Writing horses - a loveletter

Something I have noticed while writing is just how very much googling one has to do. Especially when writing something you are not very familiar with. Animals in particular can be very tricky, and in our witcher fandom we have a darling horse as a very important character. Where Geralt goes, Roach goes. 

As a horse girl myself I have a lot to stand on already (though language sometimes fail me, as I am not a native English speaker) while writing horse girl Geralt, (My Beloved), but not everybody has had the opportunity to spend time with a horse more than maybe a happy(or terrible, if you met a pony) memory.

Here are some easy things to help you write behavior, sounds, habits or needs. Just generally horse things. This is not perfect, nor complete, there is a lot of ground to cover, but this is an attempt to give writers the tools to write a horse. :) 

I won’t mention gear, colors, gates etc, and attempt to give you tidbits of what google hides.

I’d like to point out, they are all individuals, and like humans have very different views on the world. Some are very dominant, some are very dramatic, some are very calm and trusting, some have a wicked sense of humor. 

If you have seldom or possibly not met a horse at all but have other pets, it is easier to compare them to cats and dogs. 

General behavior/body language can be more cat-like, elegant, spooking for nothing, independent, flicking tail when annoyed, and some of them can - like cats - be really picky about the people around them. 

Social behavior is closer to dogs. Their chosen person/s or herd are very important to them, they can be very loyal, trusting and protective of them. Playful behavior can be nudges with their nose, whinnying when they see you, or what I call ‘lipping’ after you. Basically using their lips for either attention, begging for sweets, or just being playful.

A saying I have heard in the horse world is; A gelding you tell. A Stallion you ask. A mare, you send three different copies to her secretary, and she will get back to you in 2-3 work weeks. Sums up their personalities pretty good.

Horses are just funky family members, 

Horse behaviour:

-In General, horses are quiet animals. Making too much sound can attract predators. 

They knicker/whinny when they they are about to get food (and you are aaalways to slow), when they flirt or when they see another horse, or a rare shrill whine (iiiih!) while protesting. Of course, that is also an individual thing, some horses are really talkative while others are very silent. (Mine does old man grunts every time he starts trotting or while pooping… Hard work that.)

-Horses read your body language and react to it, even if you are in the saddle. Again, this is a training/personality/bonding thing, but a rider that is tense or stressed will have a tense and stressed horse. If you are calm when things are scary, the horse is more likely to be calmer in a stressed or dangerous situation.

-In comparison, when a horse is relaxed, their ears can point “outwards”, lowering slightly, rest one hind leg by cocking it, neck lowering. There are a lot of small little signs too, but that is how in depth you want to go. That also means they can read strangers, and decide that they do not like them.

-Horses can walk for a long time, yes, but gallop/canter for hours takes a lot out of them. Think of the last time you wore a really heavy backpack when you were out walking, and how tiring that can be.

If you have played The Witcher 3, you might recognize the horse’s fear-bar rising when getting closer to something dangerous, and her reaction when it fills. If she is terrified, she can either start running away from the danger, or attempt to buck you off. In this case, Geralt has Axii to rely on, but the rest of us mortals have to rely on the bond with our horses, the trust between us.

Some horses are trained to be brave, or even defend. 

Think of police horses or war horses. They go where the rider says, because of their bond and because they trust that their rider will keep them safe. In turn, a horse can feel protective over you, and sometimes that is trained into them.

Think of war horses in this instance, who will trample enemies, use their front legs when they rear up on their hind legs, wave them around, or their hind legs to kick - hard. 

This usually takes training or some really strong loyalty, as their first instinct is usually to flee.

Fun things horses can do:

-Horses can be ticklish, mostly around their stomachs.

-When they burst into gallop suddenly and/or kick with their hind legs, they very often fart at the same time. (usually this is a happy thing)

-When a horse is nervous, they poop. Gotta lighten the load in case they need to run, you know.

-Oh, and horses love to smell other horses poop. It’s very important to see who was there before them.

-Horses sometimes play with objects in their enclosure like dogs do, sometimes by throwing it around, shaking their head up and down, sometimes letting it go and see it sail to the other side of their enclosure, just to go fetch it and start all over again.

-They’re smart as hell, you can teach them to play games like ‘which hand has the treat’

-They will do weird things with their lips and head when you find that *one* spot they really want scratched, and attempt to scratch back at you with their lip, or just the air because you are too far away.

-Some horses when they are bored, they make things happen. Or overreacts, because that is fun. Oh my ACTUAL god is that a rock?!?! Freakout imminent.

-Horses can be mischievous. They know they are not allowed and will either sneak to get their will done, or stare you down as they do it. It could be sniffing/shaking a bag, using their leg to kick over a water bucket. 

Less fun things horses can do:

-If the horse is distracted, untrained or doesn't know you very well, sometimes they forget humans have feet too, and might stand on them.

-They are deserving of all the grass. All of it. Now. Will not listen to nudges, kicking, pulling or otherwise. Grass is always more important

-When recently bathed, or just brushed down, there is nothing better than to roll in the grass. Or dirt. Or mud. Anything sticky they can find, really.

-Depending on horse personality, everything can be a potential danger. Sometimes it can be wells, sometimes hanging laundry, sudden burst of bird from a field, or even just waving your own hat to fan yourself in the heat.

(Though, mind, a horse that is on the road a lot like Roach might not care overly much unless she is feeling real dramatic that day or there is a real threat)

-If fleeing from possible danger, they can make a really sharp turn, spin on the spot or jump sideways/backwards. A really good way for you to meet the ground if you are not very steady in the saddle, being prepared for it doesn’t always help!  

-Some horses are really bothered by insects and will constantly flick their tail, shake, or even try to reach the insect biting them with hoof or teeth until relieved

Caring for the horse:

-Horses eat a lot. It can be wheat/oats if you want Geralt to bring food for her, and grass. At a farm, horses will eat a lot of hay mostly, and many of them sleep in straw. 

-Sleeping is important for horses, and since they are prey animals, that can be a tricky business. When with other horses, there is usually at least one standing up, standing guard as the others sleep lying down. If inside, or feeling safe enough (or being tired enough) they mostly sleep lying down. But not for too long. The downside of weighing around 500kg is that your body can’t lay down for too long, it can be really dangerous even. Another reason why they can lock their legs while standing up to sleep.

-Much of the time, you can think of a horse as an athlete. They carry heavy stuff, they can get stiff and sore, and they need to train to get strong and get good stamina. If you want them to perform very well, like racing, working on the farm, carrying heavy things for you like stinky griffin heads, they need maintenance and training. Think Athlete. 

-When the horses are done for the day, or taking a break, you want to loosen the saddle girth, or take off the saddle entirely. Think of it as tossing off your bra at the end of a long day!

-Brushing is important! It cleans out the coat, reducing the risk of chafing and helping with blood circulation. It is also a bonding moment, and a good time to notice if the horse have gotten hurt anywhere.

-A common hurt for horses that go fast is stepping on the backside of their own hoof, or a branch or even their own legs hitting the inside of the legs on the area that is called cannon.

If you want to embellish your horse writing, here are some fun, personality building things you can use:

-Some horses are really mindful of their space. They don’t like other horses too close and will try to make them to back the fuck off with either teeth or a small kick.

-A very dominant horse, meaning someone who might be a leader of the herd, might be harder to read if they are ill, or challenge your decisions, doing the exact opposite of what you are asking, if moving at all.

-If a mare is in heat, she can be oh so peevish. If you nudge her with your heel, she can attempt to kick back, make that shrill sounds or even try to buck you off. They also pee a lot while in heat, like dogs do. (Heats can be compared to pms if you are familiar, uncomfortable, making you moody and sometimes ouchy, but again, individual.)

-Also some ‘smile’ by flipping their top lip up and showing their teeth - sometimes they do it bc they smell something funky but sometimes they just do it to be cute

There are so many things to add here, and there is no way to make justice years of time spent with and around horses. Every breed is a little different, every personality its own. The bond between a human and their horse can be very special and hard to explain, but oh so very precious. Sometimes they are a work friend and sometimes family, sometimes both.

Just enjoy your writing, and I hope this was helpful to make you more comfortable in writing horses. <3

(oh, and feel free to ask questions if there is something you are wondering!)

one of the most least-important, yet favorite things about the witcher for me is that i initially felt the usage of latin to add emphasize in the characters' dialogue was, if you'll forgive me, pretentious, in a word, and strange outside of the mouths of characters who were intellectuals and scholars.

until i began to read interviews with sapkowski, and a little bit of his other writing, during which i realized, no, he just talks like that, peppering in aphorisms, sayings, and phrases in latin and other languages. and then the habit became less pretentious to me and, instead, endearing, as it made me realize that the characters, in fact speaking in the altered voice of their author, haven't been altered, but rather are the result of a natural flow of thought and storywriting...

was reading an otherwise thoroughly engaging fic that reminded me: if i could wave a magic wand and instantly inform the entirety of witcher fandom of one (1) thing, it would probably be the fact that in standard english, we don't say horses have fur! when you reach for a word to describe the short coat of hair that covers most of their bodies, the word you want is generally just that: 'coat.'

in fairness, hair and fur are chemically identical (they're both just keratin), so there's no real scientific reason it should be wrong to say a horse has fur; but alas, our willful, mongrel language evolved to discriminate on the basis of fluffiness. and as a result, to anyone who's aware of that, what ought to be a perfectly reasonable choice of description instead sounds really distractingly off—for evidence, just see the fact that i'm here writing this post, instead of finishing the (otherwise very satisfying!) fic i'd been in the middle of! /o\

The Princess and The Wolf || PART 1 || Geralt of Rivia x Reader

Summary: A look inside the complicated love story between the runaway princess and the lone wolf that saved her.

Warnings: fluff, angst, mutual pining, really bittersweet, heavy narration and not much dialogue, female reader (use of she/her pronouns//reader is a princess), mentions of blood and injuries (reader heals Geralt’s wounds), my shitty titles (I’m so bad at it, I’m so sorry)

English is not my first language

Word count: 5000

Notes: Look,  I was in the mood for writing something cute and fluffy and magical (but also it's Geralt so it as to be angsty). I know those are probably not the words that come to your mind when you think of Geralt, but let me change your mind! Also I love writing healers/nature witches. Can you tell my fav character as a kid was Flora from Winx Club? 

This is my first time writing something like this (as in this style of narrative and for this character in particular) so be gentle!

READ PART 2 HERE

Geralt was not used to feeling that way. In his many years of living on this earth, he had never missed anyone the way he missed her. He was a lone wolf who, despite having his pack, enjoyed traveling from town to town with his horse as his only companion. He enjoyed the silence and tranquility, and did not tend to miss home too much —finding that his annual visits in the winter were more than enough to catch up with his brothers while healing his wounds. 

However, he did miss her when he was traveling. He missed feeling the warm touch of her skilled hands on his wounds as she healed him. He missed waking up to the sound of her laughter, talking to her cat as she prepared breakfast. He even missed her scolding and the look of concern she gave him every time he arrived at the door of her cabin hidden in the forest, injured. She made him feel special, often occupying his thoughts and dreams. He knew what it was, but refused to call it by name —if he did, it became real and he didn't know if he was ready for that.

Such was his longing to see her that he was almost happy to be wounded in battle, finding the perfect excuse to show up at her door once again. His wounds were deep, the beast's venom slowly spreading through his system. Were it not for the fact that he was close to her home, Geralt was fairly certain he would not have reached her in time. His healing skills were limited and only served to make his journey to the hut more bearable. Yet, the closer he got to her, the less his body ached. The promise of her company alone was enough to cure his afflictions.

Geralt was weak when he arrived at her door. From the way her natural cheerful expression turned into a worried grimace when she saw him on the other side of the wood, it was safe to assume he was not looking good. She rushed him to bed, asking him a thousand questions as she paced back and forth, gathering the necessary herbs and potions to treat his wounds. He answered no more than necessary, giving her just enough information to treat him and sparing her the details of his journey. 

He was distracted, his mind clouded by the lack of blood and the poison spreading through his body, but also by the sweet floral scent that surrounded him. It was a perfume he could only describe as the very essence of her, a mixture of jasmine, roses and a hint of vanilla that followed her everywhere, leaving a special scent in the air that assaulted the witcher's nostrils, rendering him powerless. 

"Drink this," she told him as she offered him a vial of a pale green liquid. It was a potion that would help with the poison, she explained, though he needed no reason to obey her. Geralt trusted her completely and would have drank anything she offered without question. 

"Try to hold still, this might sting a little." She warned him, pushing his clothes aside so she could treat the deep gash in his chest. She smeared her fingers with a paste that had a peculiar odor, rubbing it over her hands to warm it before directing them to the wound. Geralt was met with a burning sensation that spread from his wound to the rest of his chest as soon as her fingers made contact with his skin. He let out a grunt, fighting the spasms of his muscles to allow her to work comfortably. However, the burning was soon replaced by a sensation of pleasant warmth as she uttered an incantation in the ancient tongue. 

He concentrated on the harmonious sound of her voice, letting the words transport him back to that first time they had found themselves in a similar situation. He had been hired by the king to assassinate the beast that had killed the princess. It was said that it prowled the forest after sunset, it was there that the young girl had met her fatal fate. Her love for nature and the long walks under the moonlight was what had ultimately made her an easy prey for that monster. Geralt did not retain the specific details of that story, only what was useful to analyze his enemy. Had he done so, he might have realized that there were strange things in the story that would make any Witcher suspicious. And perhaps then he would not have been so surprised when he found the princess very much alive and well, wandering through the forest alone.

"Please, don't make me go back there." She had begged him after explaining that she had taken advantage of the beast's convenient appearance to escape from her home. "There's nothing waiting for me back there, only a future of unhappiness and subjugation to a man that doesn't respect me."

"I was hired to kill a beast and that's all I intend to do." Was his reply. He was more than ready to continue on his way, to leave her behind to sort out her fate while he dealt with what he had been hired to do, but the princess did not give him the opportunity. She begged for his help to escape from there, she didn't care where he took her as long as he got her as far away from her kingdom as possible. Her escape had not been planned, but a last minute decision that had not allowed her to pack supplies or even steal a horse from the stable. Still, she had been able to travel a fairly long way on foot, but it was evident that she could not continue like this much longer.

"I can't pay you in coin," she told him. "But I can make sure you survive your battle."

