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nazmazh · 6 months

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Man, just thinking back to moral panics again.

It wasn't quite as sustained as like, the early 90s panic that led to the formation of the ESRB, but remember how up in arms some reactionaries were about Mass Effect having sex scenes in it?

Like, relatively tame scenes that were in-line with its M rating. Pretty tame compared to stuff that's been allowed in R-Rated movies (I don't know that I've ever actually seen those scenes tbh, but from what it sounds like, they're probably closer to the PG-13 side of the scale, and might only need a little different editing to get them there, at least, by movie standards, if BioWare/EA wanted to).

But still, the idea that a mainstream game would have any depiction of sex? It was outrageous! It was disgusting! It was positively pornographic!

Heck, they got their activists on actual news shows (Okay, well, Fox News at least) to claim that it was actually porn in a video game. A video game that was definitely a children's toy, like all video games.

And this was just a few years after the Hot Coffee controversy where an abandoned sex mini-game was dummied out, but not actually removed from the game in GTA: San Andreas. Because the devs had realized that it probably wasn't going to fly anyway. But, because they hadn't properly removed it, some modders were able to reactivate and gain access to... the blocky, fully-clothed thrusting, accompanied by the audio of the implied, fade-to-black sex scene that was left in the game.

But yes, unsurprisingly that was also met with outrage and wailing and gnashing of teeth.

Nowadays, though?

There's just straight-up sex scenes in Baldur's Gate 3. Absolutely not to the level of "pornographic" or anything, but there's more skin shown - Fully frontal nudity from all participants, including some level of mix-and-match gender fluidity if you want there to be, and all characters are attracted equally to all genders and they can be combined in any pairing you wish - And multiple partners in some cases.

There's also the fact that one companion/partner can and will shapeshift into a bear during the act.

That's the big "wait, really?" one, though there's definitely a few other scenes that definitely would raise some eyebrows.

But I can't say I've heard even the slightest peep from the moral crusaders about the game. Heck, it's even Dungeons & Dragons-based, and they used to love accusing that whole property of being a satanic plot to recruit and sacrifice children.

Honestly? The most complaints I've heard about BG3 are from chuds upset that you can pick your pronouns and have trans and nonbinary character options - That gets grouped into the general "woke is bad" banner.

Times really have changed. Outrage ain't what it used to be.

I suppose in the years between Mass Effect and now, there's been a lot more sex scenes in M-rated games - The Witcher series prominently comes to mind. And the outrage has seemed quieter, more reduced every time. Nowadays, I think they just largely pass by un-commented on, unless they have some other "woke ideology" in the games.

I guess I keep coming back to that "outrage has changed" point because it really has.

They don't seem to go after individual works anymore - Not in the same way. They'll focus on broader themes and paint a whole swath of works as "woke" and complain about those themes and try to get them removed from the works if possible - Demanding changes, making mods to remove game content, and failing that calling for a broad ban - Not just the individual work, but all works where you uh... choose pronouns, I guess, for instance.

It's probably much the same as any other medium. The culture war evolves as the medium is no longer inherently scary and unfamiliar.

#rantings and ramblings #culture war #moral panic #further thoughts

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staragroza · 2 years

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My grian designs from oldest (2019) to newest (2022) the 1st image is from 2019, its my only drawing of grian from that time. i then kinda took a 2 year break from drawing him haha, the next 2 images are from 2021 and the last pics are from this year. As you can see, he gets more bird-y and i think thats nice. kinda of a break down of the designs under vvvv

:readmore:

2019 - i basically drew his skin how most people drew him around that time, i wasnt super in to hermit at that time so i didnt bother making a better design. 2021 (1) - i finally got in to hermit craft again around season 8 where the moon was being silly, and that was the time where grian had the tired skin. I went with parrot wings since theyre majorly popular in the fandom. i gave him his usual clothes just more roughed up. he has a purple ring in his eyes to represent the witcher part, just mostly subtle.

2021 (2) - space grian ! never finished drawing like the previous one but there is a tiny change, the wings. It was then where to boatem crew landed in void/space/whatever. i like the idea of grians wings being able to shapeshift to whatever he needs (thanks to that one fic on ao3 about grian shifting his wings to diffrent species. if i find it again ill link it here), and since he’s a watcher in a way, i thought his wings would become more spacey with starts ! . this is pretty much for this one 2022 (1) - MAJOR upgrade from the last one. i made it around the break between season 8 and 9. I wanted to go for more avian/birdy side of him in this one, hence the 2 wings on his head. I decided to abond the parrot wings, mainly cause it just didnt fit the grian in my head. His wings are not really designed after a particular bird, i just made them look closer to his hair color (they also got silly eyes in them to once again refrence the watchers).

He has more feathers on his face/along his body, which most you cant see but trust me its there. His eyes still have the watcher ring color. His clothes changed too, i dumped the sneakers and his older pants. I gave him strong high calf shoes where he can tuck his pants legs in lawl. He has more bags/pockets stuff to carry his stuff inside (its like the inventory just with more logic to the real world.) there is feathers sticking out of his shoes for whatever reason. I was originally planning on giving him bird feet and claws but i didnt know how to draw it so i went with covering his hands with the sweater, and giving him normal legs. 2022 (2) - Ah yes, the actual bird-yfiction of grian. The clothes stayed pretty much the same, i just gave him a pair of glasses that were inspired by my good friends @he1ian grian design. I made him way shorter and this time went and gave him bird legs and “claws” (glorified long black nails lol). His hair has became longer, which he can now put in to a ponytail. He has trinkets from his friends on the bag (which i will draw more clearer one day), red scrape of fabric from mumbos tie and a moon charm from pearl. (there will be pins, one will have vote for mumbo, the other one will be the sarah pin and etc. mainly memories from past seasons and other stuff ^_^)

I deleted one pair of bags from his pants due to him now being shorter. If you compare his height to my scar design his head is somehwree under scars shoulder. OH YEAH he also has a tail now For whatever reason.

THE END ! if anyone read this thank you ur the best i hope you enjoyed my ramblings of a mad man.

#groza fanart #groza art #hermitcraft grian #grian #grian fanart #hermitcraft fanart #hc grian #hc grian fanart #groza rambles #character design #i like rambling about hermits #hermitcraft

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bamf-jaskier · 3 years

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I’m reading a non-canon short story written by Andrzej Sapkowski about Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding called Something Ends, Something Begins and my heart is literally so full. Even Asaps has to get tired of having so much angst so this short story is a literal fluff-fest and I love it so much.

So I thought I would share some of my favorite quotes from the story and if you all want to read it, here is the link.

"One day she'll break her neck," growled Yennefer, watching Ciri galloping in the splashing water, bent, firm in the stirrups. "One day your crazy daughter will break her neck."

Geralt turned his head and without a word looked into the sorceress's violet eyes.

"All right, then," smiled Yennefer, without averting her eyes. "Sorry, our daughter."

She hugged him again, pressing herself against him firmly, bit him in the arm again, kissed him, and bit him once more. Geralt touched her hair with his lips and carefully pulled her gown over her shoulders.

I am literally...I swear, we finally get domestic Yenralt and it isn’t even in the canon universe. I am literally going to fight someone. This is so damn cute and the way Yennefer is like “our daughter” my goddamn heart.

The list of the guests wasn't that long. The engaged couple compiled it together and charged Dandelion with sending the invitations. Soon it turned out that the troubadour lost the list before he could even read it. Because he was ashamed to confess, he used a cheap trick and invited whomever he could. Of course he knew Geralt and Yennefer well enough that he didn't miss anyone important, but it wouldn't have been him if he didn't enrich the list of the guests by an admirable number of quite random persons.

Why does it just make sense that Dandelion would fuck this up? It’s so in-character, putting him in charge of the guest list was the first mistake.

No one invited the golden dragon Villentretenmerth, because no one knew how to invite him and where to look for him. To the general astonishment the dragon turned up, of course incognito, in the form of the knight Borch Three Jackdaws. Of course, where Dandelion was present, one could not speak of any incognito, but even so few believed when the poet pointed at the curly-haired knight and claimed it was a dragon.

The image of Dandelion just pointing at this dude and yelling “He’s a dragon!” is fucking hilarious, especially when you consider most people don’t know dragons can shapeshift.

"Was it you who invited

Triss Merigold?

"No," the witcher shook his head and silently praised the fact that the mutation of his blood system didn't allow him to blush.

"Not me. I think it was Dandelion, even though all of them claim to have learned about the wedding from the magical crystals."

"I don't want Triss to be present on my wedding!"

"But why? She's your friend."

"Don't make a fool out of me, witcher! Everyone knows you slept with her!"

"That's not true."

Yennefer's violet eyes narrowed dangerously.

"It is true."

"Is not!"

"It is!"

"All right," he turned around angrily. "It is true. So?"

The sorceress was quiet for a moment, playing with the obsidian star on the black velvet ribbon around her neck.

"Nothing," she said at last. "I just wanted you to admit it. Never try to lie to me, Geralt. Ever."

I love the little bickering. Also, like, even though Triss and Yennefer are friends try valid of her to not want her at the wedding. She slept with Geralt!! Love how Geralt tries to deny it at first but gives up ten seconds later. Geralt really tried to pull the “just friends” card and Yennefer was having NONE of it.

The doppler accused Villentretenmerth of racism, chauvinism and lack of knowledge on the discussion's topic. Therefore, the insulted Villentretenmerth changed for a moment into his natural dragon form, destroying several pieces of furniture and causing a general panic. When the situation calmed down, a fierce quarrel began, in which humans and non-humans accused each other of lack of open-mindedness and racial tolerance.

A quite unexpected twist in the discussion came from the freckled Merle, the whore who didn't look like a whore. Merle announced that the whole debate was stupid and pointless and didn't concern true professionals, who don't dinstinguish between such things, which she was willing to prove on the spot (for an adequate reward, of course), even with the dragon Villentretenmerth in his natural form.

In the silence that fell abruptly in that instant they heard the female medium proclaim that she's willing to do the same, and for free. Villentretenmerth quickly changed the topic and began discussing safer topics, such as economics, politics, hunting, fishing and gambling.

Everything about this sequence is perfect, absolutely prime. Dragons and Dopplers fighting, Merle saying she would fuck a dragon in dragon form. This has EVERYTHING.

"I'll get going right after the feast," Ciri repeated.

"I want... I want to feel the wind in my face on the back of a galloping horse again. I want to see the stars on the horizon again, I want to whistle Dandelion's ballads at night. I'm longing for a fight, the dance with a sword, I'm longing for the risk, for the delight victory brings me. And I'm longing for solitude. Do you understand me?"

"Of course," Geralt smiled sadly. "Of course I understand you, Ciri. You're my daughter, you're a witcher. You'll do what you must. But I must tell you one thing. One thing. You can't run away forever, even though you'll always try."

"I know," she replied and cuddled herself closer to him. "I still have hope that one day... If I wait, if I'm patient, then I, too, perhaps will live such a beautiful day like this... Such a nice day... Even though..."

"What, Ciri?"

"I've never been pretty. And with that scar..."

"Ciri," he cut her off. "You're the most beautiful girl in the world. Right after Yen, of course."

"Oh, Geralt..."

"If you don't believe me, ask Dandelion."

"Oh, Geralt."

Ciri telling Geralt she wants to travel and move on is just heartbreaking but it makes sense. She has more adventures to go on. Geralt’s story is ending. Hers is beginning. Also Ciri feeling insecure about her appearance and Geralt being a good dad and comforting her? Amazing.

"I have unfinished business there," she hissed. "For Mistle. For my Mistle. Even though I avenged her, but for Mistle one death is not enough."

Bonhart, he thought. She killed him out of hatred. Oh, Ciri, Ciri. You're standing on the edge of an abyss, daughter. Not a thousand deaths would avenge your Mistle. Beware of hatred, Ciri, it consumes like cancer.

"Watch out for yourself," he whispered."I'd rather watch out for others," she smiled ominously. "It pays off more, it works better in the long run."

I will never see her again, he thought. If she leaves, I will never see her again.

"You will," she answered unexpectedly and smiled with a smile of a sorceress, not of a witcher. "You will, Geralt."

When Geralt asks what Ciri plans to do on her travels she literally says: I am going to avenge my dead girlfriend and murder some people. Which is not a healthy coping mechanism but damn if the idea of a gay revenge story doesn’t sound good to read.

The priestesses Iola and Eurneid also sobbed, when Yennefer refused to put on the white wedding dress they had made for her. Not even Nenneke's mediation helped. Yennefer cursed, threw around hexes and dishes, while repeating that she looks like a fucking virgin in white.

The enraged Nenneke began yelling, too, and told the sorceress that she behaved worse than three fucking virgins at once. Yennefer responded by conjuring a ball of lightning and demolishing the roof of the corner tower, which had its good side, too. The crash was so terrible that Caldemeyn's daughter got shock from it and her diarrhea stopped.

Once again, this scene has EVERYTHING. Yennefer getting so pissed it demolishes a tower. The shaking being so bad it stops diarrhea. Also, why does Asaps use diarrhea so often in his books? You know what, I don’t want to know.

Triss Merigold and the witcher Eskel from Kaer Morhen, were seen again, sneaking, arms linked, into the garden summerhouse.

Is that...IMPLIED TRISSKEL?? OKAY THEN. All the Trisskel friends out there: They hooked up at Geralt and Yennefer’s wedding I don’t make the rules.

"Yen..."

She looked breathtaking. Black wavy locks, curled up with a golden tiara, fell in a shining cascade over her shoulders and the high collar of a long white brocade dress with black-striped sleeves, pulled together on a bodice with countless drapes of lilac ribbons.

