, they'd have to not only find where Vesemir is, but get him back without having revealed who did it.

"In the mean time, I'll go meet this stranger in negotiations. We'll leave Jaskier and some of the council here, and argue that we have to bring it back to the full council to deliberate and that we can have a counter proposal in two days. We'll keep dragging it on from there, should give you enough time to find what you need. Sorry, Lark, you'll have to wait for the second meeting."

-------

There is a moment, after getting thrown a distance, or clawed open, or otherwise badly injured, that a Witcher feels their body break and has to decide to keep fighting despite the injury. Vesemir felt his body break in the dungeon, as blow after blow rained down upon him. His head was spared, to keep him from getting knocked out, but the metal rod his tormentor wielded wroght bruise after bruise on his body. Few bones were left in one piece from the onslaught. Each blow pulled another groan of agony from Vesemir's lips, falling out with a mouthful of blood.

Vesemir beard the metal clatter to the ground. He no longer had the strength to even attempt to hold himself up, instead savouring the relief for just a moment. Then, a new pain, this time sharp, in his leg. He fought the exhaustion to look. The tip of a knife poked out, and in a detached sort of way he realized that it had gone through the meat of it.

Through all this, Vesemir was not paying attention to the man's words, but what he heard after adjusting to the now-wounded leg brought fear to even his heart.

***

"I wonder if your arse is as ugly as the rest of ya, Witcher. I guess it doesn't matter really, a hole is a hole to me."

No... No, not that. Fuck, how could he face... How could he... How dare he look anyone in the eye if he's weak enough to let someone force that on him? Fuck, to pretend he's even worthy of his sons after...

Vesemir knew his mind was spiraling, but as the man cut away the last of his clothing, as Vesemir hung, too weak to shiver against the cold, he felt an incredible shame rise in his chest.

The man prepared him a little at least. His finger burned as it pressed inside him, wet with just a bit of spit, probably to save the other man some chafing. Vesemir knew that the bit of pain he felt at that was nothing compared to what was to come.

The finger left, only to be replaced by something much wider. He wanted to clench against the intrusion, but forced himself to relax. Wouldn't do to lose more blood, and the energy it would take if he has to fight an infection on top of everything else. As if he could do much.

The man held his dick there for a sec, as if preparing. The he clenched Vesemir's waist, and pushed in all the way in one quick go. In, out, in, out, never giving him time to adjust to the intrusion. It reminded him of that time that the Snakes introduced him to curry, and it burned just as bad on the way out as on the way in, but worse. So much worse. Vesemir gave another scream, and started getting light headed. As he passed out, he was grateful.

***

Vesemir slept fitfully that night, but at least he was left alone in the dark, dank cell. Every inch of him screamed in pain, and having not eaten all day he wasn't healing like he should, his body already automatically adjusting to the lack of food. Whenever he woke, he prayed to a god he hardly believed in for Geralt to find him soon.

For Want of a Saviour

Rating: M

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Geralt, Eskel, Jaskier, Vesemir, Yennefer, Treyse, Mouse, OC villainous mages

Other tags: torture, hurt comfort, whump, inspired by the AWAU

When [redacted] wants information, they get clever. When [redacted] gets clever, someone usually suffers. This time it's Vesemir.

Chapter 1/?

--------

Authors Notes: Hi, me writing for @inexplicifics's au again? More likely than you think. Be careful, this contains graphic torture, which may include rape, but I haven't gotten that far in the planning yet. That's why I said chose not to use rather than stating any warning in particular.

One second, Vesemir was in Skellige, discussing Ciri and the logistics of her inheriting Cintra with Pavetta. There were a few people out of earshot, but none that were concerning to Vesemir. The next moment, the ground had litteraly disappeared beneath his feet.

This is not unusual in a Witchers' line of work, but it is usually preceded by downing some potions, sharpening a silver blade, and putting on some armour. It is usually followed by hanging upside down from a monster tentacle, or claw, or what have you.

What is not usual is the distinct feeling of a portal, the loss of his tracker charm, and unconsciousness.