Geralt felt sorry for the young woman and was going to help her without asking for anything in return. He really doubted that she had anything valuable to offer him. He was a Witcher, an assassin highly trained in both combat and the arts of magic, tools he used to keep himself alive in the high-risk situations he lived in on a regular basis. However, his mercy proved useful after the battle, when the young princess demonstrated her healing abilities.

His wounds were deep, he was tired and his skin was painted with the reddish sticky liquid that ran through the beast's veins. But still, he was able to crawl to safety where she waited for him with his horse Roach. When she saw him approaching on the horizon she jumped to her feet, hands full of herbs she had gathered in preparation for that moment. Geralt could see nothing but a halo of light in the distance, a figure of hope running towards him with hair flying in the wind as it called his name.

He collapsed against a tree trunk, his breath hitching as the world around him became blurry and dark. He was not unconscious, but neither was he able to process what was happening around him. His memories of that moment were blurry, like a dream slipping from his mind upon awakening. The only thing he remembered clearly was a sweet female voice calling him back to life as soft hands caressed his skin, spreading their comforting warmth inside him.

Geralt had felt peace for the first time in a long while as her hands worked their magic on him, just as he felt at this very moment as her fingers caressed his skin once again. It always happened, her touch alone flooded his insides with peace and tranquility. Maybe that was why he missed her so much, maybe that was why he found himself visiting her for the simplest injuries that even he could heal. Unlike other healers, she was the only one who could calm his tormented soul, the only one who could quiet his thoughts and remove all traces of bitter negativity from his heart. 

"Rest." He heard her whisper in his ear and as much as he wanted to, he didn't have the strength to open his eyes and look at her one more time. Geralt knew he was tired, but only now, in the quiet of her company and wrapped in the warmth of her body, did he realize just how much. 

When he opened his eyes again it was morning. The rays of sunlight streaming through the window touched his face in a warm caress. His pupils were forced to adjust to the light as he opened his eyes, narrowing to almost two slits identical to those of the black cat resting beside him. The animal meowed contentedly as he shifted between the sheets —letting out a grunt of pain at the heaviness of his muscles. He stroked the cat as it purred at him, scratching its head and behind its ears as he knew it liked, before making an effort to get out of bed. His body ached and he still felt tired, but given what he had been through, he was lucky to be alive. 

Geralt heard the sweet sound of the young woman's voice echoing down the hallway like a melodious murmur that filled his heart with joy. It came from the garden, so that was where he went. He found her having a conversation with Roach, brushing the horse's mane while complaining about him to the animal as if it could talk back. They were harmless comments that he knew she didn't mean, though he'd heard them in the past —complaints about his recklessness and lack of responsibility as a horse owner were never lacking. She was especially fond of animals, so she loved to talk to his horse as if he were a human being. She did it with her cat as well, and with any animal that crossed her path. Geralt found it entertaining, though a bit excessive —especially when they traveled together and she made him stop every so often to pet and chat with every rabbit and squirrel in their path.

"What are you doing out of bed? You need to rest!" She scolded him as soon as her eyes landed on him. As firm as her gaze was, he could see concern rather than anger or annoyance reflected in them.

"I would have stayed in bed if I hadn't felt the need to come out and defend my good name." He played along, the corner of his mouth curving ever so slightly upward in an almost imperceptible movement. "I can't have you filling Roach's head with lies about me."

"They are not lies!" She grumbled, folding her arms in exaggerated annoyance. "You are reckless and you don't give poor Roach enough attention." At her words, the animal thumped its front left paw against the ground as if it understood what she had said and agreed. Geralt huffed, shaking his head slightly in disbelief.

"You already turned her against me." She laughed and it was like music to his ears, a melodious tone that awakened happiness within him. 

"I don't have to, she is a smart creature." She fired back, giving the horse a couple of gentle pets before setting aside what she was doing to focus her attention on him. "But seriously, you need to get back in bed."

"I'm fine." It wasn't a complete lie, but it wasn't the truth either. She looked at him steadily and Geralt knew she thought she looked intimidating, but with the way the light of the rising sun framed her figure and the gentle breeze moving her hair, he saw nothing more than a forest fairy. The most beautiful and innocent fairy he had ever seen. He was tempted to challenge her just to tease her and make her grumble. She looked adorable when she pointed an accusatory finger at him believing that something she did or said could intimidate the Witcher. In the end he decided not to do so and instead accompanied her back into the house, though he did not lie down again, but sat with her at the kitchen table. 

She insisted on preparing breakfast on her own, arguing that he was her guest and that he was badly injured, so Geralt had the opportunity to admire her as she moved about the room, humming under her breath melodies he did not recognize. It made him genuinely happy to see her acting so freely around him, thinking about how far their relationship had come. When he had first met her, she was far from the confident, free spirit she was now. She was quiet and reserved, barely asking him questions from time to time to fill the void of silence and always apologizing for everything.

It was more than mere distrust of a stranger, Geralt could see in her eyes that she was trapped inside herself, a cocoon of fears and insecurities that trapped in its intricate net the beautiful butterfly that lurked within. She would show her true colors from time to time, like when he would catch her talking to Roach when she thought he was sleeping, or when she would make them stop to help a wounded animal. But she always apologized immediately afterwards, as if she realized too late that she had done something wrong, something she wasn't supposed to do. It made Geralt wonder what kind of life she had left behind when she ran away from home. 

He was not a man of many words and was used to traveling alone and in silence, accompanied only by the chirping of birds and the crunching of dry leaves under Roach's hooves, but when it came to her he felt a strange need to hear her speak. Perhaps it was the harmonious tone of her voice, or maybe the fact that he could tell she needed to express herself, but he didn't mind when she rambled absentmindedly as they traveled, putting into words every thought that crossed her mind. 

"I was never meant to be a princess, no matter what my blood says." She had confessed to him one afternoon as they walked through the forest. "The traditions, the politics, the expectations... I was never good at any of that."

"Is that why you ran away?" His question took her by surprise. He barely spoke to her so she assumed he wasn't listening to her most of the time. When she turned to look at him she found his yellow eyes fixed on her, making her feel small under his intense gaze.

"I wanted to be free." She answered honestly. "I refused to live trapped inside a castle for another day, pretending to be someone I'm not, pleasing everybody but myself... I want to forge my own path, build my own destiny. I have no idea what I'm doing or if it will even work, but I owe it to myself to try."

Geralt admired her for that. She wasn't sure what she wanted, but she knew what she didn't want and had had the courage to do something about it. That was why he was so glad things were going well for her. She deserved her freedom, she deserved to have the space to find herself and live her life on her terms. Her bravery had been rewarded.

"How are you feeling?" She asked him as she set a plate of food in front of him, her voice bringing him out of his thoughts. 

"I'm fine."

"Are you? Or are you doing that thing you do all the time when you pretend not to need anyone's help?" She looked at him with a raised eyebrow, proud of herself for knowing him so well. 

Geralt sighed. "I'm a bit sore and tired, but I'll live." He finally confessed.

"That's normal, you were really hurt. I'm amazed that you got here in one piece." 

"You should have seen the other guy." He joked sarcastically and she rolled her eyes.

"I'm being serious, Geralt. The poison could have killed you."

"It didn't."

"Only because of your slow heartbeat, but what if next time you don't get so lucky?" The tone of the conversation suddenly changed as they looked into each other's eyes. The familiar heavy tension in the air, making it hard to breathe. 

It was her greatest fear. She feared there would come a day when Geralt's wounds would be so bad that even she wouldn't be able to heal them. She feared it almost as much as never opening the door again and finding him on the other side. The thought of him dying, at home or out on the battlefield, terrified her. She knew it was stupid since he was a Witcher, a being genetically modified to face the greatest dangers, whose purpose in life was to kill monsters. She knew the smart thing to do would have been to get away from him in time, before his absence hurt her as much as it did. She knew there was no point in worrying about someone who had made peace with the idea of dying in battle, but she did it anyway. She couldn't help but fear for his safety the moment he set foot outside her home, worrying until he would eventually show up there again.

"Just... be careful." She muttered after a few seconds of silence, swallowing her emotions as a lump formed in her throat.

Geralt could see the pain in her eyes, the fear and worry shining in them clearly. He felt the need to assure her that he would be all right, but they both knew that was a lie. In his line of work one could never be sure of anything. Things could change very quickly and even he could be surprised with the cold caress of death sooner than expected. The best he could do was to assure her that he would do everything in his power to get back to her.

"I will be." 

That wasn't enough to dissipate the young woman's fears, but it was enough to calm her worries for the moment. Instead of concentrating on things she couldn't control, she chose to turn her attention to the things she could. After breakfast she inspected Geralt's wounds once more to make sure they were healing properly. With the help of her magic and the speed with which the Witcher's body regenerated, the deep gash that adorned his chest was now no more than a scratch. The skin was still red and irritated, but it was in better condition than just a few hours ago. The same with the rest of the cuts and scratches that graced the rest of his body, some of which had already disappeared completely, leaving behind a slightly discolored line on the skin.

She sat beside him as she worked, rubbing a healing paste of her own creation over what was left of his wounds. She focused her energy on him, eyes glued to the skin of his chest as she let her fingers work their magic. She knew it probably wasn't necessary, given the rapid evolution of his cuts they would most likely be practically healed in a couple more hours. But she wanted to do it. She didn't like to see him hurt, even if it was something that happened regularly. He always came to her bruised and bloody, but even then she never got used to seeing him like that. She hated to see him suffer, so when he was with her she would go out of her way to heal all the wounds on his body no matter how small or insignificant. She wanted to make her home a sanctuary for him, a place free of pain and danger where they were safe to be together.

Geralt could feel her energy enveloping him, the warmth her body radiated caressing his skin delicately. The scent of her hair flooded his nostrils, filling his lungs with that sweet floral perfume that was so distinctive to him. It was intoxicating, a drug he couldn't quit. He allowed himself to get lost in the moment, enjoying the soft touch of her hands on his chest and shoulders as he admired her work. She was beautiful, like a flower full of color and life that only grew stronger with each of his visits. Her smile, a ray of sunshine that lit up the gray, cloudy sky that was his life. And her eyes... oh her eyes. Geralt could get lost in them for hours, reading in her reflection every little thought that went through her head. To him she was an open book, the most fascinating he had read in a long time.

She became slightly nervous when she looked up and met Geralt's intense gaze fixed on her. They were close, too close to each other for her not to feel intimidated under the watchful admiration of his amber orbs. And yet, she couldn't look away from him. She couldn't help but marvel at the sharp angles of his features, counting the small scars that adorned his skin as her eyes traveled down his face. Those were two traits that people normally found intimidating about him. He had the face of a reckless warrior, a lone wolf with no feelings that augured trouble. But she knew him better than that, she knew the man behind the rumors and knew there was much more to his story and his character. When she looked at him she saw more than the dangerous Witcher. She saw the man who had saved her from her terrible fate, the one she missed and longed for when he was far away, the only man who occupied her thoughts. 

Geralt's eyes strayed to her lips as she caressed them with her tongue. It was an innocent act but he felt it as a temptation, a challenge he had every intention of accepting. He leaned forward, feeling her warm, slightly quickened breath colliding and mingling with his own. He held still for a moment, waiting for her to pull back and move away. When she didn't, Geralt moved a little closer to her until he felt the tip of her nose brush against his. When he looked up one last time, he noticed that she was looking at him with half lidded eyes, completely at his mercy. She was in a trance, lost in the deep amber of his eyes, with no thought in her mind but him. It was the moment they had both been waiting for, the culmination of all the tension that had built up.

But before they could join their lips in the long-awaited kiss, the sound of the cat jumping on top of the table interrupted them. The animal's meow broke the trance and she realized what was about to happen. Embarrassed, she pulled away from Geralt immediately, mumbling something about feeding the cat as she disappeared from his vision. He would be lying if he said he wasn't disappointed, still longing to feel her lips on his, but perhaps it was for the best. If he kissed her he would never want to stop or leave again, and he knew that wasn't possible. His place was out there on the road with his horse as his only companion. He was not meant to stay in one place for long, his profession had taken that privilege away from him long ago.

“Your wounds are almost healed.” She stated as she returned to the room, picking up the cat and setting it down off the table. It was an excuse so she wouldn't have to look him in the eye when talking, something to occupy herself so she wouldn't think about what had just happened.

"Guess I'll be leaving tonight then." He was in no hurry to leave, he would gladly stay another week there with her if he could, but he knew that wasn't wise. He could never stay too long with her since he always feared the effects it might have. The more time he spent with her, sharing moments of domestic intimacy, the harder it was for him to get back on the road. The last time he had been there he had ended up running away in the middle of the night, knowing he couldn't leave if he had to look her in the eye and say goodbye. And now he feared that nothing had changed, so he had to get out of there before it was too late.

"I would rather you stay one more night and rest here." She said in a soft tone, trying to hide the true meaning behind her words. She didn't want him to leave, not yet. "Your physical wounds might be healing fast but don't forget that you were poisoned and you almost died. Witcher or not, that's a lot." 

"I'll be fine."

"Maybe, but would it kill you to stay here one more night for my own sake? Because if you walk through that door now, I will spend the rest of my days worrying about you until I see you again." She finally worked up the courage to look at him, pleading with her eyes for him to listen to her. She knew that if he wanted to leave there was nothing she could do to stop him, so she hoped he would have mercy on her. "I just want to make sure that you're alright."

Geralt couldn't refuse her even if he wanted to, not when she was looking at him with big, bright eyes full of love. Not when her voice was almost a whisper, as if she was afraid he would hear her. He understood the feeling, the fear of admitting what he really felt. But it was easier that way. It was the best thing for both of them. Their lives were incompatible as were their personalities. 

She was a nice sunny summer afternoon and he was a harsh winter night. She was a ray of sunshine that with her warm touch awakened life in everything around her and he was the cold, cruel snow that buried everything under a layer of ice. Maybe that was why he felt this inexplicable attraction to her, as if they were connected by an invisible thread that pulled him to her every time he tried to walk away. Her warmth melted the ice around him, allowing new things to blossom in the fertile soil. Only he didn't know if there was anything left under the ice that could bloom. If so, he had to be careful because her warmth, though pleasant and comforting, could lead to his doom.

Still, he ignored his brain's warnings, giving in to her pleas. They spent the day together and Geralt allowed himself to lose himself in the intimacy and domestic bliss of the moment. He indulged in the fantasy of a life by her side as he admired her dancing around the kitchen while cooking or moving among the plants as she tended to her garden, talking to the squirrels and birds that wandered by. He delighted in the sound of her voice as she called his name and enjoyed her melodious laughter. 