"Flowers, don't forget the flowers," warned Triss Merigold, all in dark blue, and handed a bouquet of white roses to the bride. "Oh, Yen, I'm so happy..."

"Triss, darling," sobbed Yennefer all of a sudden, upon which both sorceresses embraced and kissed the air around their ears and diamond earrings.

"Enough of those endearments," ordered Nenneke, smoothing the folds on her snow-white priestess dress. "We're going to the chapel. Iola, Eurneid, hold her dress, or she'll kill herself on the stairs.

Triss and Yennefer’s friendship is so sweet sometimes. Like, they would literally murder each other but they would also murder FOR each other too.

Yennefer approached Geralt and with a hand in a white lace glove she straightened the collar of his black cloak, embroidered with silver. Geralt offered her an arm.

"Geralt," she whispered into his ear. "I still can't believe it."

"Yen," he answered her in a whisper. "I love you."

"I know."

I don’t know is Asaps is purposefully referencing Star Wars here but either way this had me tearing up. Geralt and Yennefer deserve a happy ending and even if it’s not officially canon the author wrote it so this is canon in my head.

The wedding was splendid. Ladies and maidens cried collectively. Herwig was the master of ceremony, a former king, but still a king. Vesemir from Kaer Morhen and Nenneke stood in as parents of the betrothed couple, Triss Merigold and Eskel as witnesses.

Okay but why is Asaps sneaking in the Trisskel? I want more of it and this pairing definitely intrigues me. Also Vesemir and Nenneke as their parents? That’s so damn sweet. I swear to fuck this entire short story is too damn cute and I want more of it.

I cannot stress how much I love the energy Merle brings to the table. Saying she would straight up fuck a dragon. The power of it all.

#I am OBSESSED #like this has EVERYTHING #and I mean EVERYTHING #the witcher #yenralt #asaps #andrzej sapkowski #The Witcher books #myposts #yennefer #geralt #triss #eskel #trisskel #ciri #wedding

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jaskicr · 4 years

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geraskier soul animal au

soulmate au where people can shapeshift into the animal that best represents their soulmate, but the animal that represents jaskier is not a frail bird like anyone would expect (because deep down he’s fucking feral), which creates all sorts of angst and complications.

geralt can transform into a some kind of large, spotted cat, and he thinks that it’s fitting, that the soulmate of a witcher would have the ferocity and aggressiveness of a deadly predator.

jaskier can shapeshift into a white wolf (classic, i know) and he’s always looked forward to meeting his soulmate, who is undoubtedly fierce and loyal, and he’s pretty sure he’s half in love with them already.

when they meet in posada, jaskier begins to suspect that geralt might be his soulmate, so he starts singing about the white wolf.

after travelling together for some time, jaskier is pretty sure that geralt’s the one.

he’s deadly to his enemies, but loyal to those he cares for - roach is treated with the utmost gentleness, and jaskier is sometimes the recipient of his quiet affection.

and it fits geralt, the white wolf, the moniker jaskier has bestowed on him. something deep in jaskier’s soul just knows - his heart yearns for him, for his beautiful white wolf.

geralt, on the other hand, has no fucking idea. people don’t usually shift in front of those who aren’t their soulmate, so he has no idea that jaskier’s animal is a white wolf.

it doesn’t even cross geralt’s mind that jaskier might be his soulmate. his bard is loud and loving but breakable and fragile, and nothing like the big cat that resides deep inside geralt.

or so he thinks

yes, he sees the flashes of aggression when jaskier lunges at drunken men who insult him in taverns, his seething anger when people call geralt butcher, the small dagger he keeps tucked in his boot, but those moments, as much as they make his heart ache in fondness, are fleeting and geralt doesn’t dwell on them, doesn’t think they mean anything.

meanwhile, jaskier pines, wondering if geralt knows. maybe he does, and he just doesn’t want jaskier as his soulmate, and the lack of acknowledgement is geralt’s way of quietly rejecting him.

one day, when jaskier carelessly wishes for death on his bardic nemesis, there’s something about that which tugs at geralt, makes him wonder -

and then there’s yennefer, beautiful and lethal, unafraid to go after what she wants, and geralt thinks that maybe, maybe this fierce woman is his soulmate.

it would suit her - she’s feline in her grace, ruthless in pursuing her desires, and utterly, utterly deadly, and geralt thinks she might be the one.

so he binds them together - he’s waited so long, and he doesn’t want to lose her.

yennefer doesn’t know if they’re soulmates - she’s a sorceress, and their shifting is part of what they had to give up (and one of the things she wants to reclaim).

she doesn’t remember what animal she used to be able to shift to, but geralt looks at her with something like awe in his eyes, and she’s inexplicably drawn to him in a way she’s never experienced before.

so she doesn’t question it when geralt tells her they’re soulmates - she takes this revelation, grasps it desperately, telling herself that it’s possible, that she can take back what she’s lost.

when geralt tells jaskier that yen’s his soulmate, joy in his eyes that jaskier’s never seen before, jaskier’s heart breaks.

he thinks of his white wolf, and he wants to scream, wants to tell geralt that no, you’re mine, but he can’t.

jaskier has never seen geralt so happy before, and he doesn’t begrudge his friend, his love, his soulmate, the happiness he more than deserves.

over the next few years, geralt and yennefer meet every few months, and each time, jaskier’s heart breaks just a little more.

he drinks himself into oblivion, thinking about an unrequited bond, a white wolf who will never love him, the man who is jaskier’s soulmate but jaskier isn’t his.

on the mountain, borch tells yennefer that she will never regain her womb, that she’ll never have a soulmate.

yennefer is enraged. geralt’s my soulmate, she snarls, if that’s possible, you can’t tell me that my search for a child is futile

borch just looks at her sadly. you knew the risks when you chose to embrace your power, he tells her. chaos has a price, and you do not have a soulmate. geralt belongs to another.

yennefer is left shocked, upset. borch tells her about geralt’s wish, and she leaves, seething with fury at the witcher and anguish at what she may never reclaim.

she truly thought she’d gotten what other sorcerors had claimed was impossible, but apparently it had been nothing more than a djinn’s meddling, and it hurts to know that there isn’t a part of her soul out there, waiting for her.

your soulmate is still out there, and deep down, you know it, borch tells geralt. go. go find them. they are your destiny.

geralt is agonised. he thought he’d found his soulmate, but apparently he hadn’t, and he’d really thought she was the one.

he thought he’d finally found someone who was powerful, who could keep up with and and wouldn’t die on him - but it had been nothing more than wishful thinking.

he’s angry, angry at himself for so foolishly reaching out, for being so desperate for his soulmate that he’d deluded himself into thinking that yennefer was his.

then jaskier tries to talk to him, and geralt turns, a mixture of pain and anguish and anger swirling in his gut.

if life could give me one blessing -

jaskier leaves. his heart has been broken one too many times, and he can’t take it anymore. once he’s far enough, he shift and howls, a sound of pure grief and heartbreak, and runs down the mountain, determined to get as far away as possible.

the further jaskier gets, the deeper the hollowness in his heart becomes as he races away from his soulmate, but he persists.

he’d given his heart, offered it to geralt, who’d stomped on it in favour of another. jaskier can’t deal with that, not anymore. soulmates or not, he won’t let himself get hurt that way again.

geralt watches his bard walk away, and something in him tears apart, ripping open an abyss in his chest, and he wonders, he wonders.

i will write this but for now i just needed to get this off my chest. im not sure what big cat jaskier will be - im thinking a leopard or maybe a jaguar. leopards are more lean and agile and they’re more territorial, but jaguars have like the strongest bite out of all big cats, which just fits how inwardly aggressive jaskier is.

the idea of him being a big cat inside is inspired by @witchersjaskier whose fic on it is amazing!!

#geraskier #jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher #soulmate au #after that they travel alone for a while as geralt sorts out his emotional constipation #and jaskier tries to get over his heartbreak #and geralt reflects on all the times jaskier has been way more feral than a bard has any right to be #and theres a dawning realisation in him #the next time they meet jaskier is fending off a bunch of bandits #geralt is terrified and runs to defend him #but by the time he gets there all the bandits are on the ground and jaskiers dagger is bloody #and in that moment geralt just knows #mine*

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jaskierswolf · 3 years

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What Form Love Takes

Summary: Geralt and Jaskier return once again to Kaer Morhen, only this time they're travelling high in the skies.

- Can be read as stand-alone - Part 8 of my Shapeshifter!Jaskier AU

CW: Non-sexual/non-graphic nudity (they take a bath)

___________

The fire in Jaskier’s lungs burned as he flew over the mountains. Another year on the path had come and gone. Winter was creeping in, a slow frost carpeting the Continent, tendrils reaching further south with each day. Both Jaskier and Geralt were anxious to return to their home in the Blue Mountains. They’d spent most of the year searching for Yennefer of Vengerberg with no success. Sorceresses were funny people and hard to track down. Jaskier had no doubt that the witch would turn up when she was ready. He roared as the crumbling keep came into sight, a pillar of flames bursting free from his lungs. The colours of the flame danced in front of his eyes, more vibrant in this form than any other. He could see the heat haze rippling through the air and he had to resist the urge to dive and spin through the air, dancing in the waves his flame had created.

But he had a rather fragile witcher on his back who would not be able to hold on if he were to dive the way he wanted. Geralt’s arms already had a death grip around his neck and the flight had been pretty steady so far. He heard his mate groan and felt the slight pressure of Geralt’s head pressing into his scales.

He snorted a smoke ring and flew through it. Flying was a phenomenal feeling. Geralt was just whining for the sake of it.

“Jask…”

Jaskier snorted again. There wasn’t much else he could say to his darling mate in this form without using telepathy, and he had never quite mastered that skill. He had a habit of barrelling into memories instead of placing his thoughts in the other’s mind. So he preferred to avoid it. Instead he just sniffed the air. The scent of roasted venison hit his senses, making his stomach rumble. He peered out over the horizon, a small smoke stack was puffing above the keep. Vesemir already had dinner on the go. Jaskier let out a happy rumble, not too dissimilar to a purr, and he felt Geralt’s finger brush the scales of his neck.

“What have you seen?” Geralt asked, still sounding a little queasy from their flight from Oxenfurt.

He pointed his snout towards the keep that was growing larger the closer they approached. Geralt should be able to see it now with his witcher senses.

“Kaer Morhen,” Geralt hummed and Jaskier nodded. He resisted the urge to dive towards their home. Instead he started a slower descent. When they got closer he still he began to circle the keep, getting lower with every turn.

He roared when he spotted Eskel and Vesemir waiting for the in the courtyard, another pillar of fire tore through the sky before he landed with a heavy thud on the ground. The two witchers waved them down.

“Always a dramatic entrance, bard,” Eskel laughed, reaching out his hand so that Jaskier could bump his snout against the palm of Eskel’s hand.

“We were late setting off.”

“We were starting to worry,” Vesemir huffed, arms crossed in front of his chest. Jaskier felt a swell of bitter pride in his chest. How dare this witcher insinuate that he couldn’t look after his mate? He was a dragon! He let out a low snarl, warmth heating up in his lungs.

“Easy, Jask,” Geralt rubbed the back of his neck in a warning. It wasn’t enough to incapacitate him but it did send a slight ripple of warmth down his spine. He blinked, forcing down his more draconic urges, and focussed on the voice of his mate. “Where’s Lambert?” Geralt asked, not removing his grip from Jaskier’s neck.

“He got caught up in Nilfgaard with that cat of his,” Vesemir grunted “they’re alive.”

Jaskier snorted, tail flicking against the ground. He was looking forward to having his family back together again, the disappointment was almost overwhelming. It wasn’t fair. They already had to walk the path alone throughout the year and now he couldn’t even see them for winter. Geralt must have sensed his distressed as he nuzzled his face against Jaskier’s neck.

“Wintering in Nilfgaard seems pretty cushy to me,” Eskel noted. “A lot less cold.”

Jaskier hissed at the blond witcher, earning himself a laugh from Geralt. “We miss them too, Jask.”

“We’ll get together in the summer for one of the festivals?” Eskel suggested. “There’s always plenty of contracts around then, I think the wine gets to everyone’s head.”

“Good idea.”

Jaskier let out a rumble of agreement before shaking Geralt from his back. The smell of venison in this form was too much, it was making him hungry and he had to dig his craws into the stones to stop himself from charging through the keep to the kitchens. He needed to change from this form, and fast.

Geralt landed next to him and pulled off the makeshift saddlebags with their belongs. Jaskier closed his eyes, letting his magic loose, rippling out in waves over the shiny red scales until pink skin morphed back into view. He landed on his hands and knees on the stone, the chill of the mountainous winter breeze quickly seeping into his bones. “Bollocks,” he hissed and launched himself into Geralt’s waiting arms. “It’s fucking freezing.”

Geralt chuckled and wrapped his arms around Jaskier, shielding him from the wind. Jaskier felt the press of Geralt’s lips on his hair and he sighed happily. The wind might be like shards of ice cutting into his skin but his lover was attentive and Jaskier felt safe in his arms. “We’ve had a long journey, we’ll be down for dinner,” Geralt told the oldest witcher before pulling Jaskier inside the keep. They dumped their bags in the entrance hall before making a beeline for the hot springs that lay deep within the keep, the only part of the building that remained unscathed from the battles of so long ago.

Jaskier shivered violently in Geralt’s arms. He should have transformed into something with fur first but he’d been stuck without words as they flew over the continent for hours, barely taking a break. His back and shoulder were aching from the journey, a phantom pain where his wings had been. The hot springs would do wonders for the aches. “H. Home,” he stammered through chattering teeth.