---------

Geralt was training with Eskel when Yennefer ran into the yard. "It's Vesemir," she cried, "his tracker charm was broken!"

Fuck, Geralt thought, then considering that such a word is particularly relevant, said out loud. "Fuck."

Geralt didn't bother with messengers, instead yelling for everyone to meet in the main hall immediately. The fact that he never bothered with gathering the council first said much.

Geralt surveyed his people. "As most of you know, Vesemir recently went on a diplomatic trip to Skellige with only two others. His tracking necklace was broken, indicating trouble."

Yennefer took a place beside him. "The two with him have written to say that a portal appeared under Vesemir's feet, and they weren't near enough to grab him in time. His tracker is showing up near Brokilon, of all places." The hall somehow, impossibly became more tense.

Geralt took over again. "One of each school will join those in Skellige in interviewing Eist and Calanthe. The Council and twenty from each school will investigate near Brokilon. Jaskier and Ciri will be in charge here, with Aubrey to assist them. School heads, have your men chosen and ready to leave in fifteen. Treyse, a word with you once you've given your orders, please."

A chorus of "White Wolf!" rang through the hall.

[witcherfics]

Chapter 3/?

Updated character tag: Lambert, how could I forget him!

Geralt followed the shield bearers out of the portal, then Yen, then the rest of the group. Immediately, they found a set of swords stuck in the ground, a Wolf medallion and Vesemir's tracking charm hanging off them. Geralt and Lambert both swore colourfully. In the background, the others were spreading out, sniffing around.

"They were smart, dumped the necklace than took a second portal. It's the untraceable kind of portal too. They've got access to a rare flower, which means money." Geralt noted Yennefer's comments, filing it away just in case.

He kneeled by the swords, taking the medallion in hand, holding it reverently. Geralt slid the chain over his own neck for safekeeping, then turned his attention to the swords. There was a parchment tied to them, he noticed. Not poisoned or trapped, he would have smelled it. "Look at this. It says 'We are willing to discuss the return of the prisoner. The alderman of Kagen has been intimidated into hosting us during negotiations. Be at his offices by noon tomorrow.' So, do we meet them?"

Treyse stepped forward. "I think you should, Wolf. Even if it just gets us a chance to see what we're dealing with. I suggest we go back, rest, and prepare. Your bard can write a very apologetic letter to the alderman of Kagen in the meantime."

--------

"You refuse?" The man behind him said. "Very well." Vesemir didn't know what the man was doing. He couldn't see behind him, and his nose was clogged with the scent of his own blood. He heard a word, was that Elder?

Vesemir screamed as his feet erupted in agony. He had no way of knowing how long it lasted. Fire-hot coals pressed to his soles, his skin boiling and blistering under the assault. Eventually, they were pulled off, and he found himself able to breath once again.

"That is still very tame compared to what I can do to you. I can flay you alive, bit by bit. I can pour boiling water over your head. I can douse your wounds in vinegar and salt and alcohol. I can force your body into shapes that will leave you aching after, push you underwater until you are close to drowning, beat you, break your bones, deny you food and water and light, poison you. But you see, I'm a busy person. I can't personally see to every prisoner, even one such as yourself. I leave you in the care of... Well you don't deserve to know his name. He's quite sadistic, and once he gets started there's no stopping him until I get back and you start answering questions. So, goodbye, Witcher. I'll see you soon." A door opened, the man originally behind Vesemir walked out, and a new man walked in. Vesemir could hear the first tell the second to have fun before the door closed and he was trapped inside with his new tormentor.

For Want of a Saviour

Rating: M

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Geralt, Eskel, Jaskier, Vesemir, Yennefer, Treyse, Mouse, OC villainous mages

Other tags: torture, hurt comfort, whump, inspired by the AWAU

When [redacted] wants information, they get clever. When [redacted] gets clever, someone usually suffers. This time it's Vesemir.

Chapter 1/?

--------

Authors Notes: Hi, me writing for @inexplicifics's au again? More likely than you think. Be careful, this contains graphic torture, which may include rape, but I haven't gotten that far in the planning yet. That's why I said chose not to use rather than stating any warning in particular.

