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jaskicr · 3 years

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let’s talk about fandom racism

i have seen so many people say that they don’t like yennefer, or they don’t vibe with her, or she isn’t compelling, or she is irrelevant to their fics/art/creations...

yes. everyone is allowed to like and dislike characters. everyone is allowed to have their preferences. and i’m not disputing that. but when people brush yennefer off, justifying it some of the reasons above or other reasons they come up with, i question whether there’s something rather dodgy behind this, especially when those very same people really, really stan white male characters (geralt, jaskier, the wolves etc)

some people are going to come at me, ‘why are you making everything about race??!??’ or accuse me of calling them racist, when they aren’t racist, how dare i say stuff like that. but it’s interesting, isn’t it? the way fans justify their dislike or their dismissal of female characters of colour with excuses like they’re not ‘compelling’ or they’re ‘problematic’ - when their fave white dudes are arguably just as bland and problematic, but those fans continue stanning their faves anyway.

it’s important, i think, for many fans to take a step back and evaluate their preferences. ‘fandom is for fun,’ you might say. ‘why do i need a reason to like a certain character? can’t i just like them because i do!’

you can! what i want people to evaluate, though, is how their preferences have been shaped by unconscious bias. unconscious bias is created as people grow up, shaped by people around them, shaped by the structure of society - and in society, white-dominated ones in particular, racism is embedded deep within, and it influences the way many people perceive and treat media, the way they interact within fandoms.

that is what i want people to examine and evaluate. you might reject it - because no one wants to be told that they’re racist, that they have unconscious prejudices that they don’t even notice. everyone wants to think that they’re open-minded, that they’re inclusive, that they are completely accepting of every minority group ever - when in fact, the way they’ve been brought up, the way society has influenced them, has created biases within them that shapes their preferences and perception.

i’m not saying people are being intentionally malicious and sidelining characters of colour like yennefer on purpose. i’m saying that there are unconscious prejudices that influence their views in a way that they likely aren’t aware of, leading to them dismissing characters of colour, or demonising them, or magnifying the flaws that a character of colour has while excusing a white character (usually a white man) for similar flaws.

this can very clearly be seen in how so many fandoms have white male characters as the most popular amongst fans, with many white mlm ships being the centre of those fandoms. meanwhile, people of colour, whether or not they have a compelling or interesting story arc, are relegated to the side, either ignored or used as a facilitator to help the two white men get together, or acting as a side character who has no life outside their connection to the white man.

sound familiar, fandoms?

i’m not telling you that you have to like characters of colour. i’m not saying that if you don’t like yennefer, you’re racist. i can’t make you like them, and it would be wrong of me to make you. but i am imploring that you examine and evaluate your preferences, and see if you have any unconscious prejudices and biases that you might not have noticed before, and become aware of them and how your prejudices might affect the way you treat others, the way you engage with fandom content.

then maybe - maybe, poc like me won’t feel so unwelcome in fandom. we all recognise that representation is important, and the fact that characters of colour are so often pushed aside in fandom tells us that you want to push people like us aside. it tells us that, because of your internal biases, you prefer white men over us, and for me? it makes me feel unwelcome, sometimes, the way i see characters like yennefer and triss and fringilla ignored or dismissed in favour of geralt and jaskier and the wolves.

and i get that people have preferences! i too enjoy writing and reading about geralt and jaskier. but sometimes i bring up yennefer or triss or fringilla and i simply get talked over - this really doesn’t make me feel welcome, and though i can’t speak for every poc in this fandom, i can imagine that at least a few of us feel the same way.

geraskier is still one of my favourite ships, but i’ve noticed that i tend to gravitate towards white mlm ships, and i wonder - what does that say about me and my internalised prejudices? what can i do to improve and evaluate myself?

not liking yennefer or other characters of colour doesn’t automatically make you racist. you don’t have to like them in order to not be racist. i’m merely asking that you be conscientious of your preferences, and be mindful of how you engage with fandom especially regarding characters of colour.

consider whether you hold characters of colour to a different standard than a white character - if a character of colour were white, would you dismiss them in the same way? would you demonise them for their flaws?

consider how you write and interpret characters of colour. do you fall into harmful stereotypes? do you use characters of colour to uplift white characters, and do characters of colour only have significance in relation to white characters?

consider how you treat fans of colour. do you listen to us when we express our concerns, or do you talk over us and try to speak for us, rather than amplifying our voices? consider your white privilege, because there are parts of fandom that impact on real life.

there is so much more i want to talk about, so much more i could talk about in this post (going into women of colour specifically), but the post would become far, far too long, and i’ve answered quite a few asks regarding this issue, so do check them out if you’re interested in knowing more about my take on different issues regarding fandom racism.

(and here’s an ask where i link several posts about fandom racism in the witcher fandom, and in fandom in general)

feel free to send me asks or dm me about this! this is just my take on things and i’m speaking from my limited experience, so i might not be the best equipped to talk about this. i’m open to discussion, i’m still learning and developing my views on this, so please do talk to me if you find an issue with what i’m talking about or want clarification on anything<3

#fandom racism #racism #the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #okay to reblog

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a-kind-of-merry-war · 3 years

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so I'm still on my bullshit, but--

So I think Aretuza fills a sort of... superhero academy space, right? And at first they take pupils who have natural powers and teach them to hone them but then the longer it goes on the more likely they're open to bribery - or just rich kids with no actual powers but the cash to have the gadgets they need.

So Yen and co are trained together, and end up being in a sort of superhero all-girl team, complete with outfits, and that ties in to the "gotta be hot" thing, because female supers are treated way worse than male ones because they have to wear tight or revealing outfits and fight in heels but if you say "actually, no" then you're kicked out - and its hard to be a super alone, especially when you're new.

And it works - for a while - but it turns out being at the President's beck and call is less "saving the world" and more "saving the parts of the world the president cares about", especially if you're a woman, where after a while there's this feeling of... am I just here to be pretty? Is that it?

I think this is when the divide comes in - some of them stick to supering (Triss, Sabrina), Yen removes herself entirely and goes into law/something along those lines, where she can actually do some good - especially in the realm of villain rehab - and Fringilla goes the totally opposite direction and goes Full Supervillain.

And Yen is kinda... happy to put that part of her life behind her, maybe, until Ciri shows up and she's a mother now, and Ciri needs her (and Geralt needs her, even though she's grumbling at him all the time) - and Ciri is a tiny baby superhero in a world that doesn't really treat supers all that well, and Yen would destroy anyone who tries to hurt her - or who tries to exploit her in the same way that Yen and her friends were exploited.

So - there's a Big Badguy at the end, and I think Fringilla works with them to start with, but then Yen gets roped back into supering when they realise that they really fucking need her, and then there's a sort-of redemption arc that doesn't end in "oh we're all the good guy superheros now!!" but in the more nebulous, "this is right for us, and everyone around us, and we are actively preventing harm"

and there's that question left of... are villains really villains if they're doing things that have noble motivation but less noble execution? Who makes the rules as what counts as "villainous" behaviour? Who benefits from the super/villain dynamic, and why? Who benefits from the laws they're trying to uphold?

#this is just living in my head rent free #im like SUPERHEROS THOUGH #the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #aretuza #witcher superhero au #long post #i might do something like this for the witchers too #because its got a same-but-opposite vibe #especially re: who gets chosen and why

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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CW: Past child death.

Meeting Cahir had been quite accidental but it was something neither Lambert nor Eskel regretted in the slightest. They were at a party, not quite sure whose though, there were a lot of people there. The invitation had come from Yennefer who'd heard about it from Fringilla who was friends with Letho. It was possibly Letho's birthday but it didn't much matter in a way. A party was a party, that particular one was quite rambunctious, enough so that Lambert and Eskel needed a quick breather. What better way to get away from the noise than to discover Gaetan had brought his husky along and was chilling in the kitchen with someone else. That someone turned out to be Cahir who wasn't really much for parties but had lost a bet against Letho so had to come along and at least pretend to be sociable for a little while.

The first meeting turned into a second and a third hangout session. Over the course of spending time together, Lambert and Eskel learned so much about Cahir yet nothing at all. He didn't drive, had an old as the earth mobile that was near enough indestructible. Technology as a whole seemed to be something Cahir didn't seek out. He worked as an accountant, still preferring to use pen and paper for most situations rather than the computer programs favoured by most accountants. Oddly, it made him quite popular so he had no shortage of clients. However, aside from that all the two knew of Cahir was how he took his coffee (black, four sugars), that he had a preference for sweet things over savoury and that he lived in a house at the edge of town.

As time went on the meeting up became dates which turned into Cahir going over for dinner. Eventually it became Cahir going over for lazy making out session. All too soon Lambert and Eskel knew exactly what Cahir sounded like in bed and also how best to draw those sweet noises from him.