Geralt hummed, fingers rubbing circles into his upper arm as they walked. The corridors grew darker as they walked further down, soon the light from the windows and cracks in the wall faded away and the only light left was the glow from the torches along the wall. Geralt held his hand out in front of them, a tiny little ball of fire in his palm. It wasn’t much but the heat from the flames was blissful.

Fuck, humans really weren’t meant for the winters of Kaer Morhen. This year must have been colder than usual, as Jaskier could have sworn that he could usually at least stand outside long enough to strip out of his clothes, perhaps the weariness from the journey had worn him down more than he thought. Now that he thought about it he eyes were starting to droop and Geralt was practically carrying him through the corridors.

“‘M tired…”

“I know.”

Jaskier wanted to make a joke about Geralt’s ever eloquent ways but his tongue felt too heavy in his mouth. Bath, food and a good sleep. That’s what he wanted.

The air was thick with steam as they pushed the door open into the springs. Jaskier sighed happily as the heat prickled against his skin. He took one look at the pools of water and shifted. Geralt’s hand reached up to hold his medallion as Jaskier’s magic whipped out around them, the crack of bones bouncing off the walls. The room grew bigger and he fell to the ground on four paws, scratching against the wet stones as he scurried to the water’s edge. He chosen this form well. He knew he was too tired to bathe without falling asleep and he would really rather not drown. He squeaked up at Geralt before diving into the water.

It was warm, hotter than the water he’d usually have liked in this form. The otters of this species were used to cold open sea water but he wanted to float. He swam under the water for a while, letting the warmth seep into his fur before breaching the surface. He rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, keeping his paws tucked into his chest.

“Jaskier,” Geralt chuckled and Jaskier felt himself float a little further, the water rippling as Geralt finally joined him. “We can’t stay here for too long, love.”

Jaskier squeaked, not opening his eyes. He would stay here forever if he could.

“Are otters really that fluffy?”

Another squeak, and he cracked one eye open to glare at Geralt. His anger didn’t last long when he saw the look Geralt was giving him. It was unbearably fond, head tilted and a soft smile on his face. His hair had come loose from the leather hair tie on the back of his head, and water was clinging to his chest, caught in the dark grey tuffs of hair. Jaskier felt a swell of love in his heart, it was almost too much. He’d spent so many years worrying that he would never find a partner that would accept his true self, hiding his magic away like it was a dirty secret. If he felt himself falling in love then he would sneak out of the window in the dead of night, never to return.

He’d been convinced that no one would ever love him when they knew what he was, and he wasn’t willing to give his heart away to someone that couldn’t accept him. Geralt had blown past all those walls in an instant, and somehow Jaskier had managed to worm his way past the witcher’s own defences, finding both a lover and a new pack to call his own.

He pushed at the water with his paws and floated over to where Geralt was sat at the edge of the pools, he didn’t want to lose Geralt. He couldn’t loose Geralt. He reached out to his partner with his paws, with a quiet squeak.

“I love you too,” Geralt breathed in a soft voice, like he was in awe of Jaskier. As if the witcher wasn’t the most incredible creature on the whole Continent.

Geralt let Jaskier hold onto one of his fingers, tiny paws wrapping around the digit as if it were a lifeline. Jaskier chattered happily before closing his eyes, finally letting the exhaustion wash over him. He was safe, he was home, and Geralt wouldn’t let him float away.

He woke up to a gentle rocking movement, his face pressed against Geralt’s chest as the witcher carried him back to his room. He blinked, flicking his tail out behind him. It was only when he started purring that he realised he’d shifted forms in his sleep. His ears flicked out and he pawed at Geralt’s shirt.

“You only changed once I picked you up,” Geralt answered his unasked question, scratching him gently behind the ears. “I don’t think cats like the water very much.”

Jaskier meowed softly and nuzzled against Geralt’s chest. A gentle bite against Geralt’s collar was all the warning the witcher got before he let his magic ripple out over his skin. Geralt grunted under the sudden weight of the human in his arms, changing his hold so Jaskier was being carried bridal style up to their rooms. “Hey,” he mumbled sleepily “how long was I out?”

“Nearly an hour. Vesemir came to find us a few minutes ago. he’s keeping our food warm.”

Jaskier yawned and then pressed his lips to Geralt’s shoulder, sadly now covered by the tattered black shirt he wore under his armour. “I love you, darling.”

Geralt’s laughed rumbled in his chest and Jaskier smiled, still half asleep, as he buried his face in the crook of Geralt’s neck. Geralt’s hand cradled the back of his neck, carding through his hair, and Jaskier was asleep again in seconds.

The next time he woke they were back in Geralt’s bedroom, the witcher was now fully dressed in his thick winter clothes that the witchers preferred to wear in the evenings once training was done for the day. Jaskier was buried under thick furs on their bed, still naked. A roaring fire was blazing in the hearth, filling the room with its heat. “Dinner?” he asked as he blinked the sleep from his eyes. His stomach rumbled as if to repeat his question.

Geralt chuckled and crossed the room to kiss him on the top of his head. “Ready when you are.”

His stomach growled again and he grinned sheepishly. “I’m starving,” he whined. “why did you let me sleep?”

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him. “You just flew us halfway across the Continent, Jask, you needed the rest.”

“But I’m hungry,” he pouted.

Geralt rolled his eyes. “Bloody bards, never win.”

Jaskier grinned and pulled his boyfriend into a kiss, cupping Geralt’s face in his hands. “Au contraire, my love, I think you win every single day.”

“So modest,” the witcher grumbled against his lips, rubbing their noses together.

“You love me,” he purred.

“Hmm.”

Jaskier giggled and kissed Geralt again, lazily, pouring all his love into the kiss, but he blasted stomach rumbled again before the kiss could get anywhere. He whined as he pressed his forehead against Geralt’s. The witcher laughed, stroking a thumb along his cheek. “Let’s go find the others,” Geralt suggested.

“Hmm,” Jaskier replied, still pouting then with a heavy sighed he pushed Geralt away. “fine, spoilsport. Just let me get dressed first.”

Both Eskel and Vesemir were finished with their food by the time Geralt and Jaskier made it downstairs. Jaskier was wrapped up in thick wool lined clothes, a vibrant turquoise compared to Geralt’s dark navy blue ones. It wasn’t as thick as the fur he could have but he really did want to say hello to his family properly. He’d not seen Vesemir since last winter and they’d only run into Eskel once on the path.

“Greetings,” he waved at the two witchers “sorry we’re late.”

“He fell asleep again.”

“Well I’m sorry! You’re the one that lost Roach in a game of Gwent. It’s not my fault we had to fly all the way here.”

Geralt’s growled at the reminder. He’d been so sure that he could beat the arsehole but the bastard had cheated and they’d practically been run out of town, leaving Roach behind. Eskel gave a full bellied laugh, his tankard of ale crashing onto the table. “I wondered what had happened to her, it was a little soon to be replacing her.”

“She’s not dead,” Geralt grumbled, shooting daggers at Jaskier.

“We’ll find you a new horse in the spring, dearest of hearts,” he cooed, fluttering his eyelashes at his lover in attempt to soothe his anger.

“Not the point.”

“Oh ho ho!” Jaskier laughed, pulling his plate of food towards him. It was venison, of course, with thick gravy and roasted vegetables. On the side was a freshly baked roll, now a cold sadly but he really had needed to rest so he wasn’t too upset. “Grumpy witcher.”

Geralt growled again, which only made Jaskier laugh and this time Eskel and Vesemir joined in. Jaskier reached across the table to poked Geralt on the nose. “You know you don’t scare me, love.”

“Hmm.”

The dining hall echoed with the laughter of witchers, and for a brief moment Jaskier could imagine what Kaer Morhen had been like before the siege; full of witchers, brothers in arms, loyal friends and family. It made his heart ache. As much as he adored his pack, they didn’t deserve the pain of losing so many. Contrary to popular belief, these wonderfully kind beings were not meant to be alone.

He gazed around at his family, a pang of regret that Lambert and Aiden were not with them for the winter, and smiled fondly. He took Geralt’s hand under the table. The witcher raised an eyebrow at him but he shook his head. There were no words to describe this feeling, the warmth in his chest for finding the place that he belonged, the bitter pain of yearning. So many different and conflicting emotions in one single moment. How could he possibly find the words that could encompass all of that? He settled for holding Geralt’s hand under the table as they ate, joking and laughing with their family as if they’d never been away.

_____

#the witcher #geraskier #kaer morhen #shapeshifter!jaskier #shifter!jaskier #shifter au #wolfie's witcher writing

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abluescarfonwaston · 4 years

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Shapeshifter Au -4

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Inspired by @spielzeugkaiser art here

So. Geralt knew.

He didn’t know how long Geralt had known for. Didn’t particularly want to know.

Had he just worked it out from his scent as a bear? Had he recognized the lute that was smashed on Filavandrel’s floor? Had he used his Witcher senses to figure it out when he was a lark with a broken wing sleeping in his saddlebag? Was it some little tick that had given him away of there months together?

He didn’t want to know.

He woke up the morning after the incident and promptly shifted into his human form. Packed up his part of camp and waited.

Waited for the questions, for the false promises, for the placating words.

‘I wont tell’ ‘How does it work?’ ‘You’re still Jaskier’

Geralt groaned, sitting up slowly. Blinking sleep from his bleary eyes that rare way he did when he felt safe upon waking. Found him across the burnt out fire.

He tensed.

Geralt nodded and slowly set about disassembling camp.

The world skewed slightly to the left as they set off.

He waited for Geralt to snap at him to ‘just turn into something Roach could carry’ when he complained about his feet hurting too much.

Waited for Geralt to tell him to ‘shrink into something more manageable’ when the bed at the inn was too small for both of them to reasonably share.

Waited for Geralt to request he turn into something useful- to help track down a monster or carry his weight or or or-

It was easy to not shift. He went weeks without shifting as he waited. Waited for Geralt to make some attempt to be reassuring about how he ‘knew’ what Jaskier was or some request that made it clear Geralt thought he was some party trick or. Or something.

And still Geralt was silent on the matter.

It was annoying. It was so damn annoying.

That’s all it real was. He was annoyed. Annoyed that the song he’d worked on for two weeks had gotten a tepid reaction and that his chemise kept static sticking to his arms and it was hot and the bar was loud and and and-

And he wasn’t entirely sure why he was yelling at Geralt but he was and Geralt didn’t even have the decency to look affected by it. Just said his name warningly. And sure maybe he’d be embarrassed about acting like a tantruming toddler later but he wanted to hiss and scratch and draw maybe just a little fucking blood. So that maybe- fucking maybe- someone would understand just how pissed he was.

For the first time in weeks he wanted to shift. Shift into the angry tomcat he felt like. Small and angry in a world that was so much bigger and more dangerous than him but that still had claws. Could still yowled and scratch and make bleed because he might have been small but that didn’t mean he was helpless.

But he couldn’t. Because they were in a bar and everyone was staring at him or pointedly not staring at him and Geralt was throwing him over his shoulder and hauling him to their room. His fingers digging into Geralt’s shirt as he struggled to keep them from becoming claws ripping little pinholes into the fabric. He couldn’t shift because there were people and he was still yelling because he was still so fucking angry-

The door slammed closed behind them and Geralt shifted him so he was holding him up by the armpits and at least he had the decency to look a little irritated but he didn’t want to be held so he shoved a hand at Geralt’s face to push him away and-

And the shape collapsed under him.

He shoved his orange paw against Geralt’s face and lashed his tail and hissed all the same.

Orange. Most of his forms were brown. Because brown was the color of his hair and he liked his hair. But someone told him once that all orange cats were male and whether or not that was true he liked that. Liked that when people saw this form they’d know he was a boy.

Sometimes that felt important. Because most people couldn’t tell what gender most animals were and would just pick one for him. Usually it didn’t matter because he didn’t care but sometimes he did and he liked that maybe his gorgeous long orange fur made that more obvious.

But now Geralt wasn’t even looking irritated anymore! Even with his paw unsheathing claws threateningly against the stubbled skin of his cheek.

No he looked surprised and then it melted into a disgustingly soft smile. Swear to gods If Geralt tried to pet him right now-

Geralt glanced down at his tail, lashing back and forth without pause.

“Ah.” He was swiftly deposited on the bed, Geralt settling back on the floor. “The bar was loud wasn’t it.”

Well he didn’t know what that had to do with anything but Geralt just sat across from him, staring at the wall above his head. Not attempting eye contact.

That helped. He needed to watch Geralt but eye contact would have been too much for him to handle right now with every too loud noise from the bar still scraping at his skull.

Slowly his tail settled behind him and he let his eyes sink close. Safe in the knowledge Geralt wasn’t going to do anything.

He’d explained cat body language to Geralt several months back. Because Geralt had explained (heartbrokenly complained really) that cats didn’t like him. Because he was a ‘mutant’ and they knew it.

Which was complete hogwash.

They didn’t like him because he was a big unfamiliar person approaching feral cats who were better acquainted with the toe of a shoe to the belly then the gentle curl of fingers under their chin. Because he tried to approach them like dogs and didn’t have the time to win over anything but the cuddliest of cuddle slut and there just weren’t that many of those around.

Lucky for Geralt he was a proud member of the cuddle slut kitty brigade. After he’d concluded his lessons on how tail lashing was not like tail wagging on dogs- it meant they were highly stimulated and which could easily pass into Overstimulated- and how to introduce himself and all the best places to pet he’d taken his leave of Geralt for the evening.