One second, Vesemir was in Skellige, discussing Ciri and the logistics of her inheriting Cintra with Pavetta. There were a few people out of earshot, but none that were concerning to Vesemir. The next moment, the ground had litteraly disappeared beneath his feet.

This is not unusual in a Witchers' line of work, but it is usually preceded by downing some potions, sharpening a silver blade, and putting on some armour. It is usually followed by hanging upside down from a monster tentacle, or claw, or what have you.

What is not usual is the distinct feeling of a portal, the loss of his tracker charm, and unconsciousness.

---------

Geralt was training with Eskel when Yennefer ran into the yard. "It's Vesemir," she cried, "his tracker charm was broken!"

Fuck, Geralt thought, then considering that such a word is particularly relevant, said out loud. "Fuck."

Geralt didn't bother with messengers, instead yelling for everyone to meet in the main hall immediately. The fact that he never bothered with gathering the council first said much.

Geralt surveyed his people. "As most of you know, Vesemir recently went on a diplomatic trip to Skellige with only two others. His tracking necklace was broken, indicating trouble."

Yennefer took a place beside him. "The two with him have written to say that a portal appeared under Vesemir's feet, and they weren't near enough to grab him in time. His tracker is showing up near Brokilon, of all places." The hall somehow, impossibly became more tense.

Geralt took over again. "One of each school will join those in Skellige in interviewing Eist and Calanthe. The Council and twenty from each school will investigate near Brokilon. Jaskier and Ciri will be in charge here, with Aubrey to assist them. School heads, have your men chosen and ready to leave in fifteen. Treyse, a word with you once you've given your orders, please."

A chorus of "White Wolf!" rang through the hall.

[witcherfics]

Chapter 2/?

Vesemir woke, but didn't open his eyes. He took stock of what he could. Dimeritium shackles on his wrists and ankles and around his neck. Cold, damp, stale air. He was stripped down to his braies. The way that his arms were stretched out to the side indicated that he was strung between two walls or posts, leaving his body completely open to... He didn't want to think about it.

"I know you're awake," a voice behind him said. "The way this works is simple. I ask you questions, you answer them, and no one gets hurt. Understand?"

It's not worth inviting this strangers wrath early by being smart, so Vesemir merely responds "I understand."

"Good. Let's start simple. How many Witchers are there in Kaer Morhen and how many are out on patrol?" Vesemir remained silent, making it look as if he was doing the math to buy some time. "C'mon, Witcher, we ain't got all day."

"Like I'd tell the likes of you," Vesemir growled out.

"I thought you didn't want to get hurt. Very well." There was a whistle through the air, and a sharp pain across Vesemir's back. He choked back a cry. Already he was bleeding, but he's has far worse in his time.

Control yourself, Vesemir thought. You can take this. You must. He took slow, deep breaths as the initial sting eased its way into an ache.

"I'll ask again, and next time it will be ten lashes. How many Witchers are in Kaer Morhen, and how many are out on patrol?"

"You don't scare me."

The lashes that followed came fast, yet precise. Vesemir couldn't hold back a small cry on the last. Some part of him felt ashamed for showing such weakness already. Another part knew that it was just a matter of time before he'd ruin his voice screaming.

"Answer my question or I'll get more creative."

"I refuse."

---------

By the time the head of the Cats found him, Geralt was in his armour and tightening some straps at the back of Eskel's. "You wanted to see me, Wolf?" Treyse asked.

"Aye. Tell Mouse to get in touch with her spy network. See if they can tell her anything. Tell her to focus on the Cintra and Skellige areas, especially magic users from out of town. I doubt that Cintra and Skellige are involved, they're not that stupid, and the head of their druids is a very old friend of mine by name of Mousesack. He wouldn't betray me like this."

"Aye Wolf, smart." Eskel made a noise of agreement. "Want me to help her?"

"No, if you weren't there with the rest, they'd know something was up. She's going to have to do this on her own."