It was all well and good but it felt like Cahir was holding something back, shying away from inviting Lambert and Eskel back to his home. In a way it felt like Cahir keeping them at an arm's length and it hurt. But neither Lambert nor Eskel were very good at words, they didn't know how to ask without it either sounding like they were angry or disappointed. In the end they didn't have to ask. They'd had rough plans to meet up in the evening, Cahir going over to theirs again to probably spend the night in a tangle of limbs. However, he called to say that he couldn't book a taxi because there was some event or other on in town so everyone was already full. Almost shyly, he tacked on, "If you don't mind a bit of a mess, you could come over."

Which was how Lambert and Eskel finally knew his address and eagerly made their way across town, curious to see Cahir's home. Weirdly it was quite anticlimactic. There was nothing strange or unusual about Cahir's home. The tour of the bungalow was quite boring.

"Shoes and coats can be left here." Cahir pointed to the hooks in the hallway. "Bathroom's through that door. That's the kitchen and diner, living room. Door on the left is the bedroom the right it's the spare room." Most doors they could peer through except the spare room, that one Cahir very deliberately didn't open.

"What did you end up doing with the spare room?" Lambert asked curiously.

Sheepish, Cahir ushered them away from the door to the room in question. "What pretty much everyone I know does with a spare room. Filled it up with things."

Not a very satisfactory answer but Lambert let it drop. They had a wonderful evening together, all thoughts of the mysterious spare room gone from his mind. It wasn't the last time Lambert and Eskel visited. In fact, now that they had been once, Cahir seemed to be a bit more brave about inviting them over. Always keen to see their boyfriend, they went whenever invited, even if sometimes weird things seemed to happen in the house. Lambert thought it was some kind of weird practical joke. He knew Cahir had an odd sense of humour from time to time. So finding all the cupboard doors in the kitchen wide open one morning was chalked up to their boyfriend trying to be playful. It didn't stop there though. They stayed over enough times that they ended up with toothbrushes by the sink, a few changes of clothes in the wardrobe and their favourite snacks in the fridge. However, sometimes Eskel would find his clothes and toothbrush near the door. Which was odd because he didn't wake up to either Cahir or Lambert leaving the bed at night which was something he usually would do.

The other strange thing was that, despite being repeatedly told that the spare room wasn't exciting at all, Cahir sure seemed to spend a fair amount of time in there, sometimes even talking by the sounds of it, maybe even singing on one occasion. But it was brushed off. So Lambert and Eskel ignored the odd little things that happened around Cahir's house, misplacing phones, keys and remotes seemed to be the norm. His kitchen doors seemed determined to open at inopportune times despite there being magnets to hold them in place.

"Maybe he's got a lodger?" The various ideas Lambert and Eskel had were starting to get a little more outlandish as time went on.

Eskel shook his head. "I still think a secret child. It would explain the little girl's laughter I swear I heard."

"And the music box playing randomly on his mantlepiece in the middle of the night."

They had no firm ideas about what Cahir could be hiding or why but they agreed it wasn't worth the risk of barging into the spare room to find answers for themselves. If their boyfriend wanted to have his secrets, he was entitled to them.

Answers had a way of coming about in the least expected of ways. The phone call from Geralt was a surprising start.

"We fucked up." He sounded beyond tired and stressed. "Could you come over?"

Of course Lambert and Eskel hopped in the car and race round. Geralt was a lifelong friend and he'd had so much shit thrown at him throughout the years. The worst was probably the death of his and Yennefer's daughter, Ciri. They had taken it hard, quite understandably. She had been the light of their lives, cruelly taken at the age of five. It just wasn't fair. Arriving at their house, Lambert and Eskel knocked. An exhausted looking Yennefer opened the door.

The house was a tip, like a small hurricane had gone through it, things strewn on the ground, broken and ruined. In the living room Geralt sat on the sofa, head in his hands, looking no better than Yennefer.

"What the fuck happened?" Lambert was never one to beat around the bush.

Sad eyes turned to him as Geralt looked up. "We just missed her so much."

Which was no explanation until Geralt gestured to the bookshelf. There sat a doll, like a miniature version of Ciri, obviously custom made.

"You got a doll?"

"She's haunting us." Matter of fact, Yennefer didn't mince her words. "We couldn't let her go and now she won't leave."

Scoffing, Lambert shook his head. He'd heard of many stupid things, knew that Yennefer had frequently explored some occult things but this was taking it too far. A haunted doll? Ridiculous. Even more stupid to think that it was Ciri. Even if the mess left behind did look like one of her more infamous temper tantrums.

"It's okay," Geralt said. "Someone's coming to look at the doll, possibly to buy it."

That was something Lambert had to see, who in their right mind would buy an allegedly haunted doll? He settled on the sofa with Eskel and they took in the destruction around the room. It was quite extensive, whatever Geralt and Yennefer had done, it was a thoroughly done job. They didn't have to wait long before the doorbell went. Yennefer went to answer and an oddly familiar voice struck up conversation with her. Sure enough, Cahir rounded the door in Yennefer's wake. He froze when he saw Lambert and Eskel.

"Is this a joke?" he asked, taking a step back.

At the same time Eskel asked, "Cahir, what are you doing here?"

An awkward silence descended on the room until Geralt cleared his throat. "You still want the doll?"

Hesitant, Cahir cast Lambert and Eskel a glance, cheeks rapidly flushing. However, he gave a tight nod at Geralt's question. Immediately Yennefer was handing the doll over and Cahir looked at it with a small frown. His eyes looked a little unfocused for a moment before he smiled.

"Hello Ciri," he murmured.

"How the fuck did you know her name?" Yennefer growled. "Did you search for us before you came here? Look up the tragedy of our lives just to play some sick game?"

Cahir held a hand up to placate, eyes wide. "No! The doll's haunted, like you said. She's been struggling to let go for some reason." At that Yennefer looked guilty. Thankfully, Cahir didn't let her dwell on it, "I'm happy to take her off your hands. She won't cause you any more trouble."

A frankly ridiculous amount of cash was passed over for what was a porcelain doll that looked somewhat like Ciri. Lambert wanted to ridicule and mock but somehow couldn't find it in himself, too stunned by this revelation.

"Did you get a taxi here?" Eskel asked in the end and Cahir nodded, lips pressed into a thin line. "We'll give you a lift home."

It was obvious that Cahir thought he was going to be interrogated and maybe even dumped. His shoulders sagged, even as he held the doll in one arm like it was a baby.

"Thank you," he murmured. Goodbyes were exchanged with Geralt and Yennefer before they trooped out of the house and piled into the car.

Silence stretched for more than half the ride until Lambert couldn't contain himself anymore. "So, haunted dolls?" When Cahir didn't reply with anything other than a shrug, Lambert pressed on. "What do you get out of them? Is it a weird fetish?"

At least that drew a look of offended horror to Cahir's face. "No! They just need some love, space and understanding. Most people don't care for them properly, so someone needs to."

Which was weird as hell, if Lambert had to give an opinion. Dolls, haunted or not, were still dolls that could be played with or disfigured or binned as the owner saw fit. The haunted aspect was something only idiots tended to believe. And his boyfriend. But it was best not to think about it.

"You might as well come in," Cahir said softly when they pulled up outside his home.

Finally, Lambert and Eskel were allowed into the spare room. Despite their expectations and theories, nothing could compare to the reality. The walls were lined with shelves, on them sat who knew how many dolls, each one with a little card next to it with a name, date and a few notes such as "doesn't like biscuits" and "needs daily brushing".

"What the-?!" Lambert stared, Eskel was similarly astounded.

Looking at them, Cahir shrugged. "As I said, someone needs to care for them as needed."

The door slammed shut to the room, making Lambert jump. Cahir only chuffed out a soft laugh and settled the Ciri doll on a gap in the shelf. He pulled a card and pen from the draw, jotting down the name and date. As the card was put next to the doll, Cahir quietly spoke. "You'll be welcome here, Isobel is your neighbour, she'll help you get settled in."

A saucer crashed to the ground, the plastic clattering. Clicking his tongue in displeasure, Cahir only moved to pick it up. "Honestly, Dara. That's no way to greet a new arrival. We'll be out of your space soon. But Lambert and Eskel wanted to meet you all."

An exaggeration by far but the warning glance Cahir shot them stilled Lambert's tongue. Even if he thought this was all a crock of shit, there was no denying that Cahir took it seriously. Given the way Eskel was staring around, he was having doubts as well. Leaving the room, they settled in the kitchen while Cahir boiled some water for a tea.

"Do you really think they're haunted?" Eskel finally asked, incredulous.

"Yes." Cahir shrugged. "Not all dolls are haunted, some people just say they are for the wow and the money factor. But I don't take those, they don't need me."

"How can you tell which ones are haunted?"

With great simplicity, Cahir said, "I see them."

Which was beyond any rational argument but Lambert didn't know how to refute it without it descending into name calling. In the end, he let out a long breath through his nose and pinched the bridge of it.

"Okay." It was easier than arguing. "I'm glad you have such conviction in your beliefs."