Approached him as the cuddly fluffy orange cat he was within the hour. Making his home on Geralts lap and purring as loud as he could demanding all the cuddles he’d been denied in his human form.

That. That might have been when Geralt figured out what he was now that he thought about it.

He still wasn’t sure he wanted to know what had given him away. Especially if he couldn’t change it- like his scent. Or if he could- because then he’d have to. To stay safe.

He jumped off the bed and head-butt Geralt’s hands until Geralt started petting him. Laid down across his lap as Geralt gently covered himself in his fur with each soft stroke.

He should look into a white form. So he could really mess up Geralt’s all black color scheme.

Geralt’s hands eventually stilled and he begrudgingly shifted up. Tucking his head into Geralt’s neck he mumbled, “Shouldn’t have yelled at you.”

“Seemed like a bit of an overreaction to me eating the last mushroom.”

“You know those are my favorite.”

Geralt snorted and ran a hand through his brown hair. “It was my plate.”

“I have no idea what your point is.”

“Right.” He nuzzled into Geralt’s neck. He couldn’t really smell how they mixed together as a human but the shapes that could always found comfort in it. “You.” He paused. “Transformed again.”

His heartrate picked up and his gut start churning. He didn’t want to have this conversation. Ever really. He’d never had to and he didn’t know where to start. Didn’t want Geralt to say something that would make him angry or sad or break his heart. He just wanted to be a human for Geralt. Simple and easy and human.

Not that he was simple or easy. Or human. Probably.

Whatever he was it probably wasn’t human. Not really. But he wanted to be. For Geralt.

Geralt’s other hand came up and squeezed lightly around the long healed bone.

“I wont ask.” Geralt said as Jaskier swallowed a sob. “But I’ll help. If you want.”

“It’s not a curse.”

Geralt hummed acknowledgement.

“It’s just me. It’s always just me. Okay?”

Geralt made a noise like he maybe understood. A little. But not much.

“I can.” It felt weird to say it out loud. “Shift into anything so long as it’s still me.”

“Anything?” He saw the smirk and pointed stare he was making at the chair.

He smacked his shoulder. “If it’s me.”

He was living. Living and breathing and moving and thinking. How was he supposed to be something that wasn’t?

“Not like a Doppler then.”

“Would have thought the bear shape rather gave that away.” Dopplers could become anyone- but were restricted by mass. He wasn’t. Sure he shifted down or up in steps normally but that was because it was easier. Because feelings normally built in size instead of appearing all at once.

Geralt conceded the point with a nod. “Does-“ He stopped.

When it became clear Geralt wasn’t just collecting his thoughts he nudged him. “Ask.”

“Does it hurt?” Geralt wasn’t looking at him and his face was flat but he could feel the tension under his hands.

“Nope!” He reassured. Geralt tensed further.

“In the woods-” He started.

“Those were extenuating circumstances! I’m sure it looked terribly grisly from your perspective but I just couldn’t find a form that fit because.” He stopped.

“Because you were scared.” He nodded into Geralt’s neck. “Of me.”

He stopped nodding.

“Everything’s not about you Geralt.” He pulled back enough to glare at him. Geralt returned it. “It’s Not. Sure I was scared of you but I wasn’t scared of you. I know you wouldn’t lock me up and sell me to a circus to turn tricks or a mage for experiments or anything. I know that. There’s just a difference between knowing and knowing. Okay?”

Geralt studied him before slowly nodding. He tucked his head back into Geralt’s neck.

He wanted to stay here. Here with Geralt. It pulled a question from his gut that he didn’t want to ask- that filled him with fear even as it spilled from his tongue.

“What do you want me to be?”

Geralt’s brow furrowed and he turned his head to the bard.

“Come now you must have a preference.” A voice that was cocky and sure prodded. A voice that was his but was not his. “A shape you’d prefer me to be?”

His face turned and he felt distantly as his eyes glittered and a smile blazed on his lips. Feeling terribly out of control as he begged his heart to race. To respond. To fight whatever power directed his body without his command.

As Geralt’s lips began to form words he could feel the magic preparing to shape him. Bind him in that form. Lock him without shackle or key into whatever Geralt wanted him to be.

“What would it matter?” Geralt said, face relaxing into a small smile and raising a brow. “It would still always be you.”

He sank into Geralt’s shoulder as the compulsion faded, taking with it his fear. He didn’t know what that was and he didn’t particularly like it but- “It would be.” He agreed.

It would always be him.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #jaskier #shapeshifter au #today Geralt gets to pet a kitty #The kitty is Jaskier of course but still #also establishing the rules if your into that like i am #geralts a bit softy and that is all #writing

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jaskiersvalley · 4 years

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Hello! I love your work. Would you ever consider writing about a shapeshifter! Jaskier? 🙇‍♀️

While I already have the shifter AU going, this ask has prompted a very different idea. I have nothing to say for myself and I am so very sorry in advance. This is not what anybody could have possibly asked for but it’s what has happened so...enjoy?

The problem with giving Geralt the one blessing he asked for was that Jaskier missed him. And, damn his heart, Jaskier still cared for Geralt, knew that eventually things would settle between them. It might take Geralt a few years, maybe a couple of decades, he was emotionally dense, but they would travel together again. That didn’t mean Jaskier didn’t want to at least keep tabs on him. So he travelled adjacent to Geralt, far enough away to hear of him but not enough to get underfoot or encounter Geralt. Or so he thought.

As far as performances went, Jaskier had been quite pleased with the evening. He had a tidy sum of coin in his pouch, lute slung on his back and making his way to the inn where he was told he could request a room. The murmurings got to Jaskier before anything else and he was grateful. A witcher was in town. A certain white haired, grumpy as fuck witcher. It would have been generous to say Jaskier panicked. No, he freaked out. Not wanting to encounter Geralt just yet but also missing him somewhat fierce, Jaskier did the only thing that made sense. He was near the stables, likely where Geralt would leave Roach. Who was the next best thing and would understand, Jaskier had chats with her before while Geralt was off fighting some monster or other. So, in a fit of worry, Jaskier did the only thing that made sense. He ran into the stables, found an empty stall and shifted. No doubt Roach would be put in the stall next to him and then they could catch up. She had some quite pithy commentary sometimes, especially about Geralt’s choices.

Only, there was no Roach, no Geralt but the stable-hand had come in and Jaskier was stuck. Especially when it was noted that he was there without any explanation. Words spread quickly about the horse just left in the stable without pay or anything else. Nobody seemed to know where he had come from, and now there were more and more people coming by to look at him and Jaskier couldn’t shift back. It was getting awkward.

“I heard there was a horse without an owner,” an all too familiar voice rumbled and the couple of people eyeing Jaskier up parted. Geralt strode forward and looked over Jaskier with a critical eye, lifting his legs to inspect him. “If nobody comes for him in the morning, I’ll take him. 500 oren.”

Just like that Jaskier was sold to Geralt. Things couldn’t get more awkward.

They absolutely did get more awkward. In the morning, nobody had come forward to claim Jaskier so Geralt handed over a pouch of coin and unbuckled a saddle and other riding bits and bobs from his pack. Too stunned to resist, Jaskier let himself be equipped with it all and he was led out. Geralt swung up on his back and they started their way out of town. All Jaskier could think was that Geralt was really sodding heavy.

Nothing was said until it was dusk, Jaskier was grumbling about Geralt and his lazy ass refusing to walk. They had found a nice little clearing and Geralt tied Jaskier to a tree. The indignity of it all had Jaskier tossing his head, smacking Geralt with his mane.

“Alright Roach, alright,” Geralt murmured. Which. Wait. What?! Jaskier was most definitely not Roach. He needed to know what happened to Roach, his dear girl couldn’t have met an unfortunate end. However, there was no way he could ask without revealing his identity to Geralt and that would only lead to more arguments.

What Jaskier didn’t anticipate was for Geralt to start talking while his dinner cooked over the small fire.

“You’ll get used to the quiet, don’t worry.” An ironic thing to say given that Geralt was breaking the silence. “There was a time it wasn’t like this.” If Jaskier wasn’t mistaken, there was a fond smile on Geralt’s lips. “There was lute music, half hummed lyrics, complaining, so much complaining.”

Suddenly, Jaskier didn’t want to listen anymore. He didn’t want to hear Geralt besmirch his good name to even his horse. Who was, unfortunately, not a horse but the very person Geralt was reminiscing about.

“You would have probably liked him,” Geralt continued, unaware of Jaskier’s conundrum. “Jaskier always loved Roach, he would have probably adored you. Tried to spoil you. He made life better for everyone.”

Oh no. Grealt was not doing this. Jaskier snorted and stomped to try and put an end to it all.

“Definitely would have liked you,” Geralt laughed bitterly. “He was a bit of a dramatic idiot too. I’d heard he was in the town I found you. But by the time I got there, he had disappeared. Wasn’t at the inn he was told he’d have a room at. Maybe he heard I was in the area and ran.” This time, Geralt actually sounded tired and sad. “I can’t really blame him. It’s not like he knows I want to apologise. I wasn’t nice to him.”

Jaskier blew air out through his nostrils heavily and Geralt turned to look at him with a wry uptick of his lips. “Thanks, for judging me but not hating me for it. I do enough of that by myself.”

After that, Jaskier really couldn’t shift and reveal his true nature. This wouldn’t have happened if he had just been honest with Geralt from the start, shown him his true nature. But no, Jaskier had wanted to play human and now he was paying the price. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. And fuck again.

The charade went on for three days. Jaskier suffered Geralt on his back in exchange for being talked at. Surprisingly, Geralt really liked to talk to his horse. Mostly it was about hunts of the past, more detailed than he had ever shared with Jaskier in his human form. The topic of Jaskier himself came up more than once, Geralt grumbling about hearing snatches of his songs being murdered by other bards. Finally, the topic of old Roach came up too and Jaskier neighed in laughter. Winter had been cold in Kaer Morhen, vicious and the stable hadn’t held up as well as the witchers had assumed. Roach made more than close friends with Scorpion when the wall separating their stalls crumbled away. So now, she was up in Kaer Morhen, keeping Vesemir company and due to drop a foal a little before winter.

In those three days, Jaskier also waited patiently while Geralt stumbled across a nest of drowners, they outran a warg pack and took out a contract on a kikimora. Nothing Jaskier hadn’t really seen before. He even enjoyed it a little, confident that in his horse form he could run to safety.

Everything unravelled when Geralt returned from the kikimora hunt, a hewn off head dangling from his hand. He approached Jaskier and that was when Jaskier realised what was about to happen. There was no way on earth Geralt was going to tie a dripping, disgusting monster part to Jaskier and sully his beautiful fur.

“Oh no you don’t!” Jaskier growled, shifting into human form and backing away from Geralt. “That is not going anywhere near me.”

Fuck.

They stared at each other, Geralt blinking and frowning.

“I thought I could smell you,” he said dumbly in the end. Which. Okay. Weird as hell to open with that over everything else. But Jaskier could play the game.

“Nice to see you too, Geralt.”

“That too.” Obviously, Geralt had not changed a single bit. Which Jaskier could have deducted without the latest exchange. “If I use a throw to cover you, will you take the kikimora head back to the village? It’s a long way to carry.”

Well then. Jaskier rolled his eyes. It seemed they were not going to have the conversation in that moment. Relenting, he shifted back into horse form and trod on Geralt’s toes in warning.

“You’ve listened to me for the last three days. I’m not repeating myself,” Geralt grumbled. However, he did loop his arms around Jaskier’s neck in a quick hug. Maybe he did find non-human forms easier to interact with. It made Jaskier wonder whether something made Geralt averse to humanity. Who was he kidding? Being a witcher was reason enough, humans treated him like shit. Bumping his head against Geralt’s chest in reply, he started walking, Geralt falling into place beside him.

“Thank you.” The words were quiet but no less heartfelt. “For coming back to me.”

Jaskier found he was rather glad himself.

#geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #the witcher #shifter jaskier au #tldr: jaskier is a shifter and accidentally becomes the next roach

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artistsfuneral · 4 years

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shapeshifter AU: Jaskier gets attacked by Geralt

That was not good.

That was reall, really not good!

Terrified Jaskier took a step back and gulped down the acid in his mouth. If the situation would not have been so dangerous for him, it could have been hilarious. Alas the humuongously large wolf that stared down at him was not funny, considering that Jaskier was sure he would end up as dinner. In his hysteria he cracked a smile that was commented by such a loud snarl that it dropped right out of his face again.

Ah yes, right. Showing teeth in front of an angry wolf was not the best idea. Especially not if said wolf was bigger than a draft horse, and probably twice as muscular.

Tears prickled in Jaskier's eyes as he slowly sank down on his knees, trying to remember everything he had learned about encountering wolves on the path. No loud noises, no fast movement, make yourself small, sit on the ground to steady yourself, no eye contact, just let them do their thing and they should go away.

Yeah, right... there was only a single problem; the giant canine in front of him was not a normal wolf.

It was Geralt.

Geralt had shifted into his secondary form. Witchers didn't shift outside of their keeps. Never. Never ever! Geralt had explained it to Jaskier himself after the bard had annoyed him for hours, wanting to know what Geralt looked like in his shifted form.

While normal people like Jaskier needed to shift regularly to keep sane and balanced, Witchers only ever shifted in winter, when they were save with their own. The mutations did not only affect their human form, but also their secondary - animalistic - form, leaving them feral and dangerous to anyone but their own pack.

And frankly, Jaskier was not part of Geralt's pack. So he had, by all means, the right to be absolutely scared shitless, thank you very much!

He couldn't even hold back the high whimper that escaped him as the giant snout full of razor sharp fangs got closer and closer, until it was not even an arm’s lenght away from his face.