When the sun went down, she lay beside him on the bed, talking nonsense until her eyelids began to feel heavy. She denied being sleepy several times, assuring him that she was just resting her eyes. Geralt snorted, but said nothing, listening intently to the story she was telling him about a deer she had saved from death between masked yawns. She didn't get to finish the story, not consciously at least. She mumbled a couple of almost inaudible gibberish before falling asleep, fighting her last battle against her body's need for rest.

Geralt watched her sleep for a good while, his eyes admiring the peace on her face in the dim candlelight. She had never looked so ethereal, with her hair spread out on the pillow like a halo around her head, and her chest rising and falling slowly with her calm breathing. Her skin was soft under his touch, a stark contrast to the roughness of his fingers bruised from all the fighting and constant use of the sword. She was the most beautiful piece of art, a sculpture carved by the gods themselves. He almost felt unworthy to be by her side, the softness of her features reminding him once again how different they were, how wrong his feelings were. 

He got out of bed with a heavy heart, searching for his things while being very careful not to make a sound so as not to alert her. He couldn't stay there one more night, if he woke up in the morning with her by his side he would never want to leave and he knew very well that it wouldn't end well. So, he placed a soft kiss on her forehead, just a brush of his lips against her skin as a farewell.

Geralt disappeared into the darkness of the night without leaving any trace of his presence. When she opened her eyes the next morning she was disappointed to find herself alone in bed. She didn't have to leave the room to know he was gone, she could feel his absence in the air. She felt lonely and cold again, already missing the warmth that filled her whenever he was around. Letting out a tired sigh, she dropped into a chair near the door. Her eyes were glued to the wood, her mind filled with thoughts of Geralt. She wondered if he was alright and if he was missing her as much as she was missing him. 

And just like that, the cycle continued, his departure leading the way to the stage of uncertainty and worry that grew in her with each passing day as she awaited his return. Her eyes remained glued to the door at all times, her ears attentive to the sounds waiting to hear Roach's footsteps approaching in the distance. She hated this moment. She hated not hearing from Geralt. She hated not being able to hear his low, raspy voice or feel the warmth of his body against hers. She hated the amount of energy she wasted worrying about him. But most of all, she hated knowing that all her suffering would be worth it the moment he came knocking on her door again.

I have more ideas for these two so if you guys like it let me know!

PART 2 HERE

El Tango De Geralt ~Geralt x Reader angst~

Another song fic for Geralt? Yes of course. "But Mimi nobody asked for this" you say. Doesn't matter, it's giving me brain rot until I produce it. Yes I am into musicals and that's how i keep coming up with these. You're welcome. If you know Moulin Rouge, I would imagine those settings and characters for this one.

That damn woman. Every time she shows up, she ruins everything.That absolute hag. You hated that damn witch. Yennefer of Vengerberg. You didn't see her often but when she did happen to be in the same town as you, it was like you no longer existed to Geralt. You didn't know what hold she had over him but it really pissed you off. Geralt was finally back in town to see you but when she showed up, it was like you were invisible.

You knew something was up when Jaskier came to see you, looking for his witcher companion. You were finishing up the rehearsals on a sensual piece for your cabaret group. You were one of the lead performers at the large burlesque establishment and were well known throughout the country.

You hadn't seen Geralt all morning. You figured he'd wanted to rest after riding all afternoon the day before and then spending that night with you, showing you just how much he had missed you. Setting off in search for him, Jaskier not far behind, you paused when you noticed a familiar black horse tied up at the stables across the road. "Jaskier...that's not her horse, is it?" Jaskier followed your gaze and sighed heavily. "Unfortunately yes..she arrived this morning I believe. That's why I've been trying to find Geralt. I want to make sure he doesn't do anything stupid." Jaskier admitted.

Your heart dropped to your stomach and you took off running towards your quarters, praying Geralt was still there. Dread filled you when you found your room empty. You took off again, Jaskier calling out for you when he couldn't keep up. You ignored him and headed back in the direction of your cabaret. Suddenly a familiar smell reached your nose. Lilac and gooseberries...her fucking perfume. You followed the smell until you came to the local baths. You prayed even harder as you searched the building for Geralt. Surely, if he was in here, she would be also.

You rounded a corner and came to a full stop. Your eyes widened in horror as you took in the sight in front of you. Geralt was in one of the large pools...but so was she. Her naked chest was pressed to his, her face inches from his. He made no moves to push her away as her hands ran down his chest. Her lips brushed against his, causing you to let out a choked cry of anger. "Geralt?!" You exclaimed, fury filling you. Geralt seemed to snap out of his trace at the sound of your voice. Surprise made its way onto his face and he moved Yennefer away from him. "Y/N-" he started. But you refused to let him finish. You whirled around just as Jaskier caught up to you. "Ah, finally caught you. Did you find-oh..." He stopped as he took in your anger-filled face and Geralt naked with Yennefer in the background. You pushed past Jaskier, tears stinging your eyes as you ran back to your cabaret.

You made your way inside and immediately were comforted by your dancers. They knew as soon as they saw you what was wrong. "It's okay, honey. He doesn't deserve your tears." One of them, Isa, called over to the men who guarded the doors. "Don't let no Witcher in until Y/N says it's okay." She rubbed your shoulders as you cried. Another one of your girls spoke up. "Listen sweetie, you deserve better. You show that bastard what he's missing and then drop him. He wants some other skank, she can have him. You don't need this."

Wiping your eyes, you realized they were right. Besides, you had a performance tonight and couldn't let this ruin the show. You took a few minutes to calm down and relax and then had everyone prepare for the performance.

As you and the girls were getting ready you heard commotion at the front. As you went out to see what was wrong, Frenchie, one of your male leads, stopped you. "It's him sweetie, he's causin' trouble cause they won't let him in to see you. I don't think you should go out there alone." You smiled softly at him and patted his arm. "Thank you, Frenchie. I'll be alright. I can handle him." You gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek and continued out. You saw one of your guards wiping his bloody lip, three more struggling to hold Geralt. "It's alright, boys. You can let him go." You said, staring coldly at him. He ripped his arms free from their grip and made his way over to you. "Y/N, please let me explain." You held up your hand to stop him. "You have nothing to say to me, Geralt. Clearly you've made your choice. Now, I have a performance to get ready for. I'm sure you and your witch have other things to do." You snapped. Your heart ached to be this cruel to him but you wanted to get over him. You turned back to your guards. "If the Witcher would like to see the performance tonight, he is allowed to enter." "Yes ma'am." They answered.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Looking out of the curtains you saw Geralt in the audience. You sighed, knowing this performance was as good as a goodbye to him. You wanted him to know how much he hurt you and this was going to do just that. The soft guitar played as the dancers moved to their places. As the violins chimed in and the tango began, you made your way onto the stage. Frenchie was singing his part in his signature growl. You met Geralt's golden eyes briefly before taking a breath and beginning your part.

Her eyes upon your face

Her hand upon your hand

Her lips caress your skin

It's more than I can stand

The dancers moved and swayed around you. The audience was staring at you intently, deeply invested in the story you were telling.

Why does my heart cry?

Feelings I can't fight

Geralt watched you, realization and guilt forming on his face as it dawned on him that this performance was about him. You stared hard into his eyes as you sang out your words.

You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me

And please, believe me when I say I love you

The dancers whirled around you as the music sped up. You held Geralt's gaze the entire time. The fire from the lamps lighting the stage danced in your eyes. You felt the heat from your anger rise in you. Tears fell down your face, your teeth clenched tight. Your hands balled into fists as you belted out.

Why does my heart cry?

Feelings I can't fight

You're free to leave me, but just don't deceive me

And please, believe me when I say I love you

Your choir sang out their anguished cries of your chorus, cementing the anger and hurt of both you and your character. Geralt's eyes never left your face as the music intensified and the chorus cried out the ending of the song.

The audience stood as they erupted into applause. The only one who didn't move was Geralt. You glared coldly at him, tears falling steadily now, before whirling around and disappearing from the stage. You knew he would try to follow you, but you just couldn't....

You never wanted to see him or that damn witch again.

The Stag and the Warbler

Pairing: Jaskier/Dandelion x Witcher!Reader.

Summary: The bard has written a song about you. And it has given you a lot to think about.

Author's note: It's a late night thought I've had for a while. Jaskier has always been my favorite character in both the Witcher games, books and the tv show. I wanted to give him a bit of honor by writing this :) —also a little Skyrim reference cuz im not creative in song writing.

Warning: platonic love, fluff, kind of a bittersweet ending.

As Jaskier strummed the strings of his lute, he hummed the tune of a popular ballad. "Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart…" he sang but then paused mid-verse, his forehead creasing in concentration. "I tell you, I tell you, the Witcher comes- no, that does not sound so good," he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at him. You busied yourself with grooming your loyal steed, Melorax. The horse stood still, contentedly munching on bits of hay. While you brushed off dust and dirt from his coat, you could see the tiny frown written on Jaskier's face as he tried to come up with a better verse for his song.

Curious, you asked him, "Who is this hero exactly?"

Jaskier looked up, glad for the distraction. "Ah, well," he said, his fingers stilling on the lute. "It's just a tale, my friend. A story of a brave warrior who fights for justice and honor."

You nodded, understanding the stories that Jaskier shared with you during your travels as a Witcher. Tales like these were always inspiring and entertaining. Jaskier had been your companion for quite a while now, and you had grown fond of his musical talents and witty banter. He would often compare your kinder nature to his friend Geralt, who hailed from a different Witcher school whom you had heard of but never met. After grooming Melorax, you approached the front of the horse and kissed his soft muzzle. The horse whinnied softly, and you smiled at him, feeling content.

"You know I just hunt monsters for coin," you recall, sitting near him as you started the small bonfire.

"Well, yes. But, Y/n of Verden makes a good song subject. Don't you think?" Jaskier smiled widely at you as you put your hands near the fire for warmth. His fingers began strumming on his lute, calmly humming with the tune of his renowned instrument.

You began to listen closely. "With a silver sword gleaming and signs so fierce and cold…" Jaskier sang, "Believe, believe, the Stag of Verden has told."

"Stag?" You asked sheepishly, looking over at him with an expression of confusion.

"Umm… do you prefer to be called deer?" Jaskier asked sheepishly.

"Just confused with the Stag part…" you replied.

"Well, you remind me of a stag."

"How so?" You asked.

"Well, you're strong, very resilient, and almost similar to that of a protector of the realm," Jaskier beamed with poetic pride.

Upon hearing those words, a sense of pride and appreciation washed over you. It was rare for a Witcher to receive such positive recognition, as they are empty vessels of beings whose sole purpose was to slaughter monsters and collect payment. Being regarded as a hero was a new and unexpected experience for you. However, it was evident that most people still saw you as an exterminator who only existed to rid the world of dangerous pests rather than a true hero. All you let out was a slight chuckle.

Jaskier turned his head towards you, and his eyes met yours. He noticed the corners of your mouth curling up, and your eyes sparkled. Curious, he leaned slightly to his right and tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of what had caused this reaction in you. "What's so funny, Y/n?" he asked, his voice full of genuine interest and amusement.

"Oh, nothing," you jested. With a look of concern on the bard's face, he turned his gaze back towards his musical instrument, the loot. He asked in a questioning tone, "Is there something wrong with my song? Don't you like it?"

"I assure you that I like it," you said to the worried songwriter before returning to warm your hands by the fire. "Please continue."

Jaskier's face lit up with joy as he responded, "As you wish." He meticulously plucked the strings of his lute, producing a melody that seemed to flow effortlessly from his fingers. His body swayed with the rhythm, and it was clear from his performance that he was a true virtuoso of his craft.

"In the heart of the woodlands, where shadows dance and play Beware, beware, the Stag is on her way For monsters she'll conquer, with every foe she'll slay

You'll know, you'll know, the Stag brings light to the gray."

You were captivated as the bard plucked at the strings of his lute, his voice soft and sweet as honey. The music wrapped around you like a warm embrace, easing the tension in your body and calming your mind. The bard's songs were beautiful masterpieces of melody and meaning. What impressed you the most was how his music seemed to capture the essence of the world around you, bringing to life the sights and sounds of your travels in a way that words alone never could. Being a Witcher often meant living a life of solitude and danger. It made you feel isolated and alone. But having the bard by your side changed everything. His easy conversation and quick wit were a constant source of comfort and amusement, and you eagerly looked forward to every new adventure with him by your side.

By the end, you knew you could never repay the bard for all he had given you, but you were grateful nonetheless.

"You know one thing," you thought to him, "you remind me of a Warbler."

The bard chuckled at you with his sweet smile, "a warbler?"

"Yeah, those birds that sing a lot," you recalled.

As you reminisce about your childhood, your mind wanders back to when you were a young girl, growing up in a Witcher school. Life wasn't easy for you, especially since you were a frail child with a mother who struggled to provide for you. Days at school could be long and tiring, and you often find yourself exhausted by the end of them.

One particular memory that stands out to you is the sound of the Warblers that would perch on the window sill of your room. Their melodic songs would echo through the walls, piercing your ears and keeping you awake at night. You would try to drown out the noise by covering your ears with your pillow, but it was no use - the Warblers always seemed to find a way to sing their way into your thoughts. Despite the annoyance they caused, however, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity in their presence. After all, they had been a constant presence in your life for as long as you could remember.

"They were annoying when I was young," You scoffed playfully, "I hated listening to them sing whenever I wanted some peace. Now that I'm older, I wish they still sang to me," you look at the burning bonfire as the warmth engulfed the front of your body. “I like your songs, jaskier, even if you played the same tune for a week. I won’t get tired of you.”

"Huh…" Jaskier gave your statement some thought, "I've never had anyone think of me that way." He sat over next to the fire, feeling a bit cold.

"Why? May I ask," You cocked a brow at him.

"I'm a bit of an exasperation and––" Before Jaskier could continue, he stopped himself. He could ruin his godly reputation in front of you, and he did not want that.

"A skirt-chaser?" You continued.

"Oh- No, no, not that," you can sense the embarrassment that overcame his confidence.

"right, alright," A mischievous chuckle escaped your lips as you heard the mention of the notorious bard. His reputation preceded him, and you couldn't help but be amused. Word on the street was he had a knack for breaking up marriages or being the third person for sleeping with married men's wives. You won't deny it. Jaskier was handsome and quite the romantic.