Right on cue the television came on without anyone near it. It cycled through the channels before turning off again. There was an indulgent look on Cahir's face.

"Sometimes Sasha likes to explore."

Determined to prove him wrong, Lambert vowed to check the wirings in the whole house and have a long look at the TV. And fix the cupboard doors so they didn't pop open anymore. And install cameras to prove that the clothes, toothbrushes, and shoes moving around was either done purposefully or through sleep walking. In the end, Lambert didn't know what was worse, that he found nothing wrong with the TV, the cupboard doors were beyond fixing and there was nothing wrong with the wiring or the TV. Or that Cahir gave him a knowing look before his eyes seemed to go a little unfocused and to the left of Lambert before the sound of a child's laughter rang through the air.

#lambert/eskel/cahir #lambert/eskel #lambskel #lambert #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #modern au #haunted dolls au #cw: past child death #tldr: cahir has a secret hobby

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teamfreehoodies · 3 years

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teamfreehoodies masterlist

The Witcher (TV)

See below the readmore to find links and summaries for all the fics I’ve written to date in this fandom.

and we will be elided by the people that we love most

de-aged!Jaskier, hurt!jaskier, hurt!yennefer, exploration of motherhood, families of choice, panic attacks (jask)

“What did you give me?” he growls, burying his fear beneath a burst of anger. The room around them splinters, making gravity an uncertain principle: vertigo makes him drool and he spits, falling over, digging his fingers into the ground in a futile effort to make everything just stop spinning. “Oh fuck, wha’ ‘id you do t’me?” he slurs out past a suddenly numb tongue. The icy burn has spread out from his throat and chest to take over his whole body, sending lightning strikes of pain zinging up and down his limbs.

“You’ll find out soon enough, I think.”

Yennefer is healing after Sodden, trying to pull her chaos back inside herself. She doesn’t actually have time to chase down wayward bards, much less take care of the child-sized version of one she’s never particularly liked all that well. She really is quite tired of being forced to save this fool.

darling, dearest, don’t you see (voices left inside of me)

follow-up to ‘elided" above: After the events of and we will be elided, Loretta writes Jaskier a letter. How do you forgive the kind of betrayal that’s made to save another life? How do you learn to live with the ways your family has hurt you? How do you heal without betraying yourself?

idk man, read the fic.

the heart electric (beats a half-time measure)

Jaskier drops the torch and the dagger, rushing forward to fall to his knees next to Geralt. The light sputters briefly but holds, and Jaskier curses himself even as he hesitantly reaches out to try and wake Geralt. The leather armour of his shoulder is cold under Jaskier’s palm, and weirdly tacky with something; arachas venom pings in the back of his mind like a warning, and he hastily wipes his palms off on his already ruined doublet, reaching forward to cradle Geralt’s face instead. “Geralt?” he whispers; the horrifying truth of Geralt’s stillness catches in his throat, preventing him from being any louder than that. “Geralt?”

It’s not that he hadn’t thought it possible… but Geralt was a witcher. No one had ever mentioned that witchers could die.

Five Times Jaskier Thought Geralt Was Dead, Plus One Time It Was Reversed

this life that we’ve created (inundated with the fated thought of you)

Gods, but this is very nearly intolerable. He’d been ready to forgive him, even then, waiting for Geralt to take it back, for him to turn around and apologize; and he’d been ready to forgive him two years ago, if only Geralt’s path would cross his again, one year ago, traveling slowly from town to town, chasing whispers of the white wolf in between his bardic circuit. He does not know if his heart can take it again, if Geralt once more decides him too much of a burden to bear traveling with. Injured, now, needing to be saved, he could not have engineered a worse reunion had he written the fates himself.

if you could let me inside your heart (could I be enough?)

Post-coital realizations should never be had alone. AKA Jaskier questions his place between these two powerful, immortal, destined-to-be-together beings, and he finds it hurts to be just… human.

this our winter of love (a gift from one above)

“It’s weird but I don’t think it’s witcher-weird.”

“Oh, it’s witcher-weird, alright.” Lambert interrupted, pulling up something on his phone. It was one of those ‘smart’ phones, paper thin, supposedly able to think for itself; seemed like more trouble than Geralt cared to deal with, but Lambert was half in love with the damned thing. “Look,” he said, thrusting the lit-up rectangle in Geralt’s face.

Geralt had to pull comically far back to actually look at what Lambert wanted him to see. The screen showed a small parcel of people milling about a city center. They were all dressed like either they had walked off of a movie set, or they were genuinely from the 1200s. There was even a bard, holding a lute. A distressingly familiar bard, for all that Geralt hadn’t seen that face in eight hundred years.

i carry your heart (i carry it in)

Witchers don’t have soulmates. That’s been true for as long as Geralt’s been alive, a necessary sacrifice for a life spent on the Path. There’s no place for the attachments that humans define themselves by.

It may not be worth it to Geralt, but love has always been the single most motivating force in the world for Jaskier. Unrequited or not, he’s a bard, and there’s a story to be told. He’ll be the one to tell it.

(Who’s the more tragic figure here? The loved or the unloving?)

Jaskier and Geralt are soulmates, bound by the Red String of Fate. But just because it’s written in the stars doesn’t mean it’s an easy path to tread, and it takes more than a nudge from fate to make a soul-bond work. Between the way Geralt feels about destiny, and the trials and tribulations of the path they have to trudge, it’s going to be one hell of an adventure.

the prairie is vast (the train is quicker) | Into the Jaskierverse, pt. 14

Geralt and Ciri are still trying everything they can to find Jaskier. After… a traumatizing split, they come back together in a new universe entirely. They’re offered a chance to distract themselves from their worry over Jaskier, and the perilous journey they’re on, by helping a female version of their favorite bard steal a wagon, rob a train, and, just maybe, come to terms with a worry that’s been plaguing her.

Featuring; much talk of guns, someone getting shot (on accident), a murder! (on purpose), Jaskier the Horse!Girl, one (1) dissociative episode, one (1) panic attack (though not the same character), and just enough fludd and banter to even it all out.

if i loved you (could you stay?) | QF1

He knows the way to Jaskier’s lodgings, knows by heart how to find the tiny row of cottages reserved for the professors and their families, knows too that Jaskier might not even be there; he’s not heard of anything from the bard in months, not since—

He shakes himself, turning away from the uncomfortable memories. What’s done is done. He only hopes he isn’t too late.

A love confession gone wrong leads Geralt to try and fix his relationship with Jaskier.

Go Get Your Mage | Yennfri promptfic

When Yennefer portals into Blaviken instead of Geralt, a more… mutually beneficial arrangement is made.

fate makes fools of us all (she plays the longest game) | QF2

It’s not that she’d meant to become a witch, but… well.

Sometimes these things just happen.

a willing ear (a hand to hold) | QF3

A little town in the mountains calls for the aid of a witcher, and Geralt and Jaskier take on a contract that’s more than it first appears to be.

Even the divine have friends, strange as it may seem.

breathe with it (bleed with it)

Fringilla was the first. She flexes her hand, feeling again the phantom tendrils of chaos crawling up her veins as her arm had turned to dessicated ash and bone in recompense for her glory. That was what being noticed got you. That was a lesson learned in blood and pain. That was a lesson learned hard and fast and once.

a Fringilla Vigo character study; “There is no such thing as dark or light magic. Nothing in this world is as simple as that.”

#amber writes fic #posting for posterity #this also exists as a page on my comp theme #but now it shall exist as a pinned post on my mobile theme as well #witcher fic #fandom creators make some noise ayyyyy

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acemoppet · 3 years

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16 Yengilla 🥺

Hey Aaliyah!! Sorry this is so late btw- I got way too involved by Yen and Fringilla bonding over lack of accomodations for schoolwork, but c’est la vie I guess.

16.) One person pouting, only to have it removed by a kiss from the other person.

———

“It’s not fair!” Fringilla says, scowling when her potion doesn’t bubble like it’s supposed to. “How are you so good at this?”

“Practice,” Yennefer says, sing-songing in the way she knows Fringilla just hates. She can’t help but annoy the girl- Fringilla’s always been so good at everything she does at Aretuza.

Probably because her great-uncle is a mage, Yennefer had thought bitterly many a time. So it’s gratifying now to see something she’s not good at.

...or it would be, had it not been Yennefer’s job to make sure her potion skills were up to par. Honestly, between this and the tutoring Tissaia has her do, you’d think she was trying to make Yennefer Aretuza’s next professor or something!

“Alright,” Yennefer says finally, trying to keep the sigh out of her voice. “Show me your process.”

Fringilla blinks. “You want me to make this potion again?”

Yennefer understands her disbelief- under ideal conditions, the potion takes about an hour to make, and Fringilla’s already spent nearly two trying to make this failed batch. Still…

“It’ll be the fastest way to help you,” Yennefer says, briskly snapping on a pair of potion gloves. “Come on, we don’t have time to waste.”