For Want of a Saviour

Rating: M

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Geralt, Eskel, Jaskier, Vesemir, Yennefer, Treyse, Mouse, OC villainous mages

Other tags: torture, hurt comfort, whump, inspired by the AWAU

When [redacted] wants information, they get clever. When [redacted] gets clever, someone usually suffers. This time it's Vesemir.

Chapter 1/?

--------

Authors Notes: Hi, me writing for @inexplicifics's au again? More likely than you think. Be careful, this contains graphic torture, which may include rape, but I haven't gotten that far in the planning yet. That's why I said chose not to use rather than stating any warning in particular.

One second, Vesemir was in Skellige, discussing Ciri and the logistics of her inheriting Cintra with Pavetta. There were a few people out of earshot, but none that were concerning to Vesemir. The next moment, the ground had litteraly disappeared beneath his feet.

This is not unusual in a Witchers' line of work, but it is usually preceded by downing some potions, sharpening a silver blade, and putting on some armour. It is usually followed by hanging upside down from a monster tentacle, or claw, or what have you.

What is not usual is the distinct feeling of a portal, the loss of his tracker charm, and unconsciousness.

---------

Geralt was training with Eskel when Yennefer ran into the yard. "It's Vesemir," she cried, "his tracker charm was broken!"

Fuck, Geralt thought, then considering that such a word is particularly relevant, said out loud. "Fuck."

Geralt didn't bother with messengers, instead yelling for everyone to meet in the main hall immediately. The fact that he never bothered with gathering the council first said much.

Geralt surveyed his people. "As most of you know, Vesemir recently went on a diplomatic trip to Skellige with only two others. His tracking necklace was broken, indicating trouble."

Yennefer took a place beside him. "The two with him have written to say that a portal appeared under Vesemir's feet, and they weren't near enough to grab him in time. His tracker is showing up near Brokilon, of all places." The hall somehow, impossibly became more tense.

Geralt took over again. "One of each school will join those in Skellige in interviewing Eist and Calanthe. The Council and twenty from each school will investigate near Brokilon. Jaskier and Ciri will be in charge here, with Aubrey to assist them. School heads, have your men chosen and ready to leave in fifteen. Treyse, a word with you once you've given your orders, please."

A chorus of "White Wolf!" rang through the hall.

[witcherfics]

For Want of a Saviour

Rating: M

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Characters: Geralt, Eskel, Jaskier, Vesemir, Yennefer, Treyse, Mouse, OC villainous mages

Other tags: torture, hurt comfort, whump, inspired by the AWAU

When [redacted] wants information, they get clever. When [redacted] gets clever, someone usually suffers. This time it's Vesemir.

Chapter 1/?

--------

Authors Notes: Hi, me writing for @inexplicifics's au again? More likely than you think. Be careful, this contains graphic torture, which may include rape, but I haven't gotten that far in the planning yet. That's why I said chose not to use rather than stating any warning in particular.

One second, Vesemir was in Skellige, discussing Ciri and the logistics of her inheriting Cintra with Pavetta. There were a few people out of earshot, but none that were concerning to Vesemir. The next moment, the ground had litteraly disappeared beneath his feet.

This is not unusual in a Witchers' line of work, but it is usually preceded by downing some potions, sharpening a silver blade, and putting on some armour. It is usually followed by hanging upside down from a monster tentacle, or claw, or what have you.

What is not usual is the distinct feeling of a portal, the loss of his tracker charm, and unconsciousness.

---------

Geralt was training with Eskel when Yennefer ran into the yard. "It's Vesemir," she cried, "his tracker charm was broken!"

Fuck, Geralt thought, then considering that such a word is particularly relevant, said out loud. "Fuck."

Geralt didn't bother with messengers, instead yelling for everyone to meet in the main hall immediately. The fact that he never bothered with gathering the council first said much.

Geralt surveyed his people. "As most of you know, Vesemir recently went on a diplomatic trip to Skellige with only two others. His tracking necklace was broken, indicating trouble."

Yennefer took a place beside him. "The two with him have written to say that a portal appeared under Vesemir's feet, and they weren't near enough to grab him in time. His tracker is showing up near Brokilon, of all places." The hall somehow, impossibly became more tense.