The atmosphere was serene as if the world had a standstill. Not a sound except for the gentle rustling of leaves as the wind passed through the trees. "Can you sing me a song, Jaskier?" You asked, "Please?"

As Jaskier continued his endless string of tales, you couldn't help but politely express your reluctance to hear more. In response, Jaskier flashed a sweet smile and said, "Yes, you may, Y/n."

One day, Jaskier won't be around you. One day, you won't ever see him again, and it will be just you and Melorax on the lonely road. It could happen tomorrow, or it could be years from now. You tried not to dwell on that possibility, but it was always there lingering at the edges of your consciousness. But that did not matter now. It was a love that grew deep inside you that you have never felt. It's a companionship that was a strange yet familiar feeling. One day, he will see you as a monster like everyone else did when they saw you. Despite this, You listened intently to his stories and musings, even when they seemed nonsensical or meandering. You laughed at his jokes and marveled at his wit. You knew these moments were precious, and you never took them for granted because you will never know when that moment will end.

A/n: hey guys :) I apologize if my interpretation of Jaskier and the Witcher universe had errors. I was busy with school to read the books and watch the show for extra context and accuracy and did this all by itself. Overall, im unite happy with how this turned out.

one: redanian ale | geralt x reader

part 1 of the "threads of fate" series: masterlist.

pairing: geralt x reader

chapter warnings: blood, animal death, mild gore

word count: 3.9k

series summary: geralt begrudgingly accepts a monster contract issued to him by a strange girl, thinking it to be an opportunity for some quick coin. nothing goes as planned.

notes: i haven't posted a reader insert since middle school, but since ive been getting into the witcher again recently i thought this would be a fun project :) ill try my best to keep everything canon, especially pre-existing characters, but some things will be made up! additionally, the reader is written to be afab. keep that in mind since there will be smut in the future chapters...

Geralt stepped down the element-worn cobblestone road with a quiet huff, Roach trailing alongside the man’s figure with a seemingly matched sense of fervor.

The homes of the outskirts lined up in tight rows, alternating between maintained and otherwise decrepit wooden skeletons of a once lively hearth. Every stained-glass window emanated a warm light from within, casting onto the solemn sidewalk that led into the main square. Similar structures surrounded the tiled area, adorned with wooden plaques representing various businesses: a butcher, blacksmith, herbalist; something typical of towns on the continent.

It was a chilly afternoon, and the amber treeline of the backdrop was a colorful testament to the arrival of autumn’s harvest. The edge of the cracked pavement carried a lively array of wildflowers, growing sparsely out of the famously fertile earth of the region. It was strange, seeing such an abundant land give birth to such impoverished people. They swarmed the town in a hurry, cloaked in rags and somber faces, occasionally turning to gaze up at the flaxen-haired man with abhorrence, hatred, and curiosity.

Their sunken features flooded the street in the silent mayhem of impotence, weathered muscles bravely carrying the weight of their harvest into the beating heart of the city.

Coarse linen bags lined the trunks of carts for the lucky few being able to afford such transportation, others tried their strength at stacking the burden on their dominant shoulder. A permanent slouch was often a good way to identify the economically wounded. He furrowed his brow at the thought.

The cool air nipped gently at Geralt’s nose, fingers numb as they tightened around the leather horse reigns. His pace quickened, strides bold and purposeful as he spotted the centerpiece of town above the bobbing crowd ahead.

The cobblestone smoothed below his feet, transitioning into a sleek brick that led into the hexagonal center of town. People swarmed out of the tight street and quickly dispersed along various stalls lining the courtyard, allowing Geralt’s lungs to expand with fresh breath once more.

His eyes scanned along the walls, noting the uniform architecture of homes surrounding the plaza. Up ahead, sticking out like a not-so-sore thumb, stood the main attraction of the town. Its broad structure spanned significantly further than any surrounding shop, walls towering high into the third floor.

The off-white plaster was embellished with masterfully painted embroidery: a composition of roosters, red flowers, and various greenery; a traditional kind of adornment in these parts.

Unlike the other businesses, this particular building adorned a shiny, metallic plaque by the heavy-set doorway. It was written in a foreign language, carved into the slate in mechanically-even letters. Geralt approached this unfamiliar sign, fastening Roach to the wooden fencing to the side and leaving her with a soft pat on the muzzle. She neighed in response, a sound debatably considered sentient and acknowledging.

“Won’t be long, girl,” He reassured with a half-smile, adjusting his harness before stepping through the doorway.

The tavern air was drastically different from the outside world, hitting his complexion with a soothing warmth as the soft scent of baked goods and freshly poured ale filled his nostrils. The sensation scored a subtle smile from the witcher, hand swiftly unclasping the twinned holster of his weaponry.

He hummed lowly, scanning the crowd of people in sight: drinking, singing, dancing; warm bodies moving in rhythm to the upbeat ballad of a female bard taking center stage with her polished flute. A song about a lost love, druids, bloodshed. Geralt had recognized it from one of Jaskier’s performances, noting how polarizing the tune sounded with a change of instrument.

He continued walking alongside the wall, finally deciding to take a booth seat near the tinted windows of the northern wall. He propped his equipment against the table, positioning himself closest to the wall. The stained glass poured a soft light onto the scratched surface of his table, outlining every crevice and mug stain with a brilliant azure.

“Welcome to ‘the Manticore’, may I take your order?” Came a quiet voice, somehow bleeding into the chaos of the bustling tavern despite coming from his immediate right. Geralt turned his gaze towards it, eyes met with a pair of rheumy eyes.

A doe.

So was the witcher’s immediate thought at the sight of the skittish-looking servicewoman taking his order.

Her skin looked pallid, almost greyish in the soft light of the candlelight, cheeks pudgy yet somehow betraying her otherwise ghastly appearance. The subtle spread of freckles on her cheeks was the only memory of livelihood in the sunlight, spreading to her temples and ending in a single mole above the girl’s untamed brows. They were thick, straight, and resembling a man’s with how unkempt they appeared.

She held her fists firmly against the dip of her hips and her spine declined forward, giving the woman a folded, relaxed posture; a strange mix of confidence merging with a subtle sense of doubt reflected her apparent social abstinence.

“Redanian ale,” He spoke back, arm extending to rest on the plush couch, gaze wandering.

He first took note of the woman’s boots, how worn the leather seemed with the dried mud still clinging to the nooks and crannies of the laces. Her worn, moss-green blouse shamelessly revealed a perched bosom, held up artificially by the corset hugging her waist snuggly, perhaps uncomfortably.

Finally, he caught the attention of the silver amulet that lay comfortably against the flushed skin of her chest, embellished with a large, iridescent crystal sat in the middle. An opal, maybe a moonstone. It felt out of the ordinary, gleaming with a bright light that seemed to come from within the stone itself.

“You should be wary with that kind of necklace in your ownership,” Geralt warned under his breath, chin dipping to subtly signal towards the girl’s jewelry.

Her eyebrows furrowed at the comment, though her gaze instinctively followed his own. She brought a hand up to toy with the pendant, letting the metal move between her fingertips as if it were her first time seeing it.

“Oh, this old thing?” She questioned, a hint of apprehension lacing her voice as she held up the amulet, “It’s a fake, just a trinket I keep around,”

Despite her reassurance, the witcher’s comment seemed to have fuelled the baseline suspicion a barmaid would hold towards most customers. Simultaneously, she seemed genuinely inquisitive about the man’s opinion, her brow perched high on her forehead.

Her pinky traced along the side of the silver base, running down an array of intricate engravings carved into the metal by hand.

“Looks expensive. Different kinds of folk hang around these parts, you’d know best,” Geralt continued, tone flat yet assertive.

He never once meant to threaten the girl but rather tried offering a kind piece of advice based on his own experiences with such riches. Her prideful display of such an eye-catching jewel could land her in more trouble than she could have expected. His curiosity threw her demeanor off, eyes trailing to her feet. A moment passed without contact, then another.

“That’ll be it, girl,” he hummed, attempting to brush her presence off with a final word to the conversation. She shook her head left to right, almost like exiting a trance, and nodded at him hurriedly. Her nose tinged rouge. She turned heel, boots squeaking as she made her way through the boisterous crowd and back towards the bar.

The man allowed his gaze to linger on the girl until she disappeared into the sea of other bodies, huffing at the comfortable feeling of solitude once again. He let himself sink into the seat below. His eyes turned to study the crevices of the oak table he resided at, keen eyes suddenly focusing on something in the distance.

A raven-haired man sat hunched down at an adjacent booth, head clad in a pristine cloak that clasped off at his chest. The witcher stared back in an unspoken manner of competition, his watchful gaze scanning each visual intricacy the man had to offer. The pigment in his robes was intense and rich, an exotic indigo staining the thick linen, lined with silver thread that connected at the neck with a metallic amulet. It might have been adorned with small studs and jewels, from his position Geralt could not tell for certain.

His pale hands perched atop a leather-bound book surrounded by scattered cards, at least two decks. The fingers were scrawny, bony, wrapped in intricate rings that reflected the same blue light of the stained glass. His eyes bored into Geralt with a certain might, pools of sapphires flickering with candlelight.

They both lingered that way endlessly, both trying to intimidate the other into looking down, a gentle admit of defeat. The man smiled.

“And… there we go,” Came that one quiet voice again, accompanied by the dull tap of a glass mug placed firmly on the table. “Can I get you anything else?” it continued as Geralt made a last-ditch effort to squint at the cloaked man in the back of the room. He seemed satiated by this exchange, quickly returning to shuffling a fresh deck of cards sitting just beside his ale.

“…Hello?” The doe-eyed girl waved her hand to Geralt with a confused look on her sunken face, thick eyebrows furrowing with a twitch of her upper lip.

He turned his gaze towards her, quickly noticing the sudden emptiness around her chest— the amulet was gone. She must have taken his words to heart, or perhaps, more unfortunately, found them to be a kind of veiled threat towards her well-being. The skin of her chest was reddened, maybe hot to the touch.

“You’re a witcher, aren’t you?” She said matter-of-factly. Geralt raised an eyebrow at the sudden inquiry, otherwise maintaining his demeanor. It wasn’t so unusual.

“That’s right,” he replied tactfully, fingers tracing the handle of his mug before gripping it tightly and taking a hefty swig. The alcohol hit his throat with a delicious burn, trailing down the throat and leaving a tinge of plums and spice in its wake.

With a look as infamous as his, Geralt was undeniably used to being spotted out, even in the smallest of hamlets such as Posada. He didn’t mind the musings of others, as most of his encounters happened to be quite harmless and an inconvenience more than anything. He decided to enjoy his drink in peace and allow the girl to ask any questions she might be curious about. If he got lucky, the conversation could score him a new contract; Gods knew that was the kind of excuse he needed to occupy himself for the upcoming days.

“My, my…” The woman whispered, eyes widening a fraction as her fingers began skimming the edge of her apron in contemplation. There was an air of anticipation surrounding her, as if eager to ask about his dangerous lifestyle but abstaining for the fear of rejection. Same old.

“That makes you a frequent traveler, doesn’t it?” She piped up squeakily, clearing her throat after.

“Somewhat,” Geralt replied dryly, aiding his parched tongue with another swig of the drink. Exactly what he ordered, surprisingly. The girl didn’t bother cheating her way out of extra coin.

“And why do you find yourself in Posada, witcher?” the girl questioned, bright-eyed. Her hips twisted towards him, legs shuffling back and gently resting against the frame of the booth opposite to him. Geralt huffed, placing his ale firmly on the oak below. His face remained in its neutrality.

“Not staying long,” he mumbled with a backhand to his upper lip, cleaning the wetness from it with a smooth swipe. He spotted the barmaid’s coy gaze looking down as she swiftly positioned herself on the seat. When she looked up again, their eyes met.

There was a scar on her temple, kissing the hairline of the frizzed locks growing there. It looked well-healed with time, the weathered strip of skin standing out with the raised edges of its pale, pearlescent grove.

“Just for a rest I assume, then?” she smiled softly, the scar curving with the movement of her muscles. Geralt nodded. Her gaze seemed to falter at that but sharpened a mere second later.

“Just a drink, not much else to get done around here,” he spoke lowly, taking a knowing glance around the tavern; townsfolk swarming the bar in rugged clothing, some barefoot, all baring sunken faces. “Seems like it’s not monsters your town needs helping with,” he scoffed.

The barmaid’s eyes followed Geralt’s gaze, but she seemed to refrain from commenting. Her bony fingers clamped into loose fists before dropping to her lap. She moistened her lower lip with a slow flick of the tongue, shoulders rising and falling with each breath. She stayed silent for a moment, contemplative, then suddenly perked up with a furrowed brow.

“We’ve got monsters, witcher,” the girl mumbled. Geralt’s brow twitched at the comment, but he gave her a nod in recognition. She nodded back. “Something’s been killing off the townsfolk in the night when they go foraging,”

“Foraging? Why at night?” he questioned.

“For Mooncaps. They fluoresce in the dark and so are easier to spot that way; we use them for skin salves, tea, that kind of thing,” the girl explained, “They grow in the woods.”

“Mooncaps…” the man acknowledged, “And the foragers, how certain are you that they haven’t just lost their way back?” Geralt pressed on, fingers tensing around the handle of his mug.

“Rescue teams have been sent out before, but they never come back,” the girl said, “Sylvanus was the only one to make it home in one piece. After the fifth expedition, there were no more volunteers left. We didn’t want to risk any more casualties, you know? I grew up there, too. But I don’t dare go back now, not after I’ve heard the rumors,” she continued.

“Sylvanus?” Geralt interrupted, feeling the name out on his tongue. It sounded foreign to the land, but unfamiliar to him personally. The barmaid nodded.

“He’s this witch-hunter from Temeria. Well, that’s what he says, anyway,” she breathed out, eyes squinting, “He’s not from around here, you’d from the things he wears. Nice things, well-fit and expensive. Arrived one night and asked for the largest room we had, room seven. That must’ve been a whole month ago by now,”

Geralt’s eyebrows furrowed, gaze focusing on the table he had been examining beforehand. Nothing. The cloaked figure was gone, leaving behind a vacant table and that deck of cards.

“We’ve got spare rooms, plenty of them. I could arrange one for you if you’d like, maybe a hot bath to go with it,” the barmaid piqued in with the same smile, soft and genuine as her gaze seemed to bore into the witcher’s own eyes. She pursed her lips, anticipating an answer, perhaps one in favor of her declaration.