Between the two of them, they manage to divvy up reagent preparation quite nicely. Occasionally, Yennefer looks over to where Fringilla is grinding her petals, but she’s doing it correctly- perfectly textbook, even!

Strange, Yennefer thinks as she cuts and guts the necessary stems. Problems as big as the ones Fringilla’s been having usually stem from faulty reagent prep, but if she’s doing that correctly, then what-

And then they get to the portion where Fringilla has to lift her small cauldron over the fire, and it all snaps into place.

“You can’t lift your cauldron into position properly, can you?” Yennefer says, eyes fixed on Fringilla’s good hand where she’s clutching the cauldron for dear life. Her other hand, the one she’d withered on their first day here, hangs limply at her side. “Why didn’t you ever ask for help?”

As soon as the words fall from Yennefer’s mouth, she knows she’s made a mistake. The seldom-seen anger on Fringilla’s face just underlines that fact.

“I did,” she spits, slowly lowering her cauldron to the ground with a shaky hand. “And Tissaia never did anything- just said I had to work hard and catch up because this level of quality was ‘unacceptable’.”

Yennefer blinks in shock, but then she remembers her own struggles to get the help she needed- her back didn’t allow her to perform the more difficult physical tasks, and she’d lobbied for ages trying to get the accommodations she’d needed for the classes. She’d finally gotten them when she’d told Tissaia it looked like the Rectoress had wanted her to fail, calling her teaching skills into question- she’s quite touchy about those, Yennefer’s found.

Fringilla is… scared of Tissaia. All the students in their year know this. None of them are quite sure why, but it’s evident in the way she often goes rigid around the Rectoress, in the way her eyes go wide and white, darting from wall to wall as she tries to look away. No wonder she’d not been able to get accommodations from Tissaia.

Yennefer’s not one for pity- she’s tasted enough of it from others to know she hates it. What she does next is not pity- it’s simple empathy.

“Stay here,” she says, walking towards the door. She takes a quick look into the hall- good, no one’s around- before shutting the door closed and locking it tight.

“What are you doing?” Fringilla says, eyes darting over to the closed door. “Yenna, what-”

“Try it now,” Yennefer says. “But use the lifting spell we learned last year.”

Fringilla gapes. “Tissaia’s told us not to use that!” she exclaims, eyes wide in shock. “She said it interfered with the potions!”

“She lied,” Yennefer says simply. “It’s just to force us to do it the hard way- something about how that builds character supposedly.”

“No,” Fringilla frowns. “She wouldn’t do that… would she?”

Yennefer huffs and goes to sit on a stool. Gods, her back is killing her. “Believe me or not, there’s no way either you or I can lift that cauldron without the spell.”

She’s about to crack, Yennefer can just feel it. Still… “How do you know she’s lying?”

Yennefer looks at her dead on. “Because she told me.”

As her words pass over Fringilla, the girl thins her lips and her eyes go sad. For a moment, Yennefer is filled with pity- Yennefer’s not trusted an adult for years now, but Fringilla’s not like her. The girl actually does trust adults- or most of them, anyways- despite all the ones at Aretuza continuously showing that they’d rather throw the students into the fire to see them rise or die.

If she closes her eyes, she can still taste the ozone in the air from the lake of eels underneath this wretched place.

“Alright.”

Yennefer jolts back to the present. “Hm?”

“I said, ‘alright’,” Fringilla says, voice loud and defiant. She flinches at the echoes and quiets down her next sentence. “I’ll do the spell. You told me to.”

I’m trusting you, Yenna, Yennefer catches from her thoughts, baffling but wondrous before she turns away and casts the spell.

Chaos parts- it’s always a thrill to see the silver threads of the world bending and shifting. They shine against the tan of Fringilla’s palm, the brown of her fingers. What would those fingers look like, Yennefer wonders, next to mine?

“What next?”

Yennefer jumps. For some reason, heat rises in her face- Fringilla doesn’t seem to notice, too focused on the textbook next to her.

She breathes in, shaking the thoughts from her head. “Get the reagents ready. We’ll need to…”

The next hour goes by fast- it’s mostly a lot of stirring, with an occasional flick of their fingers to keep the flame alive. They should be using their fire tools, but Yennefer manages to make a very good case- “what’s a little more magic?”- and Fringilla seems to come around. At the very least, she doesn’t protest when Yennefer turns up the flame again.

Finally, they have their potion- a smooth, pearlescent concoction which is supposed to temporarily smooth away wrinkles and facial blemishes. The potion is something they’ll sell to court ladies and lords, to keep them from looking weak and old. It’s not that useful for them- they’re too young for wrinkles, and they’ll never get them once they Ascend.

...They do have blemishes though.

“Shall I try it, then?” Yennefer says, wafting the potion.

“Shouldn’t I try it?” Fringilla says. “I mean, it is my potion after all.”

“You?” Yennefer snorts. “We couldn’t test it on you, what would you need it for?”

Fringilla frowns- no, pouts. “Don’t be mean, Yennefer,” she says curtly.

Yennefer gapes. “I’m not trying to be mean!” she protests. “Your face is flawless, Fringilla!”

“Not flawless enough to land a Ban Ard boy,” Fringilla scoffs.

...Wait, what?

“Fringilla,” Yennefer starts slowly, trying to put the pieces together. “Are you- do you like Istredd?”

“What- no!”

“Then?”

“I just-” Fringilla blows out her cheeks and frowns- no, pouts. “I just… want to be wanted,” she says softly, like she doesn’t really want Yennefer to hear.

But Yennefer does, and she is baffled.

“Wanted?” she repeats, utterly confused, and a little irritated, actually. With the exception of Tissaia, Fringilla is the teacher’s pet of their year- why the fuck would she think she’s not wanted?

Fringilla ducks her head and- is she- is she blushing? “You have Istredd,” she mumbles. “And Sabrina has… well, just about everyone she wants. I’m the only one who doesn’t.”

That’s… certainly not untrue. All of the girls their year have had some form of lover at one point during their time here- all except for Fringilla. But Yennefer had always thought that was by choice, because really, who wouldn’t want to step out with Fringilla?

Fringilla, who’s near the top of their class, who’s perhaps the smartest in their year. Fringilla, who knocked over at least one Ban Ard boy when she smiled at him, and possibly one of their Aretuza juniors as well. Fringilla, whose sense of humor is hidden most of the time, but has made her and Sabrina devolve into stitches on the rare occasion she does break it out.

...Fringilla, who Yennefer’s just realizing she might have a crush on. Fuck.

“You’re wanted, Fringilla,” Yennefer says belatedly, but even as she says it, she knows it’ll fall on deaf ears.

Fringilla’s pout deepens. “Don’t pity me,” she says, turning away.

“I’m not,” Yennefer protests. “I- here, let me show you.”

And before she can overthink it, she takes Fringilla’s face in her hands and kisses her.

It’s soft at first, and a bit dry. Both of their lips are chapped from spending the entire day down in the cold potions room, but then Yennefer tilts her head and their mouths slot together, and it’s good, it’s good, it’s good-

Fringilla pushes her off.

“What the hell, Yennefer?” she spits, face twisted in anger. Fuck, but it only makes her prettier. “What was that?”

Yennefer blinks, taken aback. “I- sorry, did you not want that?”

“No!” Fringilla says, growling. “Why the- why the fuck would you try to kiss me?”

Yennefer inhales, trying to keep the weird, shocky ache in her ribs contained. “I’m sorry,” she says again, not knowing what else to say.

Fringilla huffs. “You should be.”

Silence falls over the room. There’s a steady drip-drip-drip from one of the faucets- they need to shut it off before they leave, Yennefer thinks hazily, doing her best to swallow around the ache that’s slowly grabbed a hold of her lungs and throat.

“You need to tell Istredd.”

Yennefer blinks. “What?”

Fringilla glares at her, eyes suspiciously shiny. “You need to tell Istredd,” she repeats, teeth gritted. “You’re going to tell him you- you cheated. If you don’t, I will.”

...Wait, what?

“Fringilla,” Yennefer says, “You’ve got the wrong idea- I didn’t cheat.”

“Like hell you didn’t!” And oh, Fringilla must be mad to her gills if she’s cursing this much- normally, you can’t even get her to say ‘shit’. “You just fucking kissed me- are you going to pretend that’s not cheating?”

Ah. Well, Yennefer can’t really blame her- in a usual relationship, that would be considered cheating. In her and Istredd’s though…

“We talked it over a while back,” Yennefer explains. “We’re each other’s main partners, and probably always will be, but we’re ok with each other taking other partners if we wish.”

Fringilla blinks. “That- really?”

“...Does that bother you?” She’s not going to lie, it’s going to hurt if it does bother Fringilla. Not because she apparently likes her either, but because Fringilla’s been her friend for years, and to have her judge her…

“No!” Fringilla says. “I just. I never knew that was possible. Liking more than one person, I mean.”

Yennefer can certainly understand where that’s coming from. “Well,” she says, unapologetic. “It is.”