Geralt took over again. "One of each school will join those in Skellige in interviewing Eist and Calanthe. The Council and twenty from each school will investigate near Brokilon. Jaskier and Ciri will be in charge here, with Aubrey to assist them. School heads, have your men chosen and ready to leave in fifteen. Treyse, a word with you once you've given your orders, please."

A chorus of "White Wolf!" rang through the hall.

[witcherfics]

Ah the reblog went to my main, not this blog. I keep messing this up.

For the Sake of Peace and Quiet

Rating: T (because of slightly heavyish topics)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier

Description: Geralt muses on the bard that won't leave him alone.

Authors Notes: I have said it before and I'll say it again: Jaskier is very good at coercion and violating boundaries for his own gain, and I understand Geralt's frustration with him. This fic explores this. On the flip side, I also adore emotionally constipated Geralt and his bard boyfriend, because what exists in canon isn't what I want to see.

Jaskier was a menace. Geralt just wanted to sit, have a drink and maybe lunch, and then head on in the search for work. It was going well, in fact, until the bard, with his bawdy songs sat down with him.

Can the man not read a room? Geralt's a Witcher and yet even he knows that this isn't the crowd to sing about the consequences of sleeping around to. And sitting with the one person who definitely wants to be left alone? Does he have a death wish?

Looking back, Geralt didn't know how much more clear he could be. He did say that he wants to be left alone, but the bard just... Didn't leave. The boy asked for a review, and ok, Geralt had thought that he can do that, maybe Jaskier's just gravitating to the only person who didn't show complete hostility to him and looking for some genuine feedback. Geralt had given something useful, and had expected a thank you, maybe a comment on how it doesn't matter if the monsters are real or not, it's all fiction anyhow, and for him to leave.

Jaskier figured out who he is. Fuck. He did not want to take on a contract at the moment but didn't know how to turn one down without having people turn against him. He tried to leave, but then someone came up to him with coin and a story about a devil, and he resigned himself to the job.

A pattern continued. Geralt set a boundary, Jaskier would challenge it. He's not allowed to touch Roach, so he feeds her apple slices despite Geralt's concern for her teeth. If his mare's teeth rotted too young, he'd go through them much faster than he'd like. Roach is allowed the ocassional treat, but not all the time.

Geralt doesn't like parties. He prefers the company of the smaller folk, those who understand real problems. In the end he agreed to the betrothal, not because the bard asked, but because he'd ran out of energy to keep asserting himself.

Ok, maybe he'd heard that Mousesack would be there. Their theological beliefs differed, but the Druid is a good man and he'd appreciate the opportunity to catch up with his old friend.

Maybe the bard had matured, at least a little, over the years. He did get better at reading the room and understanding others' moods better. He did seem to, over the years, actually show an interest in Geralt besides the economic. But that doesn't mean that Geralt has to enjoy his company. He doesn't. In fact, Geralt's asked Jaskier to leave him alone, in those exact words, over and over again and he's so tired of it. So, very tired.

[witcherfics]

For the Sake of Peace and Quiet

Rating: T (because of slightly heavyish topics)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier

Description: Geralt muses on the bard that won't leave him alone.

Authors Notes: I have said it before and I'll say it again: Jaskier is very good at coercion and violating boundaries for his own gain, and I understand Geralt's frustration with him. This fic explores this. On the flip side, I also adore emotionally constipated Geralt and his bard boyfriend, because what exists in canon isn't what I want to see.

Jaskier was a menace. Geralt just wanted to sit, have a drink and maybe lunch, and then head on in the search for work. It was going well, in fact, until the bard, with his bawdy songs sat down with him.

Can the man not read a room? Geralt's a Witcher and yet even he knows that this isn't the crowd to sing about the consequences of sleeping around to. And sitting with the one person who definitely wants to be left alone? Does he have a death wish?

Looking back, Geralt didn't know how much more clear he could be. He did say that he wants to be left alone, but the bard just... Didn't leave. The boy asked for a review, and ok, Geralt had thought that he can do that, maybe Jaskier's just gravitating to the only person who didn't show complete hostility to him and looking for some genuine feedback. Geralt had given something useful, and had expected a thank you, maybe a comment on how it doesn't matter if the monsters are real or not, it's all fiction anyhow, and for him to leave.