Geralt used a gloved finger to tap the wooden surface of the table, the rest of his body remaining perfectly still. “I’ll camp out,” he declared, hand raising his mug as the last drops of ale trickled down his throat. He still felt parched.

“As you wish,” the girl nodded, a glint in her eye as she reciprocated with a polite smile. Her arms stretched across the padding of her seat, relaxing her muscles before she swiftly stood up. Her hand grabbed onto the upper rim of the empty mug, removing it from the table with a huff.

“It’s on the house. Thank you for helping out,” she added quietly, smiling.

“Hold your appreciation, girl. I haven’t done anything to earn it just yet,” Geralt replied, earning a soft chuckle from the woman. It was airy and warm. Her half-lidded gaze met his own.

“You’ve offered your kindness, it’s all I could ask for these days,” she replied quaintly, taking a few steps back while her fingers tampered with the iron handle of the mug. She looked down briefly, then back up. Her smile had disappeared.

“Geralt,” he responded half-mindedly, out of habit. He assessed the name she had given him carefully, letting it echo in his mind.

“Farewell, then, Geralt,” she giggled once more, sounding somewhat bubbly at the reveal. Her smile stretched wider this time, revealing a pair of dimples adorning each flushed cheek with a shallow grove. She nibbled at her bottom lip, breathing in deeply before turning away, yet she held her gaze with his, somewhat determined to keep the witcher’s attention. She whipped around, her overskirt twirling gracefully around her hips before she leaped away. Geralt caught one last glance of her locks before she disappeared into the crowd again.

He breathed out, eyes closed tightly. His meeting with Ciri would have to wait another day while he took care of the monster plaguing this off-road town. He imagined it to be a Noonwraith, maybe a Werewolf in the worst case. It would be dirty work, but quick, and perhaps the town could spare a decent amount of coin for putting an end to their unfortunate endeavors.

The man stood up with a grunt, eyes scanning the crowds of clientele once again. His mind tried focusing on a certain head of raven-black hair amongst the sea of bodies, but his efforts were fruitless. The witch-hunter was gone, or at the very least in hiding… perhaps somewhere nearby. Geralt recalled the barmaid’s testimony, how she confessed they had rented the man a room just a few nights back.

The witcher’s eyes shifted to the broad staircase at the edge of the room, oddly empty and lit dimly by candlelight adorning the wall. He walked over in a few smooth strides, eyes narrowed and focused. He set his boot on the first stair, hearing it creak pathetically under his boot. He climbed another, another, continuing til the very top.

The gleeful tune of the lute sounded muffled and dull at this level, reverberating through the walls and getting eerily distorted in the process. Geralt lurked down the hallway, passing wooden doors adorned with handmade numbers and watching for light seeping through the gap where the planks met the floor.

He stopped suddenly, faced with number ‘7’. His gloved hand reached to grip the doorknob slowly, but with a firm squeeze, he twisted. To his surprise, it was open.

He stepped in, nose catching the vivid aroma of rosemary and myrrh. It carried in the air heavily, a thin stripe of smoke weaving through the air and connecting at the tip of an incense stick sat on a desk to his left. It was messy, clattered with books and one-off documents stained with slim rings of plum and violet.

“There you are,” came a gravely, monotonous sound. Geralt turned to face it, his eyes met with sapphire ones. They were bulbous, almost too large for the socket, threatening to pop out at any moment. The intensity made the witcher stay put. “Geralt of Rivia!” the man exclaimed theatrically, arms extending wide as he made his way from the bedside mirror. Geralt realized he hadn’t noticed the man when he entered.

“And you are?” the witcher asked firmly.

“You know my name,” the man replied, a smile adorning his lips. There was a thick scar running across them, connecting to his right brow.

“Sylvanus, is it?” Geralt replied, deciding to back into the doorway with his backside. Hearing the hinges squeal as they shut, Sylvanus seemed to relax. His mulberry cloak fluttered as he moved closer, head low. The whites of his eyes were glazed, shimmering like tiles of water. “There’s a monster roaming the woods, I’ve been told you know of it,”

“Certainly, yes,” He replied diplomatically, moving soundlessly to take a seat by the cluttered desk. The incense was shriveled now, copper tray piled with ash. “You’d like to know of this beastie? It was relentless. Ghastly and pale and crimson, drenched in innocent blood. Female in appearance and winged, like succubi,” Sylvanus explained, hands flailing wildly as he recalled the creature’s looks. His tone was low. “It is quite a miracle I made it out with all my limbs still intact,” Sylvanus sighed amongst dramatics.

“It seems we’re dealing with a harpy,” Geralt replied with a nod, hands now placed firmly on his hips as he watched the man before him go dark in the face. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes still bulging as he approached in a swift stride. He pointed a long finger at the witcher’s chest, gaze holding his fervently.

“That is no ordinary harpy, witcher,” the man hissed, offended at the mere suggestion of it. “I’ve seen nothing like it. This is no ordinary occurrence, I’ve come to realize…” Sylvanus carried on, retracting his arm that slivered under his cloak like a snake returning to its lair.

“This town, you’ll learn to know, is cursed. Plagued,” he finished slyly, almost hostile in his manner.

Geralt sighed at the man’s warnings, eyeing his lowly figure as it trailed back to the padded armchair by the desk. His snake-like arm slid out once more, thin and splotchy. It grabbed a match, striking it quickly against the table’s surface to illicit a pale flame that he used to light a fresh incense stick with. The room became smokey within seconds, a thin veil of grey dancing in the light breeze of the window open ajar. When he was done, Sylvanus tossed the match to a pile of similarly decrepit ones.

“If you want to know how I survived, well,” he trailed, “the beastie is weak to light. It fears daytime, sunlight, fire… anything that burns,”

“How did you find out?” Geralt questioned,

“Trial and error,” Sylvanus shrugged with a grin, eyes squinting. He slumped into the chair, tossing and turning until he seemed comfortable. “It only comes out on moonless nights, that’s when it goes out to feed,” he added. Geralt nodded, stopping for a beat to let the man continue on his tirade, but there was nothing else he wanted to say. His focus had now shifted to an opened book on the desk, his fingers skimming through the pages feverishly.

Geralt cleared his throat, eyeing the man once more before turning around to leave. “Thanks for the info,”

“Don’t make yourself allies in Posada, Geralt,” a voice called out behind him, deep and dark. “It might just turn on you,”

Geralt halted. He nodded, head tilting but not enough to catch the man’s figure again. The witcher shuffled away silently, shutting the door behind him with a ‘click’ of the hinges. A soft shuffling came from within, cloth rubbing against cloth and stacks of papers being ripped frantically, in a strange hurry. The flaxen-haired man let the commotion unfold without interruption.

He spotted an ornate window peeking outside, his eyes squinting at the bright lights of the colors flickering around the main square. It was getting late, and he would have to make camp soon. His feet stomped down the flight of stairs, faded music coming back in full effect.

He took note of the blonde-headed bard singing her heart out, and the slowly declining yet continuously vast crowd of townsfolk swarming the vivid scene. His gaze trailed to the bar instinctively, hovering over about a dozen heads that he knew instantly didn’t include the one he sought out.

A soft breath escaped his chapped lips, hands swiftly reaching for the cover of his cape’s hood. As the warmth of the tavern slowly faded from his body, Geralt felt his fingers ache in the cold of the night.

Hi!! Can I request an Eskel one shot where he fell in love with the reader (a Viper witcheress who is homeless since it disbanded) and he invites her back to Kaer Morhen for winter to introduce her to his brothers. She's also a great cook and the wolfs says she's a keeper. 😆

Vipers and Wolves

A/N: Ive never written a witcher!reader before, but it wasn't bad at all! I was hit with the comedic bug for this one, It's not super romantic all around but it is strong in found family!

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: 1.9k

Warnings: Language, very quick editing

___________________________________

It was in the heat of summer when you first met. 

You had been laying under a great big oak tree as the rain pattered down around you. The fire warmed your face as you set a heaping pile of damp fuel beside it, hoping it would dry in time to use it. Stray raindrops fell like tears from the leaves above you, making you shudder as one lucky one slid right down your back. 

“Ugh… stupid rain,” you complained to yourself as you set out your bedroll and started getting comfortable in your camp. 

The sun was beginning to set when you heard rustling far off in the distance, towards the middle of the forest. You were right outside of a small town so it was probably just a human, but people don't usually travel through the thick of the forest either. Your viper head medallion confirmed your suspicions as it lay motionless against your chest.

You stood cautiously and drew your steel sword as the sound of breaking twigs got closer and closer. A large dark silhouette moved within your vision as the sun was now halfway sunk on the horizon. As they got closer you could see it was actually a man on a large black horse, with… two swords on their back? Is it possible you really found another witcher?

You couldn’t believe your cat-like eyes. So many of you were lost after the sieges. So many of your brothers and sisters were killed defending your home from the onslaught of humans, and even then they couldn’t succeed. Your old home now was a wasteland of rocks and unlivable walls that held no more life. All the books and research your school did on the wild hunt… gone save for you and the few survivors. 

“ A fellow witcher.” You held your hand up in a friendly wave as you watched him dismount and come closer to the light of your campfire. 

Your breath escaped you as you saw the warmth of his Golden eyes lit by the fire, they were soft in a way that you didn’t often see from others, let alone witchers. Deep scars ravaged the right side of his cheek, tightly twisting his skin in jagged ways and notching his slightly chapped lips. 

“Ah, not every day you run across another witcher out in the field.” He smiled a bit as he nodded toward your swords. “Eskel, Wolf school.” He introduced himself and held out his hand. He seemed oddly trustworthy of you, but you suppose some people just have better judges of character. 

You dropped your sword back with your other belongings as you shook his hand in return. “Y/n, Viper school.” you smiled a bit as you spoke and motioned to your camp. “You’re, uh- I guess you’re welcome to make camp here too… means I have someone else to collect firewood for me.” you laughed a bit, gaining a small smile in return from the broad man.

He shook his head a bit as his brow furrowed, “isn’t there a town just a few minutes ride that way? Why don’t you get a room at the tavern there?” He asked, taking a seat across from you at the campfire as you sat down on your bedroll. 

“Can’t waste the money.” you said with a frown, “The viper school isn’t livable anymore so I have to hole up in a tavern all winter. I mean, I’ve found a nice place that’ll let me work to stay but, somehow money still seems to run far too thin by the end of the season so I need everything I can get.” 

Eskel watched as you stoked the fire carefully and added another log. He wasn't sure if it was the scar that ran across your nose that seemed to highlight your features, or perhaps it was the way you spoke that found him feeling exactly at home.  Maybe it was your subtle scent of lavender? No, no, it was your eyes for sure. Your eyes glowed in the firelight and danced with a fierce- yet gentle- determination, a dichotomy that Eskel rarely saw outside of his own eyes.

“Well… Do you mind having a guest at your campsite tonight? I’ll collect all the firewood you could ever need.”

---------

“Are you sure this is gonna be alright? I’m not sure…” You said as the tall standing walls of the Keep just crept into view over the hills. “They're not gonna be nearly as nice as you are, you're an exception…” You sighed.

“Oh, no. You’re right- they’re complete assholes, but I promise they’d never be like that to you. Not right away, anyways.” Eskel stifled a small laugh when you turned to scowl deeply at him. “I just mean to say… that as you become more like family they’re gonna treat you more like family. And that of course includes ruthless teasing from time to time.” He smiled and shrugged. 

Though you were fierce and skilled as a Witcher- and among the few women in your profession at that- you knew that you were intruding on another school, someone else's home with different customs and you felt like you needed to tread lightly lest you be asked to return to the oncoming winter season.

It took the rest of the day to finally reach the Keep’s arching gate and ride your horses through. You put them away in the stables, absolutely taking the opportunity to meet the famed Lil bleater along the way. 

A comfortable warmth washed over you as the doors to the great hall opened and a large fire crackled in the fireplace, warming the 3 men already inside. Eskel had told you more than enough about his brothers and his father figure. Geralt, the one with white hair and a scar down the eye who looks grumpy all the time, but can be cracked with a joke at Lambert's or Eskel's Expense. Lambert, smaller than the others and the stereotypical younger brothers, his heart lies in mischief and bomb-making. And finally, Vesemir, Who always- but especially after the sieges- stepped up as a sort of father figure to them and was always a little wary, but more than willing to give anyone a fair chance. 

“Eskel… Welcome back” Geralt greeted and held his mug up to his returning brother. 

“And friend..? Well, Hello..” Lambert said with raised eyebrows which quickly turned into a mischievous grin. Your fingers brushed Eskel’s hand before you could even think about it, inviting and asking for his hand to hold, to which he was quick to respond and intertwine his fingers with yours. You could tell it didn’t go unnoticed, but none of them said anything about it.

“And a Viper at that…Been a long time since I’ve seen any of you. I reckon there's even less of you than there is of us…” Vesemir observed out loud as he nodded and raised his hand in greeting. 

“You’d be right on that… Letho is the only other one of us I know to still be around.” You said with a hint of sadness in your voice, unlike that of what was expected of a witcher, even less than that of what a Viper should be. You were all made to be ruthless and cold, but for some reason, it just didn’t seem to stick with you for very long. 

“Well, welcome to the last of the wolves, I suppose. “ Geralt said with a nod to you, “we were all just arguing about whose turn it is to make dinner.” 

Eskel sighed and set his stuff on the table, “I’m not doing that after a full day of travel. I vote Lambert.” he proposed, getting met with Lambert’s loud and offended scoff. 

“What the FUCK, Eskel?” 

Geralt’s serious exterior cracked as a smile slipped onto his lips and he turned to Lambert with a smirk. “Well, Lambert. That’s two votes for you, one for me, and Vesemir couldn’t give a shit. Sooooo…” he said with a short laugh. 

“You guys are absolute dogshit,” Lambert complained, throwing his hands in the air in an exaggerated gesture. 

Now it was your turn to pipe up, “I don’t mind cooking…”, you said, looking between the small group of men. 

“Y/n, you don’t have to do that. We’ve just spent days on horseback, you should rest..” Eskel tried to argue, but you quickly waved him off. 

“Nonsense. Part of my job at the tavern over winter was to cook for guests. I actually find it rather relaxing.” you said with a smile and a firm squeeze to his hand before you handed your pack over, “Which way to the kitchen?” 