Fringilla nods. “Right.”

They lapse into silence then, and it’s so awkward that Yennefer wants to crawl out of her skin. She almost says something, anything to break the weird atmosphere, but Fringilla’s just… contemplating quietly. Yennefer doesn’t quite know what it is, but something tells her that the wait will be worth it.

And it is worth it, because Fringilla looks at her again, then leans in and says, “You still haven’t answered my question.”

“Oh?” Yennefer says, just made a little bit breathless by the curve of Fringilla’s eyelashes, “Mind repeating it?”

Fringilla smiles, soft and maybe a little bit shy- it’s one of the cutest things Yennefer’s ever seen, and fuck if it doesn’t make her weak. “Why did you kiss me?”

“Because I wanted to,” Yennefer says immediately, startled by how raw her voice sounds. Because I want you, she doesn’t say.

Luckily, Fringilla seems satisfied by that answer, since her smile gets wider. “Do you… do you still…?”

To that, Yennefer just tugs her in again.

#yennefer of vengerberg #fringilla vigo #yengilla #yennefer x fringilla #kiss prompts #fluff #angst #yenstredd #kiss #first kiss #witcher netflix #the witcher netflix #the witcher #witcher #ace writes

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bamf-jaskier · 3 years

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Why Did Fringilla Buy Into the White Flame?

I am once again back with more rambling Fringilla thoughts. There are lots of book spoilers here wild uses of the Netflix timeline under the cut, so let’s get into it.

Because Fringilla goes to be a Mage in Nilfgaard in 1210. She works under Fergus Van Emreis who has a son sometime around 1217 (this is being generous btw and making Emhyr around 45ish at the end of show canon). Fergus is deposed sometime around 1230 by The Usurper and this is when Emhyr goes on the run when he's about 13 and is cursed to be a Hedgehog.

This is really the only timeline that makes sense as Emhyr/Duny/Urcheon saved King Roegner in 1233 making Emhyr 16 at the time which I think is about the youngest he could be and still believably rescue a king in dire enough circumstances that he is able to claim the Law of Surprise.

Then Pavetta is born in 1234. This is interesting because Nilfgaard begins progressing North in 1239. However, Duny has not been contacted by Vilgefortz yet and has no idea about Ciri (because he hasn't even met Pavetta yet) or the prophecy or anything like that. He has not yet reclaimed the throne of Nilfgaard. This means Nilfgaard's imperialist plans in the show did NOT start with Emhyr but rather with The Usurper.

Then in 1249 Duny goes to the Banquet to claim Pavetta's hand in marriage. She is 15. He is roughly 32, early 30s. You don't really think that though because the actors look the same age.

Then Ciri is born in 1249 and this is when Emhyr is contacted by Vilgefortz and he goes back to Nilfgaard, trying to take Ciri and Pavetta with him and not finding Ciri and accidentally killing Pavetta in 1257.

This is when the Usurper's throne is overruled and Emhyr takes the throne as "The White Flame" I'm assuming Emhyr then uses Nilfgaard's imperialist plots as an excuse to find Ciri. Cintra falls in 1262.

Here are my questions. Since Emhyr only took the throne after Duny's "death" in 1257 that means "The White Flame" only existed FOR FIVE YEARS.

Fringilla spent 47 fucking years in Nilfgaard before Emhyr came onto the throne and she clearly didn't like it as shown in episode 6.

So I'm super fucking confused here because what the hell did Emhyr tell Fringilla in 5 years that gave her a literal cult mentality and made her have a worshipful idea of who he is and his goal of finding Ciri.

She literally lived under an imperial regime she hated for nearly 50 years but 5 years of Emhyr and she's drinking the kool-aid?? I swear to god this is the most confusing part of the show for me right here. Someone explain this.

Maybe Emhyr promised her a position of power and she just thought “sure lemme transplant my personality quick and get right on that”. Maybe she was just so grateful for him overthrowing the previous regime. Maybe it’s the bad writing. who knows.

#I know you all wanted an answer but I genuinely don't fucking have one #if anyone else does #well I bet no one cares enough about Fringilla to have even thought about this let alone think about answering this #but I think about this a lot #the witcher #fringilla #meta #myposts #emhyr #duny

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waswilczmin · 3 years

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what witcher charas would you like to see around?

oh , this is such an exciting question !!! i have a scroll’s-length piece of paper with the characters i’d like to see around . i have no idea if you’re familiar with the books , games , show , if you’re familiar with all three … so i’m just going to list all of them here and hope that you recognise a few of these names lajdgh . these are muses i haven’t written with yet at all , even though there might be one or two around .

bolded are the characters i’m 99.8% sure no one on my dash writes .

first of all , where’s the love for the rest of the witchers ? vesemir , coën , leo , letho of gulet , auckes , serrit … all my loves .

where is geralt’s hansa on here ? we already have plenty of regis and dandelion , but maria barring , angoulême , CAHIR ?!

look , i know triss isn’t widely liked because of what happened ( yikes ! ) but i’m going to include her on here anyways because i like her as a character . we are multi-faceted here .

olgierd von everec , iris von everec , and gaunter o’dimm holy CRAP !!!

bruh … avallac’h .

literally any red rider , anyone in the wild hunt . eredin bréacc glas ( who doesn’t want to write geralt’s biggest fear am i right ) , imlerith , nithral .

essi daven , bless her heart . she deserves so much and got so little .

want someone who can totally kick geralt’s ass and almost kill him ? vilgefortz .

RIENCE .

i’m gonna say it … borch three jackdaws .

if you’re in the mood to write a shitty dad …. emhyr var emreis . {:

speaking of the other shithead , radovid v .

another king ? still crying about foltest over here .

MOUSESACK ?! or ermion , if we’re referring to the games here . same guy .

sorceresses of the lodge . philippa eilhart , margarita laux-antille , fringilla vigo , sabrina glevissig , sheala de tancarville .

bonus tissaia .

does anyone even remember who lytta neyd is .

nenneke … nenneke , good mother . love you . x

speaking of mom … visenna .

wanna write a shapeshifter ? dudu . love that little doppler .

the other leo , that asshole leo bonhart .

lmfao DIJKSTRA .

plopping zoltan chivay and yarpen zigrin right here because i love them . love them so much .

ultimately , if you’re planning on writing any witcher characters at all , even ones that aren’t on this list … please just throw them at me .

#anon .#( ;; i feel like i'm forgetting people... ALWAYS. )#& ‘ ━ answered . * ooc .

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gayregis · 3 years

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btv, I'm the same anon that once asked you why you don't like any ship of regis with women. like a succubus or vampire. you answered in a kind of mocking way. I don't know, if you were offended by my question, I apologize. but I was really interested why you don't like these ships and I thought maybe you could explain it as well as ship with detlaff?

i’m sorry i answered in a spiteful way, the likely reason for it is that when i started this blog (because my url is... gayregis...) i got a lot of hate and harassment, a lot of asks hounding me and asking why i don’t think regis dates women. i apologize, i accidentally assumed your ask was another one of those that was coming from a place of aggression instead of one of like, actual curiosity and wanting to know my thoughts. i appreciate your genuine interest, it’s refreshing as well as flattering, thank you!

why i dislike regis x dettlaff is a really long post which can be found here, i feel like i pretty much said everything there

as for regis and women... hm... well, i think it can be hard to describe why a character feels gay to you, sometimes. it’s easier with characters like dandelion, he dresses very colorfully. i think as for regis, he is gentle and kind but comes from a background of being in turmoil, not knowing himself, trying to be someone he’s not for social approval. i think that this is what initially struck me as something similar to “a gay experience,” or at least something like my experience was, where i tried to be someone i wasn’t to gain social approval, and it made me miserable.

i’ll basically be explaining here why i think sapkowski wrote in some things (most likely, not meaning to, lol) that feel like this gay experience i describe, but only wanted to show him having relations with women because, well. the sexuality of sapkowski’s characters is an entirely different post which would take years to write, i think. but from the text, we can see that regis struggled with identity in baptism of fire, and when he speaks of his backstory he describes being so uncomfortable and nervous when trying to speak to girls that he would need to drink before doing so, to alter how he acted. this feels to me (obviously, a non-canon interpretation that one can disagree with, but since this ask has asked, i’m just going to give my opinion) like he initially approached love in a pretty unhealthy way, forcing himself to see women as desirable and forcing himself to flirt, instead of just allowing love to happen naturally. this feels like compulsory heterosexuality to me, and is a relatable experience from a gay perspective.

on the other hand, in the present, we see him forming very good friendship with geralt in a natural manner. they slip easily in and out of conversation, they have multiple “asides” away from the group where they discuss things privately, regis becomes his sort of confidant and advisor and almost “second in command” of the hansa (referencing: in baptism of fire, when geralt tells regis if the plan doesn’t work out the two of them can press on together alone, him swimming across the yaruga and regis flying across as a bat... and in ttos, when geralt tells angouleme to tell regis, “regis will know what to do”). i feel like this demonstrates trust, care, companionship, etc, that has been created naturally, without any substance use to numb the senses or anxieties, and when regis is in a place of knowing himself, knowing peace and not forcing himself to rush into anything. it’s healing.