Jaskier figured out who he is. Fuck. He did not want to take on a contract at the moment but didn't know how to turn one down without having people turn against him. He tried to leave, but then someone came up to him with coin and a story about a devil, and he resigned himself to the job.

A pattern continued. Geralt set a boundary, Jaskier would challenge it. He's not allowed to touch Roach, so he feeds her apple slices despite Geralt's concern for her teeth. If his mare's teeth rotted too young, he'd go through them much faster than he'd like. Roach is allowed the ocassional treat, but not all the time.

Geralt doesn't like parties. He prefers the company of the smaller folk, those who understand real problems. In the end he agreed to the betrothal, not because the bard asked, but because he'd ran out of energy to keep asserting himself.

Ok, maybe he'd heard that Mousesack would be there. Their theological beliefs differed, but the Druid is a good man and he'd appreciate the opportunity to catch up with his old friend.

Maybe the bard had matured, at least a little, over the years. He did get better at reading the room and understanding others' moods better. He did seem to, over the years, actually show an interest in Geralt besides the economic. But that doesn't mean that Geralt has to enjoy his company. He doesn't. In fact, Geralt's asked Jaskier to leave him alone, in those exact words, over and over again and he's so tired of it. So, very tired.

[witcherfics]

A Summer of Song and Dance

Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier, mention of other Witchers

Pairings: Geraskier, if you squint

Warnings: none

A/N: Am I finally writing something from outside of the Accidental Warlord verse? Yes. Did I write Geralt Whump Week like I said? No. Did I forget about this blog for months until inspiration struck? Definitely. Do I blame an undiagnosed neurodivergence? Yes. Did I lose interest in this fandom until I regained it because it has the best whump? Yes.

All the dances protested here are what I can recall of various European dance styles: Morris dancing, Ukrainian dance, maypole dancing, and Scottish dancing. I was going to include fire dancing, and make it a year round thing, but turns out that's something we stole from other cultures.

The tree was bare, except at the top, where s a small amount of branches remained and long ribbons flowed. It was Beltane, and the people were performing this ritual in hopes of good crops. Men took one side of the pole, and women the other, both facing opposite directions and gripping the ribbons in their hands. As the music started, they moved towards each other, the first couple to meet passing right shoulders, then passing left shoulders with the next person, and so on and so forth, weaving the ribbon as they danced. Jaskier had been invited to join the bad, and Geralt was tolerated as he had freed one of their best fields from a noonwraith. The music played, drinks and food were shared in plenty, and for a moment, Geralt was content with the world, even as the first drops of an early summer rain hit his head.

At another town, a few weeks later, Geralt watched as some men lined up. They wore costumes covered in ribbon, with sleigh bells running up their shins. A few musicians, Jaskier included of course, struck up a quick tune, and the men started stepping in time to the music, skipping in an elaborate pattern and waving flashy flags in the air. Soon, they'd switch out the flags for short sticks, clacking them together in time to the music. The people cheered, clapping to the music.

Geralt wondered if the nearest Witcher school could have used these dances to help the youngest of them train. It takes much strength in the arms and legs to keep up, and they could get used to striking their foe while moving agilely.

It was several months

[witcherfics]

Good to know! I currently have a lot of end of semester stuff to deal with, but as the holidays creep ever closer, I think I'll need some non-Cristmas related fluff and writing for the lovely Inex's AU may be the way to go!

A Mount as Fierce as a Bear

Rating: Teen (For one use of an inappropriate word)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia (briefly), OMCs

Description: Bran finds an orphan in the woods. Though he’s small now, Bran knows that he’ll grow into something fierce.

AN: Look. I know that I said I’d do Geralt Whump Week, but school became super stressful for me, and I had to drop writing fanfiction for a while. I’m back at it though until I go on vacation! @inexplicifics‘  wonderful AU has provided several plot bunnies that live (cram) in my mind rent-free, and this one became very popular, so of course I had to write it.