“I’ll show you!” Lambert shot up faster than he probably ever had for a task, and quickly waved you on towards the Keep’s kitchen. Once out of earshot of his brothers and father he quietly thanked you for taking over the dreaded task and showed you everything you could need. 

It wasn’t too long before you were cooking up a storm and coming out of the kitchen with a sizzling pan and a steaming pot. Vesemir was kind enough to grab plates for everyone as the boys all began to crowd around. 

“Hmm, smells better than Geralt's cooking…” Lambert commented as he wafted the steam toward his face.

“Fuck that, it smells better than Vesemir’s cooking..” Eskel dared to say in front of the old man. But it was true, you put all you had into this dish. You figured that- like with many people- a wolf’s heart lies within its stomach. Of course having a full shelf of spices available to you helped a lot, some even that you hadn’t seen in circulation for many years.

Without another word, they all quickly served themselves up and began eating. It was so quiet that you could have heard a pin drop all the up the stairs into the tower if you tried hard enough. Your nerves started twisting at your stomach as you got your own plate and still no one had said a word. Was it good? Was it bad? No, Lambert probably would have said so. 

“This…” Vesemir spoke, the first word since everyone had been served, “This is the first time they’ve been completely quiet at dinner in over 50 years…”, he said with a warm smile, more than you ever thought capable of the older man. “Your great food has given me the one thing I never thought I’d have again. Silent company..” He laughed a bit, now turning to Eskel. 

“She’s a keeper, you know that, right? If you show up next winter without her you’re gonna sleep in the stables.” Vesemir finished as he turned back to his plate. Lambert and Geralt mumbled agreements through full mouths and content hums as Eskel turned the slightest shade of pink. 

“Yes, I understand. I don’t need your threats to keep her around though,” Eskel said with a small smile as he reached for your hand above the table, in full view of everyone else. 

A smile spread across your face that you tried to hide as you took a bite of food, “Oh yeah, Eskel’s never gonna be rid of me at this rate…” 

_____________________

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The Witcher Seasons 1 and 2 summarized: VERY abridged (I cut out a lot to make it easy to follow) Okay, to summarize the first two seasons…

For season 1 I'm going to go as linear as possible. I think it was foolish for the show to try to imitate West World by having the three stories from three different time periods be told all at once and without any indication that they are different time periods until later.

It's especially confusing when at least two of the main characters don't age and they "forgot" to age Jaskier.

Anyway...

_______________________________ Season 1 of The Witcher:

A little girl with bone and spine deformities is revealed to have magical potential and is sold off to a magick school. At the school (where many students are sacrificed and few become actual sorceresses) she becomes a powerful sorceress. It turns out this girl is part elf, which is why she has unusual, purple eyes. Magick enables her to become beautiful and mostly immortal (She doesn't age) but at the price of her womb (which she'll regret later). This is the sorceress Yennefer.

Several decades later Geralt of Rivia (The Witcher) is befriended by the bard Jaskier. Geralt is a monster hunter known as a Witcher. Witchers are trained since childhood and mutated using magical and alchemical means to make them more efficient monster hunters. This makes Geralt mostly immortal, gives him white hair since childhood, golden wolf (or cat-like) eyes and he is sterile. He cannot father children. His nickname is "The White Wolf." Geralt also wears a silver pendant of a wolf's head that vibrates in the presence of monsters. A monster cannot touch this medallion and it identifies Geralt as a Witcher. Geralt deals with a lot of fear and misinformation about Witchers because they aren't viewed as being entirely human. It is even believed that Witchers have no human emotions but those close to Geralt know better.

Jaskier, the flamboyant bard, writes songs about Geralt to try to reduce the fear people have of him and to help him find work as a monster hunter. Over time Jaskier learns from Geralt and starts to sympathize with outcasts and outsiders thanks to Geralt's guidance.

One day, on one of his adventures, Geralt accidentally invokes "Law of Surprise" in front of a pregnant royal. Law of Surprise is a sort of magical spell that invokes Destiny, itself, to intercede and give you what the person in front of you does not yet know they have or doesn't realize they have. Often it's something petty like a sack of flour, or as big as a new horse. And you cannot refuse the thing and the person cannot refuse to give it or Destiny will intervene to make sure it happens.

When Geralt realizes he accidentally invoked Law Of Surprise in front of a pregnant woman, he flees. He does not want to take someone's child from them.

This fear of Destiny causes Geralt to develop serious insomnia and he tries to find a djinn (a genie) to invoke the Genie to make it help him sleep. It seems a bit extreme, I know. But he was a tired and cranky Witcher.

The djinn that is found almost kills Jaskier and leaves him badly injured but Geralt is able to get him help from the sorceress Yennefer. Geralt starts to become infatuated with Yennefer.

On yet another adventure where they encounter a wise old dragon, Geralt abandons Jaskier on the side of a mountain, likely because he thinks his life is too dangerous for him and he doesn't want to see Jaskier hurt anymore.

Twelve years later that child that Geralt had accidentally invoked Law of Surprise over has grown into the princess Ciri and her Kingdom is sieged. Everyone is killed except Ciri, who is told to find Geralt.

Geralt finds out what happened to Ciri's kingdom and accepts his destiny to become Ciri's adoptive father. _________________________

Season 2:

It gets revealed that Ciri is actually descended from the very first Witcher even though Witchers are usually sterile (Witcher: Blood Origin prequel series) and she also has elfish blood inside her. This makes her potentially very powerful and she is also useful politically as she is still a princess and the sole survivor of her mother's bloodline.

There are people in power who want to exploit Ciri.

Geralt takes Ciri with him to The Witcher stronghold where the few remaining Witchers gather every winter to rest and relax in the off-season. Here Ciri starts to show an inclination to possibly become a Witcher, herself.

Meanwhile Yennefer has lost her powers (temporarily) and has made several enemies in positions of power so she is guided by some allies to The Sandpiper (a rogue who helps outcasts find safety). To her surprise The Sandpiper is actually Jaskier, who has become bitter about Geralt abandoning him. He even wrote a song about it called Burn Butcher Burn.

Jaskier stupidly confronts a dock worker who is critical of one of his songs ("The Golden One" which never played in its entirety in the show but can be found for free on Youtube.) This ultimately leads to Jaskier being imprisoned.

While imprisoned Jaskier is rescued by Geralt who tells him he needs his help.

Yennefer gets tempted by some ancient Baba Yaga knock-off to sacrifice Ciri in order to get her powers back.

Ciri temporarily gets possessed by this ancient evil. Eventually she's saved and Geralt, Yennefer, and Jaskier reunite properly with their new adopted child, Ciri.

While that is going on, the political world of The Containment (The Europe-like landmass this story is set on) is starting to unravel. War and genocide are brewing, particularly with powerful humans and the elves (Sidhe).

A time traveling elf from a few thousand years ago (Witcher Blood Origin) is stalking Ciri because of her heritage.

And that's about it.

I posted 987 times in 2022

That's 2 more posts than 2021!

466 posts created (47%)

521 posts reblogged (53%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@artistsfuneral

@spielzeugkaiser

@selectivegeekwithstandards

@hailhailsatan

@bellathecatastrophe

I tagged 858 of my posts in 2022

Only 13% of my posts had no tags

#reblog - 264 posts

#the witcher - 235 posts

#rambles - 221 posts

#artistsfuneral about the witcher - 185 posts

#witcher - 113 posts

#geraskier - 109 posts

#artistsfuneral draws - 101 posts

#self reblog - 86 posts

#jaskier - 85 posts

#geralt - 85 posts

Longest Tag: 139 characters

#im about to finish my uni stuff and then i will start working on a super long (haha) new fic that i'm very excited about and that hopefully

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

It's Ciri's sixteenth birthday when she asks her Dad for a polaroid camera. Geralt raises an eyebrow at her, the sentence "I'm not a stupid hipster, Daaaad!" engraved in his mind. But it's her birthday, so he can't really say no, can he?

"If you really want one," he says, "then go up to the attic and look through your Mom's highschool boxes. You can have hers."

Ciri's eyes widen in wonder. She doesn't remember much about her parents, most of it comes from stories other people told her. Often being told how much she resembles her mother, Ciri has started to mimic Pavetta - hoping to connect with her in some way.

So,

Ciri spends her morning in the attic. Sitting on the floor and carefully going through some of the boxes that are labeled "Pavetta - senior year". There's a lot of memories hidden in cardboard treasure chests and she takes her time to enjoy a bit of her Mom's life.

She finds the camera. It's a charming old thing, safely put away in a brightly colored shoulder bag that is adorned with stickers and pins and doodles. It's well loved.

She plays around with it for a bit and to her joy it still works. Then she notices the side pocket on the bag where a little stack of photos must've gone unnoticed. Ciri carefully pulls the pictures out and her heart flutters with excitement as she sees her Mom wildly grinning at her, Ciri's father Duny, standing in the background, talking to somebody.

Flipping through the photos she gets a great inside of what her Mom's highschool time must've been like. The best thing about the find, though, are the pictures Pavetta took of Geralt. She knows Pavetta, Geralt and two other friends were a band in highschool, but getting to see it is a whole new experience. To her surprise, her Dad looks kind of cool behind a set of drums.

And then she sees it. Her eyes grow huge and in disbelief she pulls the photo closer to her head. It's a band picture. Her Mom, her father, her Dad, another girl and an awfully familiar face grin back at her.

Ciri does what every teenager would have done. She pulls out her phone and takes a picture of the polaroid, posts it online with the caption

"so apparently my Mom was in a band with leadsinger (at)JaskiertheBard"

Her post goes viral over night. A few days later her favorite singer and songwriter has sent her a chat request.

Ciri accepts.

part 1?

(read full fic here)

1,212 notes - Posted May 16, 2022

#4

What if "I'm from Lettenhove" is a sort of codeword in the royal class for children that have fallen out of grace with their court/family? And the higher your rank in Lettenhove, the worse the thing you have done is?

1,352 notes - Posted April 21, 2022

#3

Jaskier walking through a market place past a pen where a bunch of horses for sale are kept. A horse neighs. Jaskier stops, turns around with a grimace on his face and looks at a chestnut mare. "Roach?" Roach nods. "He's lying in a ditch somewhere, right?" Another nod. Melitele above that horse has always been too smart for his own comfort. "I will have to steal you back now, I guess?" Roach neigs rather dramatically and Jaskier sighs. So much for a calm evening. A few paces behind the guy who sells the (stolen) horses backs away, suddenly having decided that that particular mare is not worth the trouble.

2,058 notes - Posted April 18, 2022

#2

So Jaskier, completely shitfaced, is sitting somewhere on the dirty floor near a tavern in Oxenfurt, when he meets Vesemir for the first time.

He instantly recognizes the old witcher and loudly calls him over, something along the lines of "Hey! Hey you- you, wolf! Papa wolf! Yeah, come on, I need to have a word with you about your son. The- the stupid one-"

Vesemir is obviously not amused, but he comes over nonetheless because for some reason that drunk kid knows him.

Then, Jaskier proceeds to ramble on about Geralt and it gets very close to trash talk, but Vesemir keeps his cool and reads in between the lines. What he finds out is this: Geralt - who up to this point had been his favorite - had somehow managed to break this poor kid's heart, not once, not twice but "at least five times". Said kid had apparently "spent more than half of his life" following his son like a lost puppy. He mumbles something about elves and djinns and then tells this elaborate tale of a golden dragon. "And then he left me on a fucking mountain!" Vesemir for his part would have not believed any of this, if the name Yennefer hadn't fallen. Many of the unreasonable things Geralt does are related to Yennefer.

The old witcher then takes a closer look at the sod on the floor and oh yes, didn't Geralt say something about a bard?

Then suddenly the kid stops mid sentence as if remembering something important. He waves at one of the other young men and loudly asks "Oi Mikael, is there- is there class tomorrow!?" Vesemir doesn't show it but he's kind of shocked. The drunk kid is clearly a student at the Academy, way too young to be traveling with a witcher. What ln earth is Geralt thinking?!

When the other man, for some reason looking as shocked as Vesemir feels, answers the kid's question with "yes", the bardling seems to sober up by a lot. He staggers up, wishes Vesemir a good night and starts to stumble towards Oxenfurt Academy, quickly followed by the other student.

The last thing Vesemir hears before they walk out of side is how the student asks the bard "Does that mean we won't have to write that test tomorrow, professor?"

Professor. Vesemir needs a break.

2,813 notes - Posted February 13, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

"Kaer Morhen Stables, this is Geralt Rivia on the phone, how can I help?"

"Hi, yes um- This is Jaskier, from the uh- cottage down the road?"

"The one with the flowers? Is there a problem?"

"Yes um- You see, this may sound a bit crazy but uh- there's a horse in my garden. My fenced off garden. And while that's not exactly a problem, the last time I checked I didn't own a horse so-"

"Fuck!"

4,589 notes - Posted January 15, 2022

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@witcherwheeloftheyear

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Word count: 660

Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, The Hansa | Geralt's Company Members (The Witcher)

Additional Tags: Snowdrops, Well, Imbolc, A Witcher Wheel of the Year Challenge

Summary: On their journey from Toussaint to Stygga, Geralt's Hansa comes across a beautiful glade. But is it safe to make camp here for the night?

"Look, isn't this a beautiful place!"

Geralt grunts. Angoulême is not wrong, the little glade looks beautiful indeed. The tall trees around it are powdered with a thin layer of snow crystals that sparkle in the last rays of golden afternoon sunshine, the grass and dry filigree stalks of last year's wild flowers are also coated in sparkling white that crackles under their horses' hooves, and, around the ancient looking well, there are large patches of snowdrops stretching their white heads toward the light. It looks peaceful, serene, like a nice place to make camp for the night. However, if something looks too beautiful, there often is some hidden danger lurking in the shadows of the trees. Or burrowed in the ground. Even the well might harbour some kind of monster or evil spirit. Perhaps the water is poisonous? Or enchanted by an evil wizard or witch? Maybe he has become a bit paranoid, but in his line of work you can never be too careful. Better safe than sorry.

"Wait!" Geralt holds up his gloved hand to stop the other members of his company from leaving the narrow path and venturing further into the glade and straight into the potential trap. Suspiciously, his yellow eyes narrowed almost to slits, the Witcher gazes around ...

Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/44626222

I posted 5,480 times in 2022

That's 2,986 more posts than 2021!