Jaskier believed himself to be a brave man. He had seen many monsters during the years he had followed Geralt on the path and yet, he still shut his eyes tightly in fear of the piercing amber eyes that seemed to stare right through his very soul.

The wolf - Geralt - never stopped growling, not even as he rubbed his cheek along Jaskier's shoulder, not even as he burried his giant nose in the bard's hair and scented it.

Jaskier - who's secondary form was a beautifully bred hunting dog - knew what fear smelled like for a canine and was pretty sure he completely reeked of it. It was a hideous smell.

“Being eaten by your best friend/lover,“ was not really how he had imagined his death, but who would even have thought of a possibility like this? Most of the time, Shifters were still aware of their selves, even after spending extraordinary long times in their secondary form. Though, Geralt had used the word “feral“ and feral was never good when it came to giant-bard-eating-witcher-wolves, Jaskier was sure about that.

His stomach rolled again in fear and the burning of his eyes turned into actual tears that ran down his cheeks, leaving wet lines behind. A breathless hiccup escaped him and he clutched both of his hands over his mouth, body shaking, when he suddenly heard a loud whine.

It sounded so concerning that Jaskier actually forgot his fear for a second and opened his eyes without realizing it.

The giant wolf was lying flat on his stomach, head between his front paws and pressed to the ground. The big amber eyes were looking at Jaskier with what he would normally have called “puppy dog eyes“. Slowly the bard robbed further away from the wolf. He didn't follow. Just looked at Jaskier with those sad ambers and stayed motionless on the ground.

It took Jaskier a few moments to catch his breath before he whispered under tears, “Geralt?“

The wolf's ears perked up.

“C- Can you... Do you know who I am?“

He lifted his head and stared at Jaskier.

“I- I'll take that as a yes. You don't want to eat me, do you?“

Maybe it was stupid to ask, but Jaskier couldn't help himself and needed the reassurance. Geralt let out such a pitifully whine that it broke the bard's heart into pieces.

“Yes, yes, sorry. That was stupid of me to ask, but you're...,“ he vaguely gestured at Geralt, “big. Really big, I might say. You're way bigger than Roach, or even Pegasus!“ Geralt's head fell down on the ground again, as he let out another whine. It seened as if he wanted to apologize for being this large. A thought, that seemed ridiculous to Jaskier, but so was the whole situation.

“You will stay like this for a while, won't you?“, Jaskier asked, whiping away the last of his tears. The wolf huffed in affirmation, his flews puffing a few times.

Jaskier took his time regaining his conposure. Living as a travelling bard he had encountered many dangerous situations over the years and not too few had to do with other Shifters, but somehow the thought of being attacked by Geralt had been his worst experience yet.

The way Geralt looked at him from across the space, he knew as much.

Chest still pumping too fast, Jaskier sat up and looked at the wolf. Really looked at him.

Geralt was beautiful.

Jaskier came from a well-bred family, where the mates matched their form to the Pankratz' dog breed through a magical ritual to preserve their genetics. In his secondary form, Jaskier looked not much different - if not exactely the same - as his brothers and sisters. An elegant hunting dog with red-brown fur, that varied in lenght, long ears and even longer, slim legs. He looked a lot like a generic Setter.

Geralt though, Geralt looked wild. His fur was thick, white with gray and light brown markings, his pointed ears were wide and one missed its tips. Apart from the fact that he was huge and muscular, he also had strong legs with large paws and a fluffy tail.

If he would have been any other person, Jaskier probably would have been jealous, but this was Geralt, so the only thing Jaskier was able to do was to stare in awe of his beauty. “The white wolf“. Jaskier had hoped for so long to see how Geralt looked shifted and now he was left completely speechless.

“Can I touch you?“

The question surprised both of them. A moment passed and Geralt didn't indicate any displeasure at the thought, so Jaskier carefully stood up and walked over to where the Witcher was lying. His still shaking hand softly pressed against the bridge of Geralt's nose and made them both shudder. “So pretty,“ Jaskier whispered and watched as the wolf closed his eyes and leaned into the touch.

Careful at first, but quickly a lot bolder, Jaskier started petting Geralt. He began with his head, muzzled the wolf's cheeks, then played with his ears, combing his hands through the thick fur of the neck and the hackle and ended up stroking along his ribs. Not only was he pretty, but he was soft.

In the end Geralt ended up on his side, Jaskier draped over him, slowly being raised up and down by the Witcher's few, but deep, breaths. The bard was about to fall asleep when he felt the change of magic around him, indicating that Geralt was shifting. Apparently it had taken a lot less time for Geralt to feel stable again, than Jaskier had asumed and part of him wondered if his petting session had anything to do with it.

Quickly Jaskier found himself draped not over a giant wolf, but a very big Witcher instead. “Geralt!“

Excited he wrapped his arms around the man and pulled him into a hug. Then strong arms tied themselves around Jaskier's middle and he was nearly crushed in the embrace.

“Jaskier, Jaskier! Melitele, I am so sorry, are you alright? Did I hurt you? Talk to me!“ Clearly overwhelmed by the sudden shift (that clearly should not have happened in the first place) Geralt smelled of worry and confusion.

Pushing himself back, Jaskier gently took Geralt's face in his hands and smiled softly, “I am alright my love, you have been nothing but kind to me.“

“But you smell like-“

“I know. I was scared, but I promise you didn't hurt me. Oh Geralt you are so pretty! If I had only known what you looked like before, oh, the songs I could have written already!“

Jaskier started to ramble in awe about the Witcher's form, while all Geralt could do was stare at him. It had been an accident. The wolf had been clawing at his insides for way too long, he had wanted - actually wanted - to meet Jaskier. The past few days the feeling had become too much to handle and Geralt had been about to part ways with Jaskier, when he suddenly had felt the pull to shift.

Trying to connect with his secondary form now, he found it peacefully existing inside of him. The wolf had taken care of the one thing Geralt had never been brave enough to do, the one thing that kept him from-

“Be my mate, Jaskier.“

“Huh?“

“Be my mate. Come with me to Kaer Morhen, join our pack.“

Jaskier gasped at him open mouthed.

“Our secondary forms are mutated. They are monsters, they don't trust anyone that isn't pack. The wolf must have noticed it too, there is only one reason for you to still be here, Jaskier. We are-“

“Fated Mates,“ Jaskier interrupted him, eyes still wide in shock, fingers loosly sitting on Geralt's shoulders.

“Yes.“

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whereplotbunniesgotodie · 3 years

Text

Perfume and Iron

Pairing: GeraltxJaskier

Warning: mentions of blood and near death

Not a happy ending but not sad either, so I'd say this is an ambiguous melancholy ending.

Summary: When Jaskier sees Geralt in danger, even a year after they parted, he throws himself in to save him. When he find out he wasn't killed like he fully expected, he and Geralt talk but sometimes things don't end the way we all want them to, do they?

He knew better. Of course he knew better! Numerous decades will beat understanding into you whether you want it to or not, really. Of course knowing better doesn't mean following through with that knowledge. Knowing better doesn't mean you'll sit back and let your best friend die just because he has an overwhelming death wish and you haven't seen him in over a year.

Surprisingly, as far as Jaskier was concerned, it hadn't hurt like he'd expected it too. Granted, it did feel like a hot knife was being perpetually stabbed into his stomach and then twisted, but that wasn't the all consuming agony he, quite frankly, expected of a monster's poisoned claw slicing across his abdomen.

Geralt was looking at him with eyes wide in shock,or at least he assumed that's the look the Witcher wore, his pitch black eyes hampering his ability to read the expression. The creature lay slain at his feet, blood joining Geralt's in a somber pool. His hand sat limp at his side, his sword dragging in the dirt. His other hand clutched at a bleeding gash taking up his entire side, a vain attempt to slow it.

Huh, wasn't that funny? Geralt never, ever looked shocked. Maybe that had changed in the year since they'd seen each other, since that horrible day on the mountain. Maybe Geralt was willing to admit he had emotions?

Jaskier frowned when Geralt's form began to swim as his gaze went hazy. He tried to step towards the other, to clear his vision, but felt his legs give out beneath him and he gasped as suddenly he found himself on the ground.

"Jaskier!"

Funny, that didn't sound like Geralt, too distraught to be the Witcher.

He tried to lift his head, to see what had suddenly taken Geralt's form but found even that was too much. Wouldn't that just be poetic? Jaskier, the White wolf's bard, died protecting a shapeshifter. He'd have laughed if he felt he could.

Strangely, he realized it no longer felt like he was being repeatedly stabbed, in fact, it didn't feel like anything. He almost swore he was floating,flying even, but that was silly, he couldn't fly!

"Jaskier! Look at me you damn idiot!" oh… Geralt but not Geralt again. This time the tone bordered somewhere between fear and hysteria and the idea that Geralt would feel either of those about Jaskier himself was just ridiculous.

Jaskier found himself gently rolled onto his back, or at least that's what he had to assume. The hazy brown that had filled his vision was now a hazy blue. There was a shadow blocking out some of the blue and he wanted to reach up and touch it. Maybe that would show him what had taken on the form of his old friend, he did have a ring on for just such a reveal. Bought after they parted as Geralt's warnings about creatures still echoed in his head.

"Jaskier, you have to focus on me."

Hands cupped his cheeks, pulling his attention to the shadowed figure. Well, not so shadowed anymore, just blurry; like looking through water.

"Where'd Geralt go? What are you?"

"Where did…? Jaskier it's me. I'm right here?"

Jaskier frowned, narrowing his eyes in an attempt to focus them. Geralt not Geralt sounded so confused, more proof he wasn't Geralt.

"No. No, see, I saw you… I saw you and thought Geralt was going to be hit by the monster again. You… Geralt… you wouldn't have been alright after another hit!"

"And you stupidly got in the way!"

"But Geralt wouldn't be upset by that! And you… you sound like you're upset. Geralt… Well, see, Geralt said his best blessing would be… would be…" that was odd, he knew what he wanted to say but the words just wouldn't slip past his tongue. In fact it felt like his mouth was filling with something… Water? He had to force himself to speak through the full feeling in his mouth. "Would be if I was off his hands…"

Finally! That's What he wanted to say! "I couldn't let him die! Of course… I thought you were him."

"I am hi- Jaskier it is me."

"You can't be because… Geralt hates me!" Jaskier said. Goddess, why didn't not Geralt understand?

"I don't… hate.." Geralt not Geralt stumbled over his words in a bizzare show of emotion. "I don't hate you Jaskier."

Jaskier let out a laugh, wet, strained and humorless. He didn't think he could laugh anymore so that was good. He could feel the… Whatever it was in his mouth, running down his chin, and he wanted so badly to reach and wipe it away, but didn't have the strength.

"Of course you don't. But he does."

Not Geralt didn't respond, too busy turning his attention to Jaskier's abdomen. Not Geralt moved and suddenly Jaskiers entire upper body was a lot cooler than it had been before… Oh, not Geralt had ripped his doublet and chemise off. Well damn, he'd really like this lavender one, it complimented his skin tone.

"Hey…" he said, a weak attempt at berating Not Geralt.

"Shut up Jaskier!"

Oh… well that sounded like Geralt. Maybe it was…? Jaskier tried to shake the thought from his head. He knew this wasn't his old friend but as long as they kept the form maybe he could pretend?

The pressure on his stomach disappeared for a moment and Jaskier frowned. No.. No! He didn't want to be alone when he died! Where did not Geralt go?

Something cool was pressed to his lips and a thick, vaguely flowery tasting liquid invaded his mouth, overpowering the wet, full feeling. He swallowed instinctively and couldn't help but make a face at the flavor of perfume and iron. The cool vial was quickly pulled away and Jaskier tried to squint and see what not Geralt was doing.

A sudden burning pain enveloped him, stemming from the slash across his abdomen, and he couldn't help but scream. It was as if the creature had slashed through him again, with claws recently dipped in flames. He could feel his back arch as if to get away from the pain but not Geralt pressed his hands to the slash and pushed Jaskier back to lay flat.

Jaskier managed to reach up and scratch at not Geralt's arm. He wanted it to stop! What was happening? The pain was increasing and not Geralt was holding him down and… And he was hot, far too hot.

"It's a potion! It's safe for you but you have to stop thrashing!" Not Geralt snarled at him.

"Hurts!" Jaskier managed as the pain intensified. "Stop!" He had to get away, to get the pain to stop!

"Jaskier, enough!" Not Geralt snapped and used more pressure to press Jaskier once again to the ground. There was pain in his voice, or maybe Jaskier imagined the strained tremor he heard.

It was getting dark again and Jaskier felt the pain begin to fade into the background, his ears filling with a rushing buzz that drowned out everything around him. Once again he couldn't focus. He let himself fall limp and closed his eyes, he couldn't see anyway.

When he opened his eyes, which was surprising in it's own right, it was to the dim light of a fire a few feet away. Right after his eyes opened, he heard rustling to his right and suddenly he could make out a shadowed shape above him.

"Jaskier…"

Oh… Not Geralt was still here, still sounding just this side of wrong, just a little too emotional. Jaskier closed his eyes tightly, hands clenching at his side.

"Don't you dare pass out on me again."

That… sounded much more like Geralt usually did. That sounded angry and exasperated and… oh so familiar. "Worked too damn hard to keep you alive."

Jaskier sighed and kept his eyes closed. This time the voice was a bit calmer, closer to worried than angry.

"Jaskier? Come on, don't pass out again…"

There was a hand running through his hair, brushing the sweat slicked strands back and out of his face.

“Jaskier?”