we can see that regis’ past relationship with a woman (the only one he mentions from his past, before he died) did not turn out well in the end. he drank too much, she left him, he was upset and used this as an excuse to drink more. obviously, very unhealthy behavior. while i actually think that regis and queen of the night* had a good relationship while it was still good, as she canonically stabilized him a little and was a steady force in his life, i feel like there’s no real exploration of this romance and it’s rather coming from the general perspective of “she helped me out.” it’s not so much an argument for regis finding women attractive as it is for regis needing someone to help him realize there’s something more to life than just partying. this relationship can be interesting though and i have thought about it, but it’s important to remember that also, this was a long time ago (a couple of centuries) in regis’s life, pretty much right before he went off the deep end and “died.” so it kind of represents the “past” him that he used to be, rather than the “present” him, in my opinion.

as for natanis** the succubus in toussaint, i feel that that also was a very “throwaway” romance for regis that sapkowski threw in. the point of toussaint is that everyone in the company gets distracted and finds it difficult to leave because it’s such a perfect, dreamlike, fairytale land -- and of course, in sapkowski’s vision, this means all characters enter into a heterosexual romance -- geralt and fringilla, dandelion and anna henrietta, milva and the baron de trastamara, cahir and the baroness nique (and also dandelion and the baroness nique... yeah. okay), regis and the succubus, angouleme and the young knights... it’s all very cliche and fun because it’s intended to be. but it really means nothing for regis’s character or his attraction to women asides from being a throwaway joke of irony that regis (a know-it-all who speaks for so long your eyes glaze over) kept a succubus satisfied. it also only affects his character when fringilla uses this information against him as blackmail, and again, when it’s stated that everyone has kind of grown attached to toussaint. so, there is no actual real romance between regis and the succubus, it’s more of a narrative thing and a joke than an actual argument for him liking women, and this is why i don’t really see it as such.

these are how i feel about these two main regis x female characters ships, and so i headcanon that he’s gay when the saga takes place because he’s found this sort of inner peace and is happy with himself. and because he has fulfilling and kind of intimate relationship with geralt developed over the books (which can be headcanoned as romantic)

--- footnotes

* as cdpr has named her queen of the night, for she has no other name than “very special vampire girl” in baptism of fire, so i’ll accept cdpr’s naming, and for quick reference, i call her “queenie,” because 1) it’s cute 2) ‘regis’ means king, so ... king and queen, of course.

** as cdpr has named her, again, she has no canon name in lotl asides from “the succubus”, so i’ll accept that, i feel it’s only decent to refer to female characters by names instead of vague titles.

#ask #anon #regis #queen of the night #geregis #natanis

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likecastle · 3 years

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Witcher Femslash February - Frenemies

For day nine of @bamf-jaskier’s Witcher Femslash February, have some Yennefer/Fringilla! Previous ficlets here:

Apart, Burned, Battle, Wound, Visions, Together, The Lodge

This is very slightly spicy--not too explicit, but what’s there is a little on the rougher side. I should also note this mentions consensual sex between underage people. I’m not sure exactly how old Aretuza/Ban Ard graduates are supposed to be, but this is meant to take place a few months before their court appointments--so they’re maybe 17 or 18 while this is going on.

Yennefer wonders if there’s a word for what they are to each other, she and Fringilla.

Finding the right words for things matters to Yennefer. There are words for spells, and words that people spit at you in the street. They can change someone’s destiny—four marks, she thinks, perhaps is always thinking, somewhere far in the back of her mind. Words can leave a scar that never fades. Someday not too far from now, someone will say some words and she will no longer be an apprentice but a full-fledged mage. She will speak a vow of fealty to some king and become a member of a royal court. Words have power. Words give the world its shape.

But this thing between her and Fringilla, it evades definition.

They have never been friends, not really. In her first miserable days at Aretuza, she’d felt a certain sort of naïve kinship with Fringilla—shy, uncertain, so powerful she’d hurt herself if she wasn’t careful. But any thought that they were remotely alike faded away once she heard Fringilla talking about her life at home. No one who came from such an influential family, who was raised in a manor with servants to perform every incidental daily task, who had never been hungry a day in her life could possibly have anything in common with the crooked girl who preferred to spend time with the pigs because they were more intelligent than most of the people she knew.

If she had to call them something, she’d call them rivals. It shouldn’t even be a contest, because Fringilla is weak and unambitious, and yet, everything that Yennefer has ever accomplished—working hard for her achievements, pushing herself to her limits, never yielding an inch she’s gained—Fringilla is always there, a few steps behind her, obviously less adept but making her ineptitude look easy. It’s despicable, the praise that is heaped upon her when she has hardly tried, and all Yennefer gets, despite her striving, is a grudging nod from Headmistresses de Vries. Innate talent, she’s heard the instructors call Fringilla’s abilities when they think no one can hear them, when all it really is, as far as Yennefer can tell, is high birth and good connections.

And then there’s the fact that they fuck, though she would never call what they do lovemaking. It’s not like it is with Istredd, where she wants so desperately for him to see her—really see her, and want her just the way she is. Maybe that isn’t love, either, but it’s the closest Yennefer’s ever come. What she does with Fringilla is not tender, or soft, or even teasing. It’s furtive and rough and sometimes when Yennefer tugs too hard at her hair or scratches at her shoulders, Fringilla moans like she wants more. The way she looks at her, sometimes, when they’ve adjusted their clothes and are waiting for the coast to clear so they can go their separate ways, Fringilla looks at her like she would take anything Yennefer gave her, happily, gratefully, and take it and keep on taking it forever.

They are not lovers. Yennefer doesn’t know what they are, but not that. And in any case, it won’t matter for much longer. Soon, they will both leave Aretuza, and take up posts on opposite sides of the Continent. After that, she’ll probably never think about the irritating way Fringilla hesitates when someone asks her a question, or how she yields so eagerly to the press of Yennefer’s tongue, or the sound she makes through her nose, so helpless and wrecked, when Yennefer pushes two fingers inside her and she starts to shake. After a while, she will not remember her at all. There’s probably a word for that, too, Yennefer thinks—a memory, a phantom, an afterimage burned on the back of her eyelids by the bright light of the sun.

#the witcher #yennefer of vengerberg #yennefer #fringilla vigo #fringilla #yennefer/fringilla #yennefer x fringilla #witcher femslash #witcher femslash february #femslash february #bamf-jaskier #yennefer reads a lot of jl austin apparently

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thegirl20 · 3 years

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Witcher Femslash February - Aretuza

Prompt from @bamf-jaskier’s list.

All of these ficlets are collected on AO3.

She's not sure if it's been two days or three since she was unceremoniously dumped into a cell with her former classmate and current enemy. The lack of daylight means time can be told only by how many times someone brings food, and by the changing of the guards posted outside the door.

"Where will you go, if we are ever released?" Fringilla asks, out of nowhere.

"Not so long ago you said we'd never be released," Yennefer mutters, long since fed up of Fringilla's conversation. "Make up your mind."

"If we were, though, where would you go?" Fringilla groans as she eases into a new sitting position. Yennefer can relate; the stone floors and uneven walls of their cell do not bring any comfort. "Where is home, these days?"

"Why would I tell you that?" Yennefer spits. "So you can come and murder me in my bed?" She shakes her head and turns away, hugging her knees to her chest. The truth is she doesn't know the answer to Fringilla's question. Aedirn is no longer home. She's not sure it ever was. She grew up in Vengerberg, but feels no fondness towards it. Absconding from Virfuril's court as she did left her with few friends in the kingdom. So no, not Aedirn.

Rinde had been fun, for a while, but the escapade with Geralt left it in ruins. She acquired properties here and there. Toussaint for wine and warmth, Skellige for anonymity. But nowhere she feels particularly attached to.

The single place that might fall under the banner of 'home' is the one place she swore never to return to, but found herself in not a week since. Aretuza, with all of its bullshit and hypocrisy and politics, is the only place Yennefer can remember feeling safe and cared for in her whole life. She had a warm room, with a soft bed, and was fed three times a day. She had access to hot water and books. She had friends. It was in Aretuza that she learned about herself, about her emotions and how to control them, how to use them to her advantage. She learned to dance, and swim, and kiss there. She honed her chaos there.

And, of course, tied up in every single feeling she has about the place is Tissaia. Every fucking confusing emotion Yennefer has in life involves Tissaia on some level. She closes her eyes now, attempting to block out Fringilla's insistence that she is dead. That just cannot be. Yennefer refuses to believe it. Chaos like Tissaia's is not simply snuffed out by some vengeful former student's grudge. If Tissaia were ever to die, it would need to be in some awe-inspiring way. An explosion that rocks the entire continent. Anything less would not be fitting.