Keep reading

[witcherfics]

She went home one summer semester, took it off to visit her mother and help on the farm, and it was a bad year. She went out to do the laundry again, and the scarred one was there. He was relieved, he said, to see her, he was worried. She tells him about her studies to become a medical doctor, so she can serve the rural farms in their area that are usually a good distance away from any casual medical help.

The Witcher grinned. "How would you like to learn some older medicine. Healing herbs that will help you if modern medicine runs out?" She takes him up on that offer.

She takes a history of medicine course as an elective next semester, and corrected the teacher on ocassion. The teacher asks how she knows this stuff, and scoffs when she says she met a Witcher.

She goes home for the winter holidays, and when she suggests inviting the three Witchers to share a meal for the winter Solstice, her mom scoffs. She still leaves out some leftovers with a note of apology.

The next semester she takes an elective in historical music. She learns to sing Toss a Coin and The Fishmonger's Daughter, and gets the sheet music for a friend who lives an hour away and plays all sorts of instruments, including the lute, which appears to be making a comeback in folk music circles.

They camp out one night, practicing the songs together around a campfire. She sees reflective eyes in the woods, a flash of silver hair. "Come, join us. We've got plenty of beer to share."

"Those songs were written by the bard Jaskier. Toss A Coin he wrote for me. Said something about improving my image. This... This is his notebook. Take some pictures, if you like. You sing his songs well."

They stayed up late, sometimes talking and sometimes not. He was gone when they woke in the morning. Later, the scarred one thanked them for giving that experience to his brother. He needed it, apparently.

I happened to be looking for/listening to a bunch of spooky late-night road trip tales around the time some Modern AU Geralt posts were floating around, and thinking about how headlights make everything look creepy. Modern AU where everything is the same, except your aunt’s neighbor swears she saw a Witcher on a 2 AM long haul once, stumbling out of the bog by the road. Meanwhile, if you work at a Denny’s or other late-night diners, Witcher sightings are a regular thing.

[witcherfics]

I'm thinking that KM is subalpine at least, so in my fic there are bees and maybe some apple trees in a part protected from the wind or maybe the garden, and other fruits would have to come from villages (I do have a workaround for the gardens, don't worry) and would be very seasonal. Enter Witchers lamenting their lack of access to fresh fruit and berries and Jaskier solving this problem.

Warning: new ficlet coming from WitcherFics if I can get the plotbunnies to cooperate. I still gotta write it, which means doing some research first, but it's going to concern sweet-tooths, a lack of apples, oranges, and sugarcanes, and Jaskier leading a project for once.

Ooooh!

Yeah, at this point I think we’ve got honey and sugar beets, and fruit.

[witcherfics]

So, First Things First

1) I don't have AO3. I am ashamed of the fic I started then abandoned when I was 13 and I have avoided logging in ever since.

2) Fics will be tagged as if on the Archive. Non-fics will be tagged a little more loosely.

3) Anything mature will be tagged with the same warnings as used on the archive, and the post will have specific triggers listed above the Read More. If you read this, then click Read More, and THEN get upset with the content you come across, that's ENTIRELY on you, and I have no patience for you.

3. b) I enjoy writing suffering. That will be most of the content I post. There will be whump almost on the daily or until I run out of ideas.

4) I will take requests in my inbox so long as I don't get overloaded, and I reserve the right to say no for any reason even including "Don't feel like writing it but that sounds neat." Mature fics will take a few days more than usual as I am on mobile most of the time and need to wait for a spare moment with the laptop to add the Read More cut. I will try to queu if I expect a heavy load of school work, but I am a college student first and a writer second.

4. b) Before you ask, no smut. It makes me feel embarrassed. I will write fade-to-blacks and fics that deal with r*pe. In the case of the latter, it's very non-graphic and focused on the whump and recovery after; I see it as another way to hurt my characters.

4. c) The only AU's I will write are canon divergence. I will write many of these. Cannon is more a general guideline.

4. d) No reader-inserts either. It annoys me when the fic says I do something that is out of character for me and I have sworn off the genre completely.