Jaskier opened his eyes again, looking straight into worried amber.

"There you are." Not Geralt said as he sat back and just out of Jaskier's line of sight. Before he could question it, not Geralt gently helped him sit up, and leaned the bard against his chest to anchor him.

"Come on, sit up for me."

Jaskier frowned and struggled weakly. "Alright. You had your fun pretending to be Geralt bu-" he started, turning his upper body as best he could to look at the other.

"Pretending?" Not Geralt cut him off. "Jaskier. I'm not…" he lowered his eyes and must have caught the glint of Jaskier's ring because without another word he took the bard's wrist in his hand and lifted it to his cheek. The ring pressed into his skin and there was no burning, no anything. "See?"

"Geralt…" Jaskier breathed quietly.

The witcher himself nodded, despite the fact it wasn't a question in Jaskier's tone. He curled himself around the other and Jaskier had the distinct sense that the witcher was unaware of doing so.

"Geralt… I hate to be the one to say this especially right now, but… why are you here?"

Geralt tensed and leaned away so quickly, a rush of breeze from the movement sent a shiver down Jaskier's back.

"What do you mean?" Geralt asked. "You were going to die an-"

Jaskier cut him off. "I was, yes. If you do remember about the last time we parted… Well, honestly Geralt it seemed like… I mean," he looked away, "Isn't that what you asked for?" He couldn't help the hitch in his voice or breath when he spoke. "Back then, you said…"

"I know what I said!" Geralt hissed, pained and quiet. "I know what I said and how horrible it was!" Geralt looked away, expression surprisingly open.

Jaskier glanced back, brows pinched in question.

"I met up with Yenn about three months after we parted. She heard what I had said to you and hit me so hard I was sure she intended to kill me." Geralt explained quietly. "She might have been trying to actually…" he added as an afterthought. "Said I was the stupidest man she'd ever seen, and that was saying something. Said I'd realize what I lost when it was gone and she'd not feel any sympathy for me."

Jaskier was quiet, lowering his gaze to stare unseeing at the fire in front of them. "I was sure you didn't want to see me again." He finally whispered. "And even so I was prepared to die for you…"

Geralt was quiet as well for a few moments, long enough that Jaskier had the unusual thought that the witcher had gone mute, but the other eventually spoke

"You were prep-…Why? I was terrible to you."

"I've always been reckless. You know that."

Geralt frowned and Jaskier glanced away again.

"I've never known you to have a death wish."

"You haven't known me for a while."

"Jaskier…"

The bard flinched slightly at the tone, quietly resigned and sad. "I know…" he replied.

"I missed you…" Geralt let his sudden declaration hang in the air, Jaskier could feel him tense when the words left his mouth.

"What…?"

"After Yenn tried to beat sense into me, I realized she was right. I pushed you away, lost you, and I regretted it. I wanted to find you but I didn't think you'd want to see me again."

Jaskier was quiet, listening to the other with a kind of detached melancholy. How long had he waited for the other to say these things? How long had he longed for Geralt to see him, want him, miss him? He'd willingly risked his life for the other not twenty four hours before and yet… Why wasn't he ecstatic? Why wasn't he happier?

When he didn't reply Geralt let out a long breath. "Is it too late to try again?"

Jaskier lowered his eyes, the blue unfocused and glassy as he stared unseeing at the ground.

"I... don't know."

#angst #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #my writing

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alovesongshewrote · 4 years

Text

Douxtober Day 6: A Lot Happens in a Short Amount of Time | Hisirdoux Casperan

Plot: You remember the child surprise from the Witcher? yeah, this was it’s distant cousin, the surprise child. (No one is pregnant, I promise)

Word Count: 2,442

Warnings: Children (and i ignore how both kids and adoption work)

A/N: Oh look, a Douxtober fic! no whump here! And it’s technically a part of aaty (if you want it to be)

Tag List: @furblrwurblr @einahpetsyarcip @sorrels-scribbling @anxious-stitcher @alive-and-afraid @animedweeb333 @douxiesdamsel @saroski05

Life was a funny thing. Sometimes you got tortured, sometimes you moved in with your boyfriend, his familiar, sometimes your boyfriend died and came back to life trying to save the world, and sometimes, you accidentally adopted a child.

It just be like that occasionally.

And you could explain this! You totally could, 100%. This wasn’t just the two of you plus Archie and technically Zoe shoplifting a kid, there was a lot more to it than that.

It was about a month after all of the Arcane Order nonsense. You and Douxie, your aforementioned boyfriend, had returned to Arcadia. Everything was calm and chill, which was a really nice change from the usual world-ending chaos. However, Arcadia was still Arcadia, and that meant monsters.

You were decent in a fight, Archie could turn into a goddamn dragon, and Douxie had saved the world multiple times, so you took it upon yourselves to defend the town from the things that went bump in the night. Besides, you wanted to give the rest of your troll-hunting friends a break.

This turned out to be a pretty good plan. It kept the town safe, let Archie get some fresh air, and gave you and Douxie time alone. (Remember kids, monster-fighting is a great activity for date night.) Sometimes you dragged Zoe out with you, which she enjoyed more than she let on.

All was well, and then suddenly, kid.

As has been stated, it be like that sometimes. You know the child surprise from the Witcher? Yeah, this was its distant cousin, the surprise child.

You’d been caught in a battle with another friggin shadow mephit or ten, and it wasn’t going super well if you were completely honest. Zoe was fighting on a roof, Douxie was stuck in a tree, Archie was trying to free Douxie from that tree, and you had given up on your usual weapon for a folding chair. It was mildly effective, but not enough to save you. One of the mephits knocked you to the ground, preparing to take a sizable bite of your arm before a blast of purple slapped the bitch away. You got to your knees, looking out into the night to see a frickin eight-year-old, arms outstretched, purple light surrounding their fists.

“Uh, are you guys seeing this?”

Zoe gracefully leapt from the roof while Douxie fell out of the tree he was in.

“The child? Yep.”

“Ow.”

You winced, walking over to help your boyfriend to his feet, “Ah, you okay, babe?”

He nodded, although his focus was on the kid, who was taking out shadow mephits like a bawse. You would have been confused, but hey, you could fight like that when you were that age. Though that had come from years on the streets fighting for your life, so there was a place for concern.

“Hey, should we be helping them?”

“Yeah, probably,” you said, picking up your folding chair and yeeting yourself into the fray.

With the extra assistance, the mephits went down a little easier. You and your gang made sure to watch out for the sudden child, but they were pretty damn capable. It only took ten minutes for the tide to turn. Douxie opened the portal to limbo, banishing the mephits from the material plane.

You took half a second to be excited before turning to the random frickin kid who just kicked all the ass. Their expression was grim, with no trace of pride. It was kind of a mood, actually.

“Hey, kid! You ok?”

Their attention was yoinked from the pavement to your face, “I’m fine.”

You nodded, cautiously approaching them, “You fought really well. Where’d you learn to do that?”

“Why does it matter?” their tone was biting and angry. Or as biting and angry as a child’s tone could be.

“It doesn’t, I was just curious.”

“Don’t be. It’s fine.” Man, did this kid sound like a younger version of you? or what? It was kind of scary actually.

“Alright, I won’t be,” you raised your hands in surrender, taking a step back.

This ‘fun’ conversation had caught everyone else’s attention. Archie flew around the kid before landing on your shoulder, “They won’t, but I will be. Where are your parents?”

“Don’t have any.”

Oh, mood. For all of you, actually.

“Do you have another guardian?”

“No.”

“Why are you fighting monsters at this hour?”

“Because I feel like it, ok!?”

Archie pulled back a bit, “It’s a school night…”

You gave the familiar a pat on the head while Zoe made her approach, “No, the cat is right, it is a school night.”

“Cat? That’s a dragon!” you smiled a little as the kid finally acted like a kid.

“He’s a shapeshifter, actually,” Douxie said, almost making you jump. You hadn’t realized that he was behind you. Arch made his way off of your shoulders and onto your boyfriend’s.

“A sHAPESHIFTER!?” the kid cried, magic again at the ready.

“No, no, no!” you exclaimed, putting yourself between the kid and the cat, “He’s a friend. I promise.”

“Your words mean nothing to me! I don’t know you! Any of you!”

Ok, that was fair. You sighed and got down to the kid's level, “Ok. My name’s (Y/N). The shapeshifter is called Archie, but that’s not his full name.”

The kid blinked a bit, lowering their hands, “Wh-what’s his full name?”

Archie flew down to the ground beside you, continuing towards the child, “Archibald. Pleased to meet you.”

“It’s… nice to meet you too-?” the kid sounded confused, and they were reminding you of yourself more and more with every second. On the bright side, they dropped their hands completely, magic fading into the night.

“Right, well,” Douxie got on your level, kneeling beside you to meet the kid’s eyes, “I’m Douxie and this is Zoe-”

“‘Sup.”

“What’s your name?”

They hesitated, looking between you and Archie, who was currently sniffing the child.

“My name is Robin.”

You smiled, the ice officially broken, “It’s nice to meet you, Robin.”

You let the kid follow you home. Through a bit of careful chatting, you learned that Robin was about eight, and their parents were wizards when they were alive. After their parents passed, Robin was on their own, running around the country and fending for themself. They reminded you so much of yourself that it hurt. Now there was a child sleeping on your couch, arms thrown around Archie which the familiar didn’t really mind, and you had no idea what to do next.

You were sitting on your counter, a cup of coffee in one hand while the other messed with Douxie’s hair. Zoe was at the kitchen table, lying limply across two chairs while her tea cooled in its mug. Your lovely, lovely wizard boyf was leaning on the counter next to you, pretty relaxed considering the day's events.

“So, what do we do with this child?”

“They might have to stay with us for a while. It doesn’t sound like they have anywhere else to go.”

Zoe laughed a little, trying to keep quiet for Robin’s sake, “You two just straight up adopted a kid. Good luck with that one.”

“Thanks, Zo,” your tone was flat, but you too saw the amusement in this situation, “Thank god I studied medicine, honestly. If I hadn’t we’d be sooo screwed.”

“Well, you know the people in this town,” Douxie moved closer to you, “Nobody tips.”

You nodded your agreement, kissing the top of Douxie’s head.

“We should be careful though. These days, you never know where the next ‘end of the world’ will come from.”

“Eh,” you said, looking at Robin asleep on your couch. They looked so peaceful, and you wondered if you ever looked like that at Robin’s age. They reminded you so much of yourself, so much of what you had once been, “I think it’ll be okay.”

There was a moment of silence as you all lost yourselves in thought.

“Well, I’d love to stay and watch you guys sign the adoption papers, but I have a shift tomorrow, so,” the pink-haired witch jumped up from her chairs and wandered past you guys, “Later nerds.”

“Bye Zo.”

“See you tomorrow.”

You lept off the counter, picking up your mug and Zoe’s and putting them in the sink. Douxie watched you, still leaning on the counter. You moved past him again, and he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest.

“You’re sure we can watch this kid?”

You bit your lip, looking back at the couch before turning back to Douxie, “When I was that age, all I wanted was a home. Somewhere safe where I didn’t have to worry about tomorrow. If we can give that to this kid then-” you cut yourself off and shrugged.

Douxie smiled, placing a hand on your cheek, “I love you so much.”

You leaned into his touch, “Besides, we have Archie, and he took care of you, so…”

You both laughed a little at that, pulling each other closer. His lips met yours in a soft kiss. You pulled apart from the kiss grinning, but something in Douxie’s eyes confused you.

“Babe? You good?”

“I’m better than good, darling. In fact, I-” he cut himself off, looking behind him and around the room before patting himself down, “Oh, fuzzbuckets.”

“Babe? What’s up? What are you-?”

“I’ll be right back!” he said, giving you a quick kiss before running out the door.

“Uh… ok.”

You ran a hand through your hair before walking through your apartment, making sure everything was locked and warded.

“Why are you helping me?”

You spun around to see Robin, clutching Archie in one hand and keeping the other levelled at you. Purple magic surrounded both hands.

“Well, good morning to you too.”

Archie seemed displeased with your little joke, but he stayed silent for now.

“No jokes!” were they- were they crying? “Just tell me why!”

“Robin, I-”

“I was supposed to kill you! I was supposed to find you and kill you but-” their voice broke, “But you aren’t-” oop, crying child! Crying child in your living room!

“Woah, hey, hey, hey, what’s wrong kiddo?” you approached Robin slowly.

“Why-” sob “Why are you like this?”

“I ask myself that question every day,” you knelt down to their level once again, “You don’t have to do this.”

“I do! I have to, or they’ll-”

“They?”

“They… the titans. If I don’t kill Merlin’s successor then they’ll… they’ll kill me.”

A little smile crossed your face as you took Archie from Robin’s grasp. The kid was so worked up they didn’t even notice.

“I was in the same place once, almost a thousand years ago.”

“No. You aren’t old enough!”

You giggled a little at that, “Looks can be deceiving. Back in the day, I was a spy. I worked for some very bad guys. They sent me to get information from Merlin himself.”

“Wh-what did you do?”

“I did what they asked. I was scared and alone. But do you wanna know what Douxie did?”

“Douxie’s old too!?”

“Yes, Douxie’s old too.”

“What did he do?”

“Well, he fought with me at first, but in the long run, he saved my life. He wouldn’t let the bad guys hurt me, and now, we won’t let them hurt you.”

With a sob, Robin jumped at you, not with an attack but with a hug. You were a little surprised, but you rolled with it.

“Please don’t let them hurt me.”

“We won’t. I promise.” you let Robin hug you for as long as they needed, making frantic ‘be quiet’ signs at Douxie when he came through the door. He looked confused, but stayed quiet and snuck into the kitchen, waiting for you.