The heavy key turns in the door and Yennefer groans. "Surely it's not time for more of that fucking slop already?"

When she looks over, though, it's not some minion dropping off bowls of gruel. It's Filavandrel himself. The King of the Elves. Yennefer's stomach lurches; this must be it. They are to be told their fate. She scrabbles to her feet, using the chain attached to the cuff on her wrist to pull herself upright. Fringilla is doing the same. Filavandrel steps aside to let someone else enter and Yennefer's heart stops dead in her chest.

There stands Tissaia De Vries, looking as regal as Yennefer's ever seen her in a stiff burgundy dress with the usual high starched collar. Her hands are linked at her waist and her medallion resting on her chest. Her hair is immaculately arranged in a severe bun. She is alive. She meets Yennefer's eyes and the relief in own is stark.

"Tissaia," Yennefer whispers, forgetting for a moment that she is attached to the wall and stepping forward to go to her. She is jerked back when she runs out of chain.

"Guard," Filavandrel calls. "Release her."

Tissaia steps forward, ignoring the guard fumbling with Yennefer's wrist and cups her cheek with a trembling hand. "Are you alright?" she asks.

"You're alive," Yennefer whispers, her sight blurring at the first touch of Tissaia's hand to her grimy face. "You're alive."

"So it would appear." Tissaia strokes her cheek and gives her a smile, before turning to Fringilla. "You seem surprised to see me, Fringilla."

"You should be dead," Fringilla whispers. "There's no way you could have survived that much- I saw you inhale it. I saw you fall."

"Yes, well," Tissaia smirks. "You always did lack the ability to follow-through, my dear. Leaving me for dead without making sure of it was a mistake on your part."

Freed from her dimeritium cuff, Yennefer throws her arms around Tissaia, inhaling her warm, clean scent. "You're alive."

Tissaia pushes her back, examining her face. "You are unharmed?" she asks, her eyes flitting over Yennefer's ragged dress and generally bedraggled appearance.

"You doubt my word, Rectoress?" Filavandrel asks. "I told you I had expressly ordered neither of them be harmed."

"I trust your word, Your Grace," Tissaia says, her eyes still on Yennefer. "I am less trusting of foot soldiers left alone with a beautiful woman, out of the sight of their King."

"I am unharmed," Yennefer confirms. "Unless you count the pounding headache from having to listen to Fringilla for days on end."

The corner of Tissaia's mouth twitches and she nods. "Come, then. Let's get you out of here."

"The score is settled now, yes?" Filavandrel asks, as Tissaia leads Yennefer to the door. "We are even."

Tissaia nods, linking her arm through Yennefer's, glancing up at her face. "I would say so."

They go to leave, but Fringilla's voice calls out to them. Tissaia stops, but does not turn. Yennefer glances back over her shoulder at her former cellmate.

"You're just going to leave me here?" Fringilla cries, straining as far as her chains will allow her. "You know Nilfgaard will not come for me. You know they'll leave to rot."

"I gave you an opportunity to come back to Aretuza," Tissaia says, still facing forward. "I gave you a chance to redeem yourself. And you threw poison in my face." Yennefer tightens her grip on Tissaia's arm. "Goodbye Fringilla."

Tissaia starts to walk again, and Yennefer casts one final look at Fringilla, yanking at her restraints and howling with rage.

-------

They make their way through the caverns in silence, following behind the guard assigned to let them out. Yennefer's mind is racing with gratitude and questions and a multitude of emotions all tangled up in the woman by her side. She resolves to speak about them as soon as is practical when they are alone.

Once they are clear of the Elven keep, Tissaia staggers, reaching out to grasp Yennefer's arm. Yennefer barely manages to keep them both on their feet. "Tissaia? What is it?"

"Nothing," Tissaia doesn't release her grip on Yennefer's arms. "I-" She coughs. "I may have been exaggerating how complete my healing from the dimeritium poisoning was, for Fringilla's benefit." She gives Yennefer a weary smile. "I'm just tired, that's all."

"Then let's sit a while," Yennefer says, leading Tissaia to a nearby collection of trees and helping her to sit against the broad trunk of one of them. She eases herself down, her own fatigue catching up with her. Without thinking, she wraps an arm around Tissaia's shoulders and pulls her close, resting their heads together. She feels more than hears Tissaia sigh in relief.

"Thank you," Yennefer murmurs. "For coming for me."

"No need to thank me," Tissaia says. "It was my fault you were captured in the first place. I would have done whatever was necessary to get you out."

"Did you have to pay a ransom?" Yennefer asks, curious about the answer. She already knows Aretuza is struggling financially, and any large ransom would surely impact quite severely on its future.

"No." Tissaia sags more heavily against her. "I have a long history with the Elves and I- I called in a favour from Filavandrel." Before Yennefer can ask the details of the favour, Tissaia's fingers are on her chin, turning her face around so that their eyes can meet. "But I would have paid, if they had demanded a ransom. I would have paid anything they asked." She takes Yennefer's face in both her hands. "I would have doubled whatever price they put on your head. Tripled it, and still it would not have been enough."

Tears spill from Yennefer's eyes, running over the backs of Tissaia's hands, and she tries to smile. "My price has gone up from four marks, then?" she asks, her voice shaking.

"Oh, Yennefer, don't you know by now?" Tissaia shakes her head, her own eyes shining with tears. "You are priceless."

If asked, Yennefer would not be able to say which of them moved first. All she knows is that when their lips meet in a tear drenched kiss, she knows beyond doubt that she has come home.

#yennaia #the witcher #fic by me #wff #femslash february

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anahitas7567 · 3 years

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The witcher

Oh, thank you for the ask 💕💕

My favorite female character: Triss

Kind, powerful, freckles, the love of my life

My favorite male character: Geralt

He just wants to save people and spend time with his horse, what more could you want?

My favorite book/season/etc: I haven’t read the books or played the games(yet, I want to play them soon) so I guess season 1? Lolol

My favorite episode: Betrayer Moon

Easily the hardest question, but I like Yenn’s backstory and Geralt’s story arc. Also, Triss is here and amazing

My favorite cast member: Henry Cavill

My favorite ship: Geralt/Yennefer/Jaskier(/therapy)

A character I’d die defending: Yennefer

She has her flaws, and she needs some serious therapy, but damn her life sucks

A character I just can’t sympathize with: Fringilla

This woman has completely lost her shit??? I do want to know more about her though

A character I grew to love: Calanthe

She’s a bitch and she’s the cause of about 70% of the problems on the continent so far, but she’s well written and she’s super fucking interesting

My anti opt: Yennefer/Istredd

Istredd isn’t an irredeemable character yet, but he and Yennefer should not be in the same room together, for both their sakes

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #thank you for the ask!!!#I have all kinds of other opinions as well #don’t hesitate to ask #💕💕💕

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jaskiersvalley · 3 years

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🌼~BEAUTIFUL PERSON AWARD! Once you are given this award you’re supposed to paste it in the asks of 8 people who deserve it. If you break the chain nothing happens, but it's sweet to know someone thinks you’re beautiful inside and out.~🌼 (for you're such a lovely person who shares so many beautiful fics with us and is always up for talking. ily

I have no idea how long I’ve been sitting on this ask because I just love seeing you in my inbox. But, like with everything, I need to stop hoarding and write a little thank you <3

Something wasn’t quite squaring up with Nilfgaard’s army. It spread at an alarming rate, much faster than a regular army could. Whatever sorcery the mages and sorceresses have concocted, it was terrifying. Such an army shouldn’t have been able to sustain itself, it needed food, water, resources to travel. Yet, despite all this, the army seemed to move silently, without the usual almost locust like destruction and draining of everything in their path. Nobody seemed to be able to pinpoint where the army was when it wasn’t fighting, only small scouting groups. People learned to be wary of those groups too. Wherever they went, the army was never seemingly far behind, backing them up at a moment’s notice. It was a mystery that was yet to be solved.

Finding a Nilfgaardian on the run was quite unusual. Eskel didn’t think it was something he’d live to see. They were usually so cocksure, travelling in their little groups. He had learned to spot them, even if they weren’t trying to make a scene. One leader, with five protectors. Those five tended to be on full alert and guarding their leader which was a bit odd, but then again, Nilfgaard as a whole was a bit peculiar.

The man Eskel spotted was obviously from the South, he heard him order, the accent harsh yet lilting at the same time. Watching him find the darkest corner - the one Eskel had wanted for himself - curiosity was winning out. Only a desperate man would share a space with a Witcher and this man, though he shrank away, steadfastly refused to move from the shadows of the corner.

“Got separated from your group?” Eskel liked to make small talk if he could. Especially when it helped solve a curiosity like the man opposite him.

“Something like that.”

Evasive, huddled and not looking Eskel in the eyes. The plot thickened. “So you ran away.” While the man didn’t seemingly react, Eskel could hear his heartrate pick up. “Why?”