35 posts created (1%)

5,445 posts reblogged (99%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@smolalienbee

@orderlyhouse

@classicwhostuff

@wellntruly

@horse-girl-dean

I tagged 5,479 of my posts in 2022

#the witcher - 930 posts

#fanart - 615 posts

#art - 610 posts

#doctor who - 575 posts

#our flag means death - 494 posts

#classic who - 424 posts

#photography - 303 posts

#black sails - 281 posts

#witcher fanart - 258 posts

#dracula - 188 posts

Longest Tag: 140 characters

#maybe i just have my rodney loving goggles on but good lord it is eminently clear to me how much rodney feels responsible for collins' death

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

hiiiiiiiiii it's me again, another prompt, here it goes “We’re in the middle of a thunderstorm and you wanna stop and feel the rain?” + either geraskier (cause i'm a simple bee) or your choice

hiiiiii again bee i'm a simple salt so have exactly 100 words of geraskier (implied, anyway) in a thunderstorm!! (send me a character/pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a drabble!)

Jaskier hates getting wet. It makes his clothes stick to his body, which makes him want to crawl out of his skin. Unfortunately for him, it's started raining, and Geralt has stopped walking. 

"Geralt," Jaskier begins, "we're in the middle of a thunderstorm, and you want to stop and feel the rain?"

Geralt doesn't turn around. "Lighting's not going to hit us."

"That's not—"

Now Geralt does turn around. "You don't like the rain," he says, softly, like it's a revelation. "Okay. Let's find shelter."

If it wasn't for the rain, Jaskier would be rooted to the ground with shock.

20 notes - Posted April 25, 2022

#4

hi. hello. how about 45. “Tell me a secret.” for some soft geraskier in these trying times?

hello. it's not mentioned, but the grass they're lying on is very soft, so I hope that suffices! (send me a character/pairing and a prompt and I’ll write you a drabble!)

“Tell me a secret,” Jaskier says. It’s a pleasant summer evening, and they’re lying next to each other in the grass, looking up at the stars.

“Why?” Geralt asks.

“I’ll go first,” Jaskier continues, undeterred. “I love you."

Geralt snorts. "That's not a secret."

"It is!" Jaskier insists. "There's a lot of people that don't know that about me."

"Not for lack of trying."

"Tell me a secret?" Jaskier says, again.

Geralt relents. "Okay. I love you too."

And Jaskier beams. It's no secret that Geralt loves him, but if it makes Jaskier smile like that, he will gladly pretend.

26 notes - Posted April 28, 2022

#3

See the full post

34 notes - Posted April 20, 2022

#2

Knight’s Spurs

G / wc: 857 / summary: When Geralt arrives back from a hunt, he gets a rather unexpected welcome.

also on AO3 here!

It's not often that Geralt comes back from a hunt being welcomed by the town that hired him, though it's been happening more often lately. He doesn’t quite understand it, but who is he to deny what the world sees fit to throw his way? Sooner or later, it will change, but he is in no hurry to see that happen.

(He’s not entirely stupid, he knows Jaskier has had something to do with it—what he doesn’t get is how Jaskier ever managed to do it, or why he even bothered to in the first place. Or why he’s still doing it.)

Perhaps the most baffling part of his welcome is, after he’s received the reward—which they gave to him, just like that—a child comes up to him (to him!) and offers him a tall purple flower. He freezes, unsure of what to do, acutely aware that the townspeople are all watching him. He wonders if the child knows no one’s ever offered him a flower before.

“Thank you,” he says softly, as he takes the flower in his hand. The child grins, then runs off, presumably to join their parents.

Then the moment’s gone, the people continue to go about their day, and it’s like nothing ever happened. Except for the fact he is still holding that flower.

“Geralt!” he hears a voice from behind him. It’s Jaskier, bouncing up to him, as if excited to see him. “You’re back! How did it go?”

“Fine,” Geralt replies.

Jaskier pouts. “How am I meant to write a ballad on just the word ‘fine’? Honestly, Geralt, do you not know how songwriting works?” Geralt raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t specify.” Jaskier huffs. “I’m not letting you off that easily, trust me, tonight I'll—why are you holding a flower?”

“A child gave it to me,” Geralt replies simply. “I accepted it.”

Jaskier blinks. “Why?” “You’d have to ask the child. I didn’t. Would have been rude”

“Right, yeah, that’s—never mind.” Jaskier runs a hand through his hair. “I expect you’re tired and dirty—” he pauses, quickly glancing at Geralt, “—yep, definitely dirty, so I’ve taken the liberty of asking for a bathtub and some hot water. Let’s get you bathed, and since it’s this late, it’s probably best if we stay the night, I’ve asked, they don’t mind, I just had to give a concert, quite enjoyable, really—”

Now that he’s mentioned it, Geralt would like a bath, actually. Jaskier prattles on all the way to their room, and Geralt lets him. So long as Jaskier doesn’t need him to pay attention to all of it, he can talk as much as he likes.

“...and so I thought... Geralt? Are you planning to hold that flower in the bath, too?” Jaskier’s voice cuts through his reverie, and belatedly, Geralt realises he probably expects a response to that question.

“...no,” he grunts, and lays the flower on the table next to the tub.

The rest of the evening proceeds as normal. Bathing takes a little less longer, because he didn’t get as dirty, but that’s not entirely out of the ordinary. A little more out of the ordinary is the flower, and if he carefully puts it next to his bedside, no one needs to know.

(Jaskier might know, but he doesn’t comment on it. Geralt appreciates that.)

The next morning proceeds as normal, too. Geralt wakes up feeling refreshed, but that’s not entirely out of the ordinary. A little more out of the ordinary is the flower, still where he’d put it last night, and if he carefully picks it up to take it with him, no one needs to know.

(Jaskier might know, but he doesn’t judge him for it. Geralt appreciates that.)

“I see you’ve still got the flower,” Jaskier says, smiling softly, and well, that answers that.

“I have,” Geralt confirms.

“I hadn’t thought you were one for flowers,” Jaskier continues, idly playing with his hair. “You continue to surprise me every day.”

Geralt shrugs. “I couldn’t very well refuse it, even if I loathed flowers.”

Jaskier knits his brows. “Couldn’t you?” he says, so quietly Geralt isn’t sure he meant to say it at all.

“Why would I have?” Geralt replies. “It’s not like the flower was going to hurt me. And besides, people probably would have gotten angry if I’d made the child cry.”

Jaskier smiles at that, but this time, it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. Geralt doesn’t know what to make of it. When Jaskier stays quiet, he doesn’t know what to make of that, either.

No need to dwell on things he doesn’t understand. He tucks the flower behind his ear, so that his hands are free. “Are you ready?” he asks Jaskier, who nods—still not saying anything—and stands up. “Let’s go, then.”

After they’re out of town, Jaskier starts rambling on about something or other—Geralt isn’t quite paying attention, but he knows Jaskier doesn’t mind that—just as normal, and Geralt almost forgets he’d been silent for as long as he was. Almost.

See the full post

45 notes - Posted May 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

See the full post

85 notes - Posted April 9, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

margot robbie . cis-female . she/her . wasn’t that ilyana ghita walking the palace grounds ? it’s nice to see the lady of wenchika/healer out and about on such a fine day as this. i’ve heard from the court spies that they’re notoriously secretive, whilst also managing to be quite perceptive. the twenty-nine year old is eager to find out who exactly is behind the killings from what’s being said at court. i heard that they themselves are vrajiit ( abjuration + chronokinesis ). it’s funny, whenever i think of them, i think of midnight strikes and a raven soars, an enigma in a hooded cloak, life is a chess board but we are no pawn. great to see the high-priestess around, isn’t it ?

CHARACTER STATS:

FULL NAME: Lady Ilyana Katrijn Ghita.

AGE: Twenty-nine.

BIRTHDAY: 01 January 121 a.d.

GENDER & PRONOUNS: Cis-female (she/her).

SEXUAL ORIENTATION: Bisexual.

VRAJIT: Yes, Abjuration and Chronokinesis.

RELIGION: Curious about the Old Gods.

KINGDOM: Wenchinka, Walochnia.

THREE POSITIVE TRAITS: Perceptive, Ambitious, Clever

THREE NEGATIVE TRAITS: Secretive, Selfish, Calculating

CHARACTER INSPIRATIONS: Leliana (Dragon Age: Inquisition), Cirilla of Cintra (The Witcher), Tissaia de Vries (The Witcher), Prudence Night (Sabrina), Jean Grey (X-Men), Yennefer of Vengerberg (The Witcher), Elizabeth Bennet (Pride and Prejudice), Elizabeth Swann (Pirates of the Caribbean), Addison Montgomery (Greys Anatomy).

MBTI: ENTJ

EIGHT TV TROPES: Defrosting Ice Queen, Disproportionate Retribution, Terror Hero, Mystical White Hair, Byronic Hero, The Baroness, Badass Cape, Guile Heroine

PHYSICAL INFORMATION

HEIGHT: 5′5″

EYE COLOUR: Blue

HAIR COLOUR + STYLE: White-blonde, typically in a braid or thrown back over her shoulder, long-ish.

CLOTHING STYLE: Typical style features a cloak (she has several in different colours) over a gown. Though she typically wears the house colours, she has been known to wear both white and black.

EXTRAS

tw death, loss, sickness.

- abjuration was discovered by her birth mother before ilyana would ever know. the family were weather-worn and poverty stricken, a number amongst many of wenchinka's hungry. their waning bodies a glint in a vulture's eye. no ointment could curb the edge, nor could it heal the lesions which bore holes into the flesh. but still, they held their daughter, weeping on their knees at the rot which had formed within this kingdom. as they pleaded with the gods of old, their babe curled within their hold, the wounds began to heal and a steady glow illuminated from the blue eyes of ilyana. out of fear for what could happen, ilyana's mother fled to the castle and begged for their protection. they took her child in exchange from a coin-filled purse, granting the child nobility and her birth mother peace of mind.

- abjuration (the ability to make physical or magical barriers, banishment, regeneration, healing, augmentation) is also the only power she is privy to as of yet. whilst ilyana also possesses chronokinesis (the ability to manipulate time, including time travel at more advanced levels), this remains undiscovered and has the potential to be unearthed during something monumental (future plot perhaps???).

- as a child, ilyana befriended the son of a family beyond the confines of the castle - a boy of no noble birth but a heart far greater. though he was believed to be vrajit, he was often found wielding a sword within the far corner of the marketplace; sinking the blade into a makeshift dummy. she shadowed him always, sneaking out at the first sight of dawn to play and fight in unison. he taught her the importance of wielding swords and shooting arrows - how to survive well beyond the power she harboured. as they grew, their roles switched and he shadowed her in return; watching in awe as she threw an ale back quicker, shot an arrow swifter and rode a horse faster just to best him. when the battlefield called, they remained inseparable and only ever parted ways when sent to differing posts. but this decision, to send the two to opposing lines, was ultimately costly. she believes she felt it before she knew; the final blow which sent her friend to his knees, a sword striking straight through his sternum. by the time she had reached him, he had long since passed, curled atop soil in a state far more childlike than the man he had since grown into. in return, ilyana had now discovered the harsh truth of her ability: it could not wake the dead.

- a well-known trait of ilyana's is the selfishness she possesses, though it is not as textbook as it may originally seem. she cares deeply for the people of wenchinka, a circumstance which could one day be her downfall, and she will insist on doing whatever she can to better the lives of those within the nation. whether it be ensuring her acts of service to walochnia are not so freely gifted, opting to gather useful intel or manipulating the tactical decisions made by those from neighbouring nations, ilyana will prioritise wenchinka above all else.

- when dusk falls and the night sets in, ilyana is typically found on horseback, adorned in her cloak, pursuing towards nearby infirmaries. she is frequently considered a raven of sorts, as she tends to be ushered towards those who are near their end - her power some holy miracle that forces death to be patient. though this is an act which remains unspoken amongst her family, there are few who have knowledge of lady ghita's choice - whether it be a patient or those she works alongside. for her safety and the safety of those within walochnia, they ensure it remains a secret.

Jordan Peele's *NOPE* Is Cosmic Horror For This Century

I really, really enjoyed Jordan Peele's Nope, and more on the second viewing than the first. It is a very well crafted film that defies expectations - and yes, you should walk into the film as absolutely free of them as you can manage. The R rating is largely for cursing (which happens throughout) and drug use and vaping. Nope is also a horror movie where the horror is not from jump scares or gore (when violence happens, it's almost entirely off-screen (though often just off screen), but through the implications of the story itself. Mild to OMG MAJOR spoilers for Nope, From Dusk Till Dawn, Stranger Things, and maybe some other properties ahead.

Let me start reviewing Nope by saying that I do not care for the Tarantino/Rodriguez team-up From Dusk Till Dawn, but I absolutely adore Nope. From Dusk Till Dawn is, in my opinion, two movies stitched together. The first half is a classic Tarantino talky crime banterfest, which suddenly transforms into a completely different movie with no warning. The tone, plot, and everything else shift with the harshness of a scratching record. To me, that feels like a gimmick, as if Megan Thee Stallion suddenly started performing Metallica's "Master of Puppets."