“Thank you.” the kid said, looking a little embarrassed as they pulled away.

“It’s no problem kiddo. Now, to bed with you. It’s late and you are a child.”

“And the floor is made of floor. Goodnight, (Y/N).”

“Goodnight little bird.”

You made sure they were safely tucked in before motioning for Archie to follow you as you grabbed Douxie from the kitchen and silently dragged him into your bedroom.

“Ok, we’re adopting the kid.”

“I thought we agreed upon that already?”

“Yeah, well, I’m confirming it now. That’s our kid.”

“And you’re not going to tell him about-”

“Time and place, Arch, time and place.”

Douxie looked between you and his familiar, trying to figure out what he’d missed. You sighed, knowing that this wouldn’t be something you could keep from him.

“It isn’t my story to tell but the kid was sent here to kill us, but they couldn’t. Doux, I know that sounds bad, but Robin is eight. I was nineteen when I was sent to spy on you and Merlin, and you know that messed me up. We can’t let this kid-”

“I know,” he put his hands on your arms, trying to calm you, “(Y/N), I know. We won’t let this kid get hurt the way you were, I promise.”

You said nothing, but you hugged Douxie hard enough to make him stumble back a little. Archie shook his little cat head, but joined in on the hug, “We’ll keep them safe, (Y/N), that’s a promise.”

“Thanks, guys,” you pulled back, absolutely beaming, “I love you both, just a fun fact.” Archie gave your face a lil’ headbutt as cats are prone to do, but Douxie got that look again. You were about to say his name when he pulled you close to him, his lips grazing your ear as he slipped something into your hand.

“I love you, too. Marry me.”

There was a ring in the palm of your hand. Douxie left a kiss on your neck before pulling away to look at you.

“I-”

“Yes.”

“Wait, I had a speech prepared-”

“No speech needed, just,” you kissed him for a second before pulling back, “Marry me.”

“I asked you first.”

“I asked you second,” with that out of the way, you got back to kissing.

Archie realized what had taken place before him and did the cat/dragon equivalent to a face-palm, “Really, Douxie? The bathroom?”

I mean, fair point, the bathroom wasn't a traditionally romantic space, but love followed you and Douxie around wherever you went, so it didn’t really matter. You laughed anyway.

“Thanks, Arch.”

The familiar grinned as much as a cat could, “No problem. Congratulations, though. I mean that sincerely.”

“Thank you, Archie,” you gave the familiar’s head a lil’ scratch before kissing Douxie, your fiancé, again (and again, and again.)

#fluff #hisirdoux x reader #hisirdoux casperan x reader #douxie x reader #douxie imagine #hisirdoux imagine #aaty #hisirdoux #hisirdoux casperan #douxie #toa douxie #toa hisirdoux #douxtober #tooth rotting fluff

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thirstyforred · 4 years

Text

so i have been looking at Witcher vampire lore bc of that new trpg book

Katakans don't necessarily need to mutilate their prey - according to Sapek they just leave bite marks and that's all. Which means that Hubert Rejk and Gael are just like that

Speaking of these two - they 100% knew each other considering that they both lived in Oxenfurt. I really wouldn't be surprised if Gael in his humanoid form would pose as one of the students. If he would go to Hubert's lectures - I imagine Gael would be the worst to have in class

Radolf and Brandon keep writing that katakans are the least intelligent of higher vampires, that they're barely sapient. the audacity. just say you got bad grades at biology back when Rejk was still teaching

also if vampires can shapeshift into any humanoid race, like humans and elves, it wouldn’t be such a stretch to assume they could impersonate also dwarves, halflings, and gnomes, right? here, free oc ideas

but let’s go deeper - there’re still vrans in the blue mountains. imagine this. Scaly Vampires

and what the fuck the higher vampires eat since they don't actually need blood?

Erland of Larvik: Higher vampires do not have to drink blood to survive...

Me: cool, cool... so what do they eat to survive?

Erland of Larvik: ... but it does have a pleasant intoxicating effect on them. Most higher vampires have taken to drinking blood much like humans drink wine or beer...

Me: I fucking beg you!

Brandon of Oxenfurt: Some vampires are humanoid, intelligent, and may be able to pass as human, they can deceitfully disguise themselves as attractive and charming beings - women.

Me: i swear ill punch you and your sad frail old man twig bones will simply flake apart under my epic huge meat fist

also 'farming'... there's no spark in calling it farming. winery, winemaker, now that sounds way better

Interests: Physical Fitness - This vampire is devoted to its physical health, training its body extensively. They gain +10 Health Points. jock vampires confirmed

#emiel regis #dettlaff van der eretein #Thirsty vs Dziki Zgon #the witcher #pleas someone talk with me bullshit vampire lore

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beastlywritings · 3 years

Text

Beginnings

Pairing: Eskel/OC (Lae’elan) AFAB NB (but gender doesn’t come into it until later)

Summary: Eskel comes across a shapeshifter (Or she comes across him) and they make nice.

Rating for this chapter: PG-13 for sexual innuendo and suggested sexual acts, as well as talk of masturbation

TW (this chapter): stalking (kind of), manipulation, injuring another on purpose, mention of dissociation and the feeling of it, mentions of orphanage, mention of lost love, selfconsciousness about scars and appearance, gratuitous use of italics for thoughts

AN: Unbeta-ed. If you wanna beta just ask lol (help me). If you wanna gimme some concrit, I’d be grateful; this is my first time posting fic in years and I’m rusty as hell. Gonna be a long fic.

This chapter is mostly just intro to Lan, who is quite literally me if my kintype was a reality. She comes with much of my baggage and personality.

From her perch in the tree opposite the witcher, the apparent chickadee watched the man as he went about building his fire, placing each branch and split wood neatly and setting it ablaze with a quick hand motion. She’d followed him all day, in various forms, from the moment she’d spotted his cat-like amber eyes across the market. A witcher could have access to information she didn’t. A chance to finally find out what she was. Following him had been easy for her. No one expects a quiet but friendly dog, a flighty squirrel, or a singing songbird of malice, not even a witcher; and no one expects all those creatures to be one and the same. And, she knew from past experience, her powers only set off their medallions if she touched them while shifting. So reconnaissance? Recon was child’s play.

She worked through the questions that mattered.

What school is he from? Cats and vipers were dangerous, both schools cut-throat havens, less likely to help a sentient magical creature and more likely to kill first and ask questions later at the first signs of non-human traits. Wolves and griffins tended to be more code-bound and willing to listen. Her eyes narrowed in on his chest. She was in luck-- a wolf medallion peeked out of the collar of his open gambeson, laying on the cream of his shirt. I won’t even have to bother with proper manners, she thought to herself, remembering the last time she’d dealt with a witcher from the school of the griffin.

What’s his personality; which method would work best to get what she wanted? She knew that Kaer Morhen had been sacked, had heard rumors of who and when, even out in the wilderness. But surely some books had survived. She hadn’t been successful in gaining entry to the keep proper in her youth, but this could be her second chance. What sequence of events would more likely get her invited to Kaer Morhen and access to the library there?

The man seemed soft spoken; his voice could easily be a booming baritone, but he kept his voice quiet and calm to not spook the women in the town square. He was kind and friendly and polite, even smiling and saying ‘thank you,’ when he bought supplies in the open market. He tried to be as non-threatening as possible, as well, trying to make himself less of an obstruction in the throngs of people in town and pulling his large arms to himself instead of letting them hang loosely by his sides. He’d even stooped to help a woman pick up her fallen goods, though it had gotten him a scowl and a barked ‘hands off!’ Perhaps a spot of friendliness to warm him up to her, break down the walls that no doubt he had constructed over the years, then switch to some seduction.

Her eyes roamed over him, eyeing up the deep facial scars, the bit of white tooth visible where the scar tissue pulled (adorable); to his strong forearms of corded muscle, bare to the elbow with veins snaking along his golden skin; up to his silky, dark hair that ruffled in the breeze; and finally to the crotch of his pants, where there were little red bows keeping a codpiece in place. Seducing him, she thought to herself with a purr, poofing up her feathers and preening them some, would be no hardship. A handsome lay and the knowledge she’d been seeking since she was young? No better deal would ever come her way. Just keep the long game in mind, Lae’elan, and this could be it. Finally feeling she had enough information and having made up her mind, Lae’elan fluttered down to land quietly among the leaf litter behind the tree the witcher sat propped up against, her tiny feet making a bit of a ruckus. Muscles popping and bones creaking, she shifted into her true form. Or, well, most of it. She’d need to know him a bit better before she deigned to show him her wings. She pulled clothes out of the ether of her pocket dimension and over her head with less than half a thought. Vulpine legs peeked out beneath a woad-blue dress, as did her long succubus-like tail. Before she’d even taken a full step to the side, she heard the witcher reaching for his swords and decided she’d best show herself before he put one of them through her. Just because it wouldn’t kill her didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt.

“That spot taken?” Lae’elan asked as she rounded the tree, her hands visible in the air beside her head, one clawed finger pointing to the space on the other side of the fire. There was indeed a sword leveled at her, a cross witcher standing at the other end. She hadn’t even registered the sounds of him getting up. Looking down at the sword, she found he got more interesting. Steel. He assumed human or common beast. Huh.

“How did you-!” His eyes darted around behind her for a flash second.

“Sneak up? Shapeshifter. I was a bird a few minutes ago,” she said breezily, even pointing to the branch she’d been perched upon. Smartly, he did not look. Well trained. Eyeing the blade poised at her neck, she continued, “Could you put the blade away from my neck? Don’t need you to put it away, just… preferably not immediately pointed at my jugular would be lovely,” She smiled kindly.

He eyed her warily, but lowered the blade a fraction. This close she realized his eyes were actually just a shade or two deeper than her own. They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment. He seemed to not hate what he saw because the sword lowered another few inches.

“Just want to sit, maybe chat.”

His eyes narrowed warily and his gaze wandered over her. The horns atop her head, the long ears, her golden eyes, sharp canid-like teeth, fingers ending in curved claws instead of human fingernails. The gears working in his head, trying to make sense of what she was, were visible in his expression. Wouldn’t we all like to know, she thought.

“Why?” he asked, finally.

“Why wha-at?”

“Why chat,” he buried the tip of his sword in the dirt, acquiescing, and sat. She stepped around the fire and settled herself on the other side.

“Why does anyone chat?” She asked, but quickly followed, “Because it’s exceedingly rare to find someone I can be myself around in these times. Humans can be decent conversation, but they tend to be sticklers for shoes,” she looked to her feet-- her paws-- and wiggled her toes, “and too often make remarks I’m not fond of. Same ones you no doubt prefer not to hear as well.” He just looked at her over the fire.

“I’ll be honest, I’ve spent half my day following you today, trying to figure out if you were safe or not,”

“And you’ve decided…?”

“That you’re safe enough,” she chuckled. She’d get a proper conversation out of him yet.

“Oh?”

“Never known a wolf to attack on sight,” she nodded to his medallion, “and you were kind and gracious to each person I saw you interact with,” she continued. Waiting for a response, but not wanting to push, she looked into the fire and drew her legs to the side, leaning her weight on one hip.

“I would have noticed if a single bird had followed me all day,” he grunted. That wasn’t quite what she expected as a reply, but it showed intelligence and caution.

“A dog, two birds, and a squirrel” she replied.

“What?”

“I was a dog in the market, a sparrow in the town square, a squirrel on your way out of town and into the forest, and a chickadee for the past hour,” she looked to his eyes to gauge his reaction, “I’m no spring chicken. Reconnaissance is important to my staying alive, let alone having fulfilling conversations.” He paused after that, seemingly looking at the fire, but she knew that he was watching her in the edge of his vision. He was chewing over the fact that she had so many forms. Not many things could change into even three forms, let alone potentially the five he’d have been able to spot today.

“And what, little stalker, do you propose we talk about?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back on the tree. She ignored the jab.

“Pretty much anything other than children-” she spotted the minute twitch of his eye, “Whatever you want to talk about, really, as long as I can keep my tail out,” she flicked her hairless, red-black tail for emphasis, “Gets itchy if I’m in this form for long without it,”

“Don’t know of any kind of shapeshifter that can do that many forms in such a short period,” he squinted at her. She tried to hide that that made her crestfallen. His eyes darting around her face said she hadn’t done a very good job. Just because he doesn’t know off the top of his head doesn’t mean the library doesn’t have something, she reminded herself. Sighing, she replied honestly,

“Other than me, neither have I,”

“What are you?” he asked, not unkindly, losing the wary, almost clinical tone he’d had. Of course honesty would be what got him. She should have predicted that.

“I’ve no idea,” she answered, a bit quietly, surprising herself at the admission. He scratched his scar absentmindedly. Lae’elan wondered if it was terribly itchy or if his scratching was just a nervous tic.

“Don’t know, or won’t tell?”

“Don’t know. Honestly. Earliest memory is at a temple of Melitele for children, the office specifically, but the sisters told me I’d been left on the front stoop in the night,” Again, she was spilling truths freely. If it gets you closer to him, what’s it matter? Gets you closer to that library? He raised his eyebrows, but shrugged.

“And you can just…”

“If I can figure out how it works, or might work, I can turn into it,”

“And that’s your face?” She rolled her eyes at the question.