RIP Eddie. At first glance, Nope also shifts tone. More than once. But unlike the other film, the tonal shift is not precipitated by sudden changes in the plot of the film, but rather our expectations. As new information is revealed to the protagonists - and us - their attitude changes, which changes everything else. The tonal changes felt organic and like outgrowths of the character's personalities. They are not record scratches, but redirects and misdirects, a technique that Peele honed during his comedic time with Keegan-Michael Key, the horror equivalent of comedic songs that make you think they're going to curse: "I knew a guy who was down on his luck / he might have been poor, but he liked to FISH". Likewise, time jumps tend to annoy me - see the first season of The Witcher for an example of how to do it badly. There, the time jumps are unsignaled, but in Nope there's clear demarcations demonstrating when the focus shifts back and forth from the past. Yes, I also finished the first viewing with more questions than answers. And after a second viewing, there are some questions that remain - but those are questions that I do not think should be answered. But everything else that matters - specifically why the events of the movie unfold the way they do - are answered in full. Sometimes with a line of dialogue, sometimes by thinking things through. While others have dissected the "themes" and "meaning" of the film, I want to focus on the plot of the story here, and to do that, we have to reassemble the film's events (at least regarding the critter) into chronological order. - Gordy brings Ricky "Jupe" Park's TV career to a traumatic halt with his on-set assault. - The "Gold Rush" attraction next door to Haywood Ranch goes bankrupt, and is bought by Jupe, and renamed "Jupiter's Claim". - Three years pass. - "Jean Jacket" shows up and consumes one of Jupe's horses in front of him; he believes the entity to be a UFO. This is also the same time that Otis senior is killed. It's possible - even probable - that Jean Jacket was being a "transient" at this point, having picked off the hikers earlier (and their detritus killing Otis Senior) before Jupe sees him. - During the next off-screen six months, Jupe keeps buying horses one at a time from the Haywoods, despite there not being not that many horses visible at "Jupiter's Claim". Jupe knows the horses he bought are gone - he is glad of the distraction from OJ's wanting to buy the horses back from him eventually. Jupe also wants to buy the ranch - "Su casa is mi casa" he says when Em starts looking around his office - presumably to keep the Haywoods from stumbling over Jean Jacket. - Jupe has been practicing Pavlovian training to draw out Jean Jacket. This free food source We see this at the beginning when Ghost escapes and runs down the valley toward Jupiter's Claim. The lights are all on at Jupiter's Claim, and we hear Jupe himself practicing the speech he later gives. To answer one of Screen Rant's questions - I don't think you can directly see Jupiter's Claim from the Haywood ranch - we only see it when OJ goes further out into the ranch to chase Ghost, despite what Screen Rant claims. Additionally, OJ is pretty obviously an "early to bed early to rise" kind of guy most of the time and has been focused on chores and the ranch, not whatever Jupe is doing. - Ghost is consumed by Jean Jacket, who is then drawn to the Haywood ranch by the light and sound that Em - who is usually not there partying - is creating. At that point, Jean Jacket's "range" or "territory" grows to include not just Jupiter's Claim, but the Haywood ranch as well. At that point, the rest of the events of the movie are pretty much portrayed in chronological order. Yet there's people and sites - such as this Screen Rant article "Nope: 10 Things That Didn't Make Sense About The Movie" - that claim there are mistakes and plot holes, but they're missing things. So let's get into those. First, yes, a coin could kill Otis Senior - because unlike the Mythbusters experiment cited, the coin does not go through the thick top of the skull, but the MUCH thinner bone behind the ocular cavity. Remember, there's an actual hole there for the optical nerve to pass through. So why is there so much screen time devoted to Gordy? Double duty. It explains both Jupe's actions and gives a character arc - Jupe not only makes the same mistake that Gordy's handler's made, but also shows that he's reached a point of desperation where Jupe thinks that he and his family alone are not enough to be successful. A good guess, given the failure of "Gold Rush" in the same location a few years before. The most successful part of his theme park is his semi-secret shrine to Gordy that he charges people to visit; it's no surprise that he then tries to hitch his star to another external entity. Why the name Jean Jacket? It's again double duty - not only does it tie the critter to a "hard to tame" horse, but more importantly, provides the arc for Em's transition from absolutely incompetent animal handler (even flubbing the safety briefing at the beginning COMPLETELY) to being the one who is actually able to "break" the creature, as well as showing how OJ and Em's relationship has been rebuilt by this ordeal to the intensity and love they had as children (the "looking at you" bit). Why does Jean Jacket hide so much of the time? Because it's a predator, and specifically a transient predator. I'm reminded of this passage talking about the two big categories of orcas in the Peter Watts novel Blindsight: "I said forget the language. Think about the lifestyle. Residents are fish-eaters, eh? They hang out in big groups, don't move around much, talk all the time." ... "Transients, now—they eat mammals. Seals, sea lions, smart prey. Smart enough to take cover when they hear a fluke slap or a click train. So transients are sneaky, eh? Hunt in small groups, range all over the place, keep their mouths shut so nobody hears 'em coming." -- Blindsight, Peter Watts So yes, Jean Jacket hides a lot of the time, especially now that it found a reliable food source. How/why does Angel survive? Dumb luck. While he was wrapping himself in the tarp (which caused him to stop staring at it when he first got hit by it), he was also tangled in the barbed-wire fence. You can actually see him still attached to the fence as he's pulled skyward, which is what keeps him from being drawn into Jean Jacket. Sure, he probably should have a few more broken bones and a concussion, but... Why doesn't Lucky die in the Star Lasso Experience? Because Jupe fastened that cage down. While Jean Jacket consistently pulls loose objects into itself, it's only after consuming all the people there that it has the ... strength? energy? ... to do enough to damage the Haywood ranch. The entirety of Jupiter's Claim is left intact, so why expect another building there to be lifted up? Glass (even plexiglass) is heavy. Perhaps the most obvious of Screen Rant's questions, though - and one I heard in the theater - was asking why OJ didn't notice Jean Jacket for six months. As Screen Rant puts it: Not only does he not notice the strange cloud hovering around the Agua Dulce ranch, but he also doesn't pay attention to the power outages, or the reports of the people who have gone missing. There's two big reasons. The first is that Jean Jacket had - until Ghost and Em accidentally attracted its attention - been sticking around Jupiter's Claim and largely staying out of sight. The power outages have a radius that does not extend all the way from Jupiter's Claim to the Haywood ranch, so if the very practical and matter-of-fact OJ had not been looking, he wouldn't have noticed any of it. Would you notice a power outage two blocks away if it didn't affect you? The other is something called "inattention blindness". Our brains edit out things that we don't expect to see, particularly if the strange thing is something that doesn't pose an immediate threat or opportunity for us. Again, can you tell me which clouds were where the last time you looked out the window? I sure couldn't. And thanks to, well, geography, it's not uncommon for similar conditions to produce similar clouds on a regular basis. There are three broad groups of questions I've heard that I don't have answers for. I don't have any explanations why Holst shoots on a particular type of film, or doesn't have a reload canister ready. (They start shooting beforehand because Holst is documenting the whole thing, not just the appearance of Jean Jacket, so yes, he wants the whole thing on his IMAX camera. Holst is obsessed with legacy more than any of the others - also why he goes to get the "impossible" shot, trying to secure his legacy at the cost of his life.) I don't know why satellites don't pick up Jean Jacket's EM disturbances. Then again, we don't know squat about Jean Jacket's EM disturbances, other than they have a limited range and kill power sources. It's also not an EMP in the way that we normally think about it - because the devices come back on without their memory or drives corrupted. The third category is about Jean Jacket, and I think that our ignorance there is the point. Where was Jean Jacket before all this? Don't know. Where did it come from? Don't know. And I think we shouldn't. Jean Jacket's design is not that of a typical movie monster. It is alien as hell, combining flowing forms with right angles that nature simply does not make. It moves in ways that are frankly impossible. And in this, Jean Jacket achieves something that no number of Pacific Rim kaiju can: it is eldritch and occult. Though we have a slow reveal of the creature, as in most horror films, in comparison to, say, Alien, it is fully revealed fairly early on. But unlike a "traditional" monster that frightens through its appearance, the horror of Jean Jacket is through what it implies. Jean Jacket's (frankly beautiful) final design and form, along with its unknown origin and movements, are what make it a thing of cosmic horror. The questions left behind are those that Lovecraft originally left us with a century ago. Its form may be now known to us - but its mysterious origins and abilities - as well as whether it is the only one - make us consider our place in the universe. Yes, Jean Jacket is a creature. And yes, it does have some predictable behaviors based on predator/prey relationships. And that's the scary part, because that's all we know. Think about it. Jean Jacket does not know about fake horses, or about technology. Less so than coyotes, wolves, or other terrestrial predators that have been forced to coexist with humans over the last century. So presumably, Jean Jacket is either new to the neighborhood, a juvenile, or both. Again, Jean Jacket - and presumably its species - are transients. Not just transients to California. Transients to Earth. Transients that, perhaps, last came by this part of space seventy-odd years ago and thirty five years after that, at the heights of the UFO crazes. Perhaps earlier, if you count pre-WWII sightings like these and these and these. Unlike the Predator race - whose motives are ultimately understandable by humans - the motivations, numbers, and so on of Jean Jacket's species are simply unknown. Forget whether or not Jean Jacket might have survived. That's not important. We don't know if Jean Jacket was defeated out of a lack of intelligence - or simply because it was ignorant. The Haywoods and Angel should enjoy their victory over Jean Jacket. Because we don't know if there are more. And if the next one might be just a little bit older, and a little bit smarter. Read the full article

Who’s the audience

The audience of this comic book wouldn’t be a standard DC/Marvel audience, simply because my comic isn’t about a superhero at all. There’s no vigilante or chosen one with special powers, it’s about a man doing his job and trying to make it through a cruel society. There are a lot of comic books about things besides superheroes but they’ve just never been nearly as well known and quite often not as popular. When you think about a comic character you probably imagine the cape and skin tight outfit around someone with a bodybuilder physique. The main company I always think about is Dark Horse simply because they have the most varied supply of comic books as they often will adapt and tell stories that DC or Marvel would never consider. At one point Dark Horse produced Mass Effect stories as well as adaptations of The Witcher. Image have done quite a few stories including The Walking Dead which is probably the most well known story not to feature a superhero. The people who enjoy these rarities in the industry would probably be much more interested in my comic. I’ve often found it weird that comics are mostly superhero oriented because it’s such an incredible way of storytelling. The audience of the walking dead might also like my comic because it’s also about people struggling to get by. I mainly think because Dark Horse publish so much sci-fi that would mean the fans and buyers of those comics would be the ones to also read my story, for instance Dark Horse published a graphic novel based on the rejected screenplay for Alien 3. 

“Guess  I  don’t  like  seeing  you  so  down...”

:｡･:*:･ﾟ’★,｡･:*:･ﾟ’☆  ||  @worthystill​ ( GERALT )

          It  was  unbecoming  of  a  witcher  to  care  too  much  about  anyone  or  anything.  In  his  mind,  he  had  but  two  purposes  in  life:  eliminating  monsters  and  fucking  each  time  opportunity  presented  itself.  That's  it.  That's  all  there  was  to  it  except  he  couldn't  help  but  note  how  the  then  stranger's  posture  told  a  tale  he  was  all  too  familiar  with.  He  knew  that  vibe,  having  experienced  it  often  enough  in  the  past  and  such  a  vibe  had  the  normally  standoffish  witcher  curious  enough  to  strike  up  a  conversation.  With  a  stiff  drink  in  hand  and  enough  coin  to  have  a  decent  time  if  it  came  to  it,  he  engaged  whom  he  assumed  to  be  another  warrior  like  himself,  hoping  the  conversation  would  lead  to  the  reason  behind  his  crestfallen  demeanor.

          It  started  with  Geralt  noting  the  enormous  hammer  the  warrior  carried.  It  didn't  look  like  anything  he'd  ever  seen  before.  They  compared  their  experience  using  various  weapons  with  Geralt  deciding  he  preferred  the  feel  of  a  sword  taking  down  his  enemies.  This  stranger  ---  Thor  he  called  himself  ---  obviously  adored  his  hammer.  A  few  mugs  later,  they  were  renting  a  room  for  the  evening  as  well  as  some  company  to  lighten  the  mood.  Geralt  would  NEVER  consider  himself  some  kind  of  beacon  for  great  life  advice.  If  he  had  all  the  answers,  he'd  probably  think  much  more  of  himself.  Furthermore,  maybe  people  would  actually  like  him  as  opposed  to  merely  tolerating  him  for  his  services.  Either  way,  he  didn't  go  out  of  his  way  to  broach  the  root  of  Thor's  trouble's  and  instead,  opted  for  a  good  old  fashioned  distraction.  Because  that’s  all  Geralt  was  good  for  (  not  knowing  any  better  himself. )

          It  worked  well  enough.  Or  he  guessed.  The  ladies  were  more  than  accommodating  and  left  completely  spent  by  the  time  they  were  done  with  them.  Geralt  sent  them  on  their  way  with  a  fat  bag  of  coin  and  when  Thor  didn't  protest,  he  motioned  for  him  to  join  him  in  bed  (  there  was  only  one  after  all ).  They'd  rest  and  maybe  Geralt  would  travel  with  him  for  a  while.  Not  like  he  had  much  to  lose  given  he  was  alone  with  his  horse.

          Now,  Geralt  wouldn't  consider  himself  high  on  men.  He  never  laid  with  one.  Never  had  a  desire  to,  but  he  wasn't  blind  either.  Thor  was  easily  the  best  looking  man  he's  ever  seen  and  eyes  did  their  fair  share  of  trying  not  to  wander  too  much  during  their  tag  team  session  an  hour  before.  There  were  many  things  he  could  see  himself  trying  during  their  romp  with  the  girls,  but  oop.  Could  have  been  the  ale  talking.  He  drifted  off  some  time  after  that  thought,  completely  dead  to  the  world  and  the  man  lying  next  to  him.

          Maybe  it  was  that  witcher  instinct  that  jerked  him  awake  but  yellow  eyes  fluttered  open  to  find  Thor's  back  to  him,  wearing  an  even  more  pitiful  posture  than  before.  Brows  furrowed  and  instinctively  he  sat  up  enough  to  wrap  a  large  arm  around  his  chest.  ❝Cáemm,❞  he  whispered.  ❝Come. Rest.❞  And,  surprisingly,  Thor  complied  without  a  fuss.  Ask  Geralt  tomorrow  and  he'd  deny  giving  a  damn  about  anyone's  feelings.  He's  deny  so  much  as  looking  at  another  man  let  alone  snuggling  with  one  but...

          ❝I  approached  you  earlier  because  you  reminded  me  of  myself,❞  he  confessed  quietly.  ❝I  believe  only  warriors  can  truly  understand  one  another  and  the  burdens  that  come  with  always  fighting,  but  I  think  it's  a  lot  different  for  you.  See  me?  I'm  just  a  guy  who  fights  for  coin  and  a  body  to  make  me  forget  each  night.  You  on  the  other  hand,  seem  like  a  guy  fighting  for  all  the  right  reasons.  That  makes  your  load  heavier  than  my  own  because  you  truly  give  a  shit  about  people.❞

          Fingers  combed  through  Thor's  hair,  almost  tempted  to  lean  over  him  so  he  could  see  those  eyes  one  last  time  but  he  didn't.  It  was  almost  too  out  of  character  and  the  thought  had  him  mentally  recoiling.  It  was  definitely  the  ale.  ❝I'm  sorry,❞  he  added  after  a  while.  ❝For  some  strange  reason,  I'm  kinda  bothered  that  you're  down.  Good  people  like  yourself  don't  deserve  the  bad  shit.❞