“Not a doppler. Here, I’ll prove it,” she said, sitting up straighter so she could reach around the fire, hand out loosely, palm towards the ground. As if she were a maiden offering her hand to a suitor to kiss. Nodding to his sword in its sheath at his side, she continued “Touch your silver to my hand,” When he didn’t do it immediately, she nudged her hand forward again and tilted her head to the sword, looking him dead in the eye, urging him to just do it. He tilted his head curiously, but unsheathed it. Moving slowly, he placed the flat of the blade on her hand without hesitation. There was, as she knew there would be, no sizzling of flesh. Just cool metal on a dainty, pale hand. Slowly, he turned the blade so that the edge sat atop her hand, but not enough pressure to cut. He piqued one eyebrow in askance. Lae’elan sighed, but nodded, and he immediately made a shallow slice. Her nose wrinkled a bit at the sting, but nothing happened. No hissing of melting doppler flesh. He wiped the blood off the blade onto his pants and replaced it in its sheath.

“I can do faces, but to do so makes me… uneasy. Like an out of body experience, but the bad kind a human might have as a poor reaction to some drug. Ah, there’s a word for it…” she trailed off before licking at the cut on her hand to get rid of the blood and watching the sliced flesh knit itself back together.

“Dissociation?” the witcher filled in before she had to think much. He eyed her hand curiously.

“That’s it exactly!” she nodded, “Most I ever change is my nose. Other than, you know, making myself look human,” she circled her face with a finger, drawing attention to the obvious non-human features. He snorted at the obvious gesture. She huffed a chuckle back.

“Eskel,” he said, suddenly.

“Hm?”

“My name. I’m Eskel,”

“Oh!” she said, pleased, “Lae’elan,” she stuck out a hand to shake. He gently took the hand in his and shook it once. His hands are so much bigger than mine, she thought briefly before-

“Odd name. It’s not a-”

“It’s a bastardized attempt at a human making up an elven name. The sisters thought I was an elf,” she said, flicking one of her long ears, “They were shorter then, and I hadn’t grown a tail or horns or paws or wings at that point. Those didn’t come till later,”

“You looked-? Wait. Wings?” He looked at her shoulder, as if trying to see if he had missed something on her back. He was tilting his head to the side again, like a puppy. Melitele it’s more endearing every time he does it.

“I have wings as well, but I don’t show those off until I really trust someone,” she explained, looking around the tiny clearing, “Besides, it’s a wee bit cramped for them to stretch out here.” The witcher-- Eskel, she corrected herself-- looked about the patch of dirt.

“They must be quite big, then,”

“Big, unwieldy, and very sensitive to curious hands if you get my meaning.” He made an ‘ah, I see’ face and seemed a tad embarrassed. She wondered if the old tales of witchers not being able to blush was true, and if it wasn’t, would he be blushing now? Ah shit, maybe we do need to be less crass with this one afterall, she scolded herself.

“But enough about what I can and can’t do, Eskel,” she laughed, and found she rather liked the sound of his name on her tongue, “Surely there’s something more interesting to talk about. Witcher like you must have some good stories or unique interests to talk about,”

“What are you, my brother’s bard?” He griped, smiling ever so slightly. The shapeshifter just raised an eyebrow.

“Ah, my brother’s the White Wolf, Geralt of Rivia.” Another blank stare.

“The famous witcher? The bard Jaskier, his songs, they’re all about him?”

“You’ll have to forgive me,” she began, “I.. don’t come out into human society very often, and when I do I tend to stay away from the more gossipy crowds. I’m afraid I have no idea who or what you’re talking about,”

“Oh,” he looked a bit startled at the fact she was so out of the loop, but the look melded into a bit of bashfulness, “Well then I suppose I feel a bit honored to have been your choice of companion, then,” he said, smiling lightly before gathering his thoughts.

“My brother, Geralt, has bright white hair and is known for not staying out of the affairs of men as we’re meant to. He met a bard, that’s Jaskier, who latched on to Geralt’s pantleg and became rather famous as his barker. Has an entire song cycle about Geralt,” and, mumbling quieter than a human could hear, “You’d think that it wouldn’t take Ger 20 bloody years to figure out the kid is as in love with him as he Jaskier.” She couldn’t help but snort loudly, surprised at the comment. Eskel’s eyes shot up to her. She flicked her ear again.

“You’ll have to remember I’m not human. Ears are big for a reason. I can likely hear better than even you,” she laughed again, “20 years?”

“Longer, 20 years of pining before they finally got their heads out of their asses and realized,”

“Fuck, even I’m not that bad. Longest I’ve lasted is two years before giving in,”

“Yeah, well. It’s different when you're a witcher,” he said, mood souring.

“Oh?”

“We live a long time. You watch everyone around you grow old, die, their kids die. Even if you decide watching them die is worth it, being with a witcher is sure death, whether it comes from exposure to the elements, a monster getting them, or a vindictive witcher-hater,”

“It’s not worth the experience of love? Of companionship?”

“They’ve decided it is,” he said, poking the fire with a stick, “Others? Me? I’m not so sure,”

They sat in silence for a minute, Lae’elan watching him as he moodily poked the sticks around.

“Eskel, how old do you think I am,” She asked, curious. He looked up sharply before looking her up and down.

“20… 30?” she scratched his scar again, “I have trouble telling with humans,” She laughed softly, thinking of times long, long gone.

“Try somewhere around 250, my dear,” she smiled and looked him in the eye, her own head tilting to the side now. If she didn’t impart anything on him but this, it might be worth it anyway, “And I have to agree with your brother and his bard. It’s worth it. Even if it kills a part of you when they go, it’s worth it.” He stared into her eyes for a minute, looking for something.

“I’m… sorry,” he said quietly, turning his head to look at the ground to the side of the fire.

“It’s ok. 80 years does a lot of healing,” her smile was sad, but brightening as she took up his idle mantle and poked the fire with a stick, prodding to move a bit that had fallen so that the fire could breathe better.

“250?” he asked, looking her over again, “Really?”

“Somewhere between that and 260, I’d guess. Some bits get hazy on the years what with being a hermit for years at a time, and, well, I don’t know how old I was when I turned up at that orphanage,” she shrugged, “Apparently I looked to be about three, but when I ran away four years later, when I should have been 7, I looked closer to 11. My aging’s rather fucked up. So… my age is a mystery just like the fucking rest of me.” Her stomach chose that moment to growl lightly.

“I’ll go-”

“You can check those snares I saw you set up,” she cut in, rising to her feet and stretching her arms above her, “But I can catch my own food,”

“I wouldn’t… I mean I didn’t-” He began. She chuckled.

“I know you wouldn’t try to poison me or assume I can’t hunt for myself, Eskel, I just enjoy catching my own meals too much to let someone else.” With that, she shifted, her bones snapping into new forms, her russet hair turning into pale cream and brown fur, until a wolf wrestled its way out of her dress. She took off like a shot into the undergrowth, but not before noting Eskel’s discomfort at the sight. Have to unpack that later, she thought as she bounded in the direction she’d heard a deer about half an hour ago.

Taglist: @its--fandom--darling

#EskelxOC #Shifterverse #mywriting #the witcher #witcher fanfic #oc fanfic #witcher oc #let eskel fuck nonhumans!

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whorror-jpeg · 4 years

Text

Eternum//viii

Pairing: Geralt x Reader

Summary: After being turned into a wolf, Geralt struggles to find his way back to his body, unable to talk or do basic human things. In his journey, he meets a young woman, who hopes to help him.

Warnings: Angst, violence, fluff, adult language

Author’s Note: Enjoy!

Previous, Next

The three were at a stand-still until (Y/N) recovered. It’d only been a day, and as Geralt sat next to her bed with the promise of the village doctor, he waited for her to wake up.

As fast as he could after defeating the pack of Rotfiends he and Jaskier packed up and went straight to the nearest village. Each turning he left to the forest, and whispers of the ‘howler in the woods’ began spreading into conversations with fear. And again, he was reminded that he was a monster.

(Y/N), for whatever reason, didn’t see that. And for it, he was grateful. Confused, but grateful.

In her sleep, she called him and her father every so often. Each time he’d attempt to comfort her by stroking her hair or face with the gentlest touch he could muster, it was what she deserved, he thought to himself.

It didn’t matter what body he was in when it came to her. He would be by her side-- save for the dawn and dusk times of the day.

Her eyes slowly opened, and Geralt stood from his chair, looming over her bed. She gave him a soft smile before a pained moan was enticed from her mouth.

Take it easy, he says and grabs a glass of water, handing it off to her as she sits up. She drinks it carefully and finished the glass.

“Why are you here?” is the first thing she asks.

What do you mean?

“You shouldn’t be here.”

His heart clutches, You don’t mean that.

“I’ve been nothing but unkind and a burden to you, Geralt.”

Geralt pauses, thinking to himself for a brief moment before he says, Do you have the slightest idea of how fucking important you are to me, (Y/N)? I thought I was going to lose you. I thought I would have to bury you.

“I’m sorry-“

No, stop, he interrupts. She closes her mouth as tears well into her eyes. Geralt cups her jaw and sighs, I keep trying to stop myself from loving you and I can’t. And it is fucking destroying me. He watches as a tear rolls down her face, and briefly, he wipes it, Don’t cry (Y/N).

“I don’t mean to.” She laughs a bit through a cry, “I’m just… scared, Geralt.”

Don’t be.

“I love too much, and in the end, it always hurts me. And I’m scared that it will happen again… and people only accept the love they think they deserve. If you can’t love yourself then,— then how the fuck am I supposed to be able to put forth the effort of letting you love me and being okay with it? Am I even worth it?”

Geralt shushes her, Don’t say that. It was like he could see into her past, what happened that made her so afraid? You are worth everything, (Y/N). I would bring you the moon if you wanted it.

She sobs, and shakes her head, and Geralt is quick to bring her to his chest as sobs wracked her body. He runs his hand through her hair, pressing a kiss to the top of her head and hugging her close. She pulls back, “I really feel like properly kissing you.”

Then do it.

And she does, it makes Geralt’s heart flutter fervently as he returns, his lips moving against her own, and good gods they were so soft. He could feel her pain, her love, her fear. All of it. And it made even him, the heartless Witcher, crave to cry for her.

She breaks from him, pressing her forehead to his, eyes still closed. His eyes search her face as he sees the ghost of a smile gently curl into her face, “You’re a much better person than you think you are, Geralt. Don’t let anyone tell you differently.”

I like it when you’re romantic.

She laughs, “I can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic.”

Only a bit, he laughs with her, pecking her forehead before hugging her fully.

As (Y/N) slowly recovered, the team was stunned as to what the next step was.

“If you sleep more, you would have a better chance at having dreams, yeah?” Jaskier thinks out loud before seeing Geralt’s face, “Stop giving me that look, I’m trying to help!”

Geralt rolls his eyes.

“We don’t need him depressed on top of being a shapeshifting mute, Jaskier.” (Y/N) snorts slightly in a held-back laugh.

What if I sent him on his very own contract? Geralt asks (Y/N), who shrugs.

“Stop telecommunicating it makes me feel you’re talking badly of me.” Jaskier pouts slightly.

“He was just saying how…” She looks at Geralt, Roach, get me my damn horse back, “How he needs you to find Roach!”

Jaskier looks suspicious of the two, eyes darting between them, “Hm. Fine.” He says, “I know exactly where she is too, just a village or two over.”

“You’re more than welcome to take Cole as well, Jaskier. Thank you.” (Y/N) says, giving the younger man a soft smile. He returns it.

“I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

And with that, Jaskier left to his room.

Thank gods.

“How long has it been since you’ve slept, hm? You look like a Rotfiend.” The woman next to Geralt speaks up after they’re left alone.

You’re one to talk. He smirks, running a finger through her hair. He loved being able to touch her with his own hands-- he took them for granted so very often. She offers a warm grin. While you were sleeping I readied a bath.

“That’s sweet of you.”

Carefully, cautious to make too quick of a movement, Geralt helps her out of the bed she lay in, steadying her with a hand on the small of her back.

Doesn’t this dress make it hard for you to function? He asks as he leads her to the bath that lay in a separate space of the room, a divider blocking the view from the bed to the bath.

“After being forced in them as a small child you learn to get used to it somehow.” she laughs out, a strike of pain being held back in her voice. His heart clutches for her, it having not liked the fact that she was in pain.

And somehow she notices his worry.

“It’s not that bad.”

You’re not convincing, He mocks her, bringing the memory of their previous conversation to light. She gives another laugh despite her pain.

“You’re rude,” she says, clutching her side.

Once they reach the tub, he carefully unlaces her dress, playfully asking her if she wanted him to join her with an ‘I do believe we’re alone now,’ to which she stutters out a ‘Just, turn around’ before he helps in taking her bandages off. He does as told, turning and hearing her step in the basin of hot, lavender-infused saltwater with a godly sigh.

“Don’t feel you need to stay here-”

I want to. He could hear the knowing smile in her sigh.

“Fine, then at least get a chair.”

With his back turned still, he positions a chair next to the bath, listening to her as she rubs dirt and grime and blood off of her body.

“You should talk more. I like the sound of your voice…” she trails off before he hears a splash. He grunts. “I didn’t mean like that.”

A smile creeps across his face, What would you like me to say then? She thinks for a small second, “What was your childhood like?”

You’re awful at conversation.

“At least I don’t grunt my yeses and nos.” She giggles.

He sighs, tilting his head in thought. Brutal, to put it simply. My mother left me to the witchers, and I didn’t know if I would survive past ten. When I did, it was the most agonizing thing I, and anyone else, would be subjected to. Only three boys made it out.

He could feel her wet hand grasp his elbow, and with that came flashes of images— Kaer Mohren, the meadow in the middle of the forest, the rocks, the Lady.

He came to and turned his head towards (Y/N), who had retracted her hand in shock.

We need to go to Kaer Mohren.

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