Silence stretched. The man finished his food in a great hurry and was up, evidently not wanting any kind of company. Oddly, Eskel didn’t think it had anything to do with him being a Witcher.

The next morning the man was nowhere to be seen. But Eskel caught his scent and, with nothing better to do, he set off at a leisurely pace in the same direction. If they bumped into each other he could always claim it was a funny twist of Fate. He shouldn’t have joked about it, not even in his own head because, not a few miles out of the village, he found the evidence of a scuffle. The whole stretch of road had a tang of death to it which he couldn’t place. However, he soon forgot about it because he could smell blood and hear the pained, laboured breaths of someone. Rounding the small clump of bushes, Eskel tutted. “Run into trouble?”

“No.”

The blatant lie drew a laugh from Eskel. He had to admit, he was intrigued. Grabbing his pack, he approached the man, showing him his hands in an attempt to reassure that he meant no harm. In fact, he was offering a helping hand.

“Did they get what they wanted?” The question tripped from Eskel’s lips as he lifted the man’s gambeson away to reveal a cut to his side. It wasn’t deep but it was in the crease of soft flesh that tended to sting like a bitch, Eskel knew that from experience. His only reply was a shake of the head. “Good. You sent them packing by the looks of it. I’m impressed. My name’s Eskel by the way.”

Still no reply and the man tipped his head back, staring at the sky with gritted teeth while Eskel saw to his wound.

“Well, you’re in no state to travel alone. You headed anywhere in particular?” Another head shake but this time the man watched him with guarded eyes. “Okay. Why don’t we travel together for a bit. I can help keep you safe.”

“I can’t pay you for your services.” Clipped words that sounded tired. "And you probably shouldn't be around me."

It was cute, how the man seemed so determined to drive Eskel away without being cruel. Most refreshing. "I don't need your payment. As I'm not headed anywhere in particular, I figured we could both use a bit of company."

That settled the matter and, for three days they travelled in companionable silence, sticking to villages and heading north. It was only in a larger village that Eskel learned the man's name and not because they were getting more friendly either. The poster bore quite a good likeness to Cahir.

"So-" Eskel said as they camped outside the village, "-want to tell me why Nilfgaard thinks you're dangerous enough to not be approached but your sighting should be reported swiftly and discreetly?"

Cahir let out a world weary sigh, shoulders drooping. "I control a large portion of their army. They want me back for that."

Which was interesting. In Eskel's experience no general tended to command such loyalty. He was also a sucker for those in need. Plus, the chance to fuck Nilfgaard over was quite glorious. He smirked. "Want to come to Kaer Morhen to hide out for the winter?"

It was a bit of a trek north still but Cahir began to relax around Eskel. They shared their first kiss at the foot of the trail up to Kaer Morhen. A few more were traded along the way but, for the most part, they huddled for warmth, cuddled up for the cold nights.

Slowly the keep filled up with its regular winter visitors, all of them somewhat hesitant to greet Cahir until Eskel intervened with a pointed glare from behind him. Everyone settled in, Geralt turned up with Jaskier, Lambert and Aiden did their usual thing, even Coen managed to slip through the gates before the snow hit. Soon, they were all enjoying the roaring fires, drink and songs. Despite his army background, Cahir turned down all invitations to train and share knowledge. It didn't make him very popular but his cooking helped ease any grumblings.

It was all going well until a portal opened up and Yennefer stepped through. midway through greeting everyone she froze and turned to the door as Cahir stepped in.

"What are you?" she hissed, hand curling to cradle an unleashed spell.

"Nilfgaard's finest deserter."

That didn't seem to help ease Yennefer and she looked over Cahir with a critical eye. "I can see Fringilla's work in there with several others'. You volunteer for this?"

"Only as much as someone volunteers to be a Witcher."

"Just what is going on?" Vesemir rumbled. He had a hand on the hilt of his sword, ready to jump in. That had Cahir taking a step back, a pained expression.

"I wouldn't advise you hurt me. You have an awful lot of dead buried here."

The growl from Vesemir wasn't reassuring. "Don't threaten me in my own home, boy."

"Vesemir!" The warning came from Yennefer of all people. "Don't."

Something was crackling in their air, Eskel could feel the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. It was magic but not any kind he had felt before. Even worse, he could trace the source back to Cahir whose eyes were turning black slowly.

"I'm going to go outside. Please nobody follow." Stiffly, Cahir turned and marched out of the keep, into the snow covered woods. Silence reigned in his wake.

"The fuck?" Lambert spat, looking angry in his bewilderment.

As one, they all turned to Yennefer for an explanation. None of them had felt even a hint of magic from Cahir until that moment.

"That-" Yennefer pointed to where Cahir had been, "-is an unnatural necromancer. No innate ability but, with the right stimuli, can raise the dead between here and the bottom of the mountain."

The silence stretched until Jaskier cursed. "Now we know how Nilfgaard's army is sustained."

As big as the revelation was, Eskel had a bigger concern. That was his boyfriend who had just walked out, looking ready to be consumed by his unnatural powers. Stepping out of the keep, Eskel had to whistle. The whole area between the keep and the woods was covered in flowers, a carpet of green dotted with blossoms of colour. In the middle of it all was Cahir, kneeling, eyes closed and head tipped towards his chest. His breathing was forcedly even and deep.

"Go away," Cahir gritted out.

"It's just me."

Looking up, Cahir's eyes were black and bottomless, his breath hitched as a tear trickled down his cheek. "I didn't mean to. I promise. They're everywhere."

Eskel could hear the footsteps, shuffling and shambling. Not all of them human, one alarmingly large.

"Old Speartip," Eskel growled. From the forest around them an army of the undead approached. All the bodies they didn't have the means to burn after the sacking, Old Speartip from his cave, forktails they'd left dotted around the mountain, they were all approaching Kaer Morhen. Along with them came the smell Eskel had scented on the road where bandits had accosted Cahir, now he knew what happened back then.

Cahir let out a shuddering breath, hands curled into a fist. "Threats of violence and pain make them come."

"And when you feel safe, do they go away?"

A miserable nod was his answer and Eskel dropped to his knees. He gathered Cahir against his chest and kissed his softly, demanding all his boyfriend's focus to be on him. The noise of the undead around them stopped, under his knees Eskel could feel the grass wilting back to its winter state. Pulling away, he was pleased to see the blue of Cahir's eyes.

"I'll always keep you safe," he rumbled. A darker thought crossed his mind. "The groups of six scouts for Nilfgaard, they weren't scouts at all, were they?"

From the doorway, Eskel could hear the others shuffling around and peering out at them. But his attention was on Cahir and Cahir alone.

"A necromancer and their guards who're also their tormentors." Cahir sniffled. "There's a reason I've not joined you in the waterfalls. To raise an army, they did unspeakable things."

Eskel pulled Cahir tightly to his chest, wishing he could make everything better. Alas, there wasn't much to be done other than what he'd already been doing; supporting and loving to the best of his abilities.

"We now know better," he tried to reassure. "How would you feel if, in the spring, we continued to travel together? We can take any road you feel comfortable on."

Looking up at Eskel with wide, wet eyes, Cahir licked his lips. "I can't pay you for your services," he said, repeating his words from all those months ago. "But how would you feel about fucking Nilfgaard over? We could rescue a few more necromancers."

It was a daring plan but one that Eskel was intrigued by. So were the others when, over dinner, Cahir haltingly told them everything. The Path was unpredictable at the best of times, the coming year it was going to get even more convoluted.

#eskhir #eskel/cahir #eskel #cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach #the witcher #tldr: nilfgaard creates necromancers to raise armies

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troiings · 4 years

Note

Hey :) Love your stone fanfic! With the backstory Tissaia has in this universe can you maybe elaborate how she felt or what she thought when Yennefer burned everything around her. At least initially she couldn’t know that Yen would manage to spare her right? But burned alive must be especially terrifying for someone who once was so horribly burned

Hi! Oof, what a great question. this got long, so under a cut

it actually made me wonder: could Tissaia have really *known* Yen was going to literally burn everything? upon consideration, i’m not sure we can be very certain that Tissaia knew Yen would choose to scorch the Nilfgaardian army. from what we saw at the Conclave and what Fringilla said, fire magic in the Netflix Witcher universe is among the other forbidden magics (and in the books, it’s incredibly dangerous). I’m not entirely sure what else she would or could have done to demolish such an army (though i like the idea of her using Aeromancy to just absolutely annihilate them with lightning or something - and i do have a short ficlet in which Tissaia and Yen basically take on the army just the two of them, with lightning and fire). it is, of course, entirely possible that Tissaia had suspicions. the fire burning in the fort was an incredible source of Chaos rampant in nature for her to draw from, and she did rather like to talk about burning things to the ground. xD i also very much headcanon that channeling energy in its original form is much simpler than trying to convert it: i.e. channeling fire into fire magic would be easier than converting the energy of fire into some other form of magic, if that makes sense?

rambling, sorry

i do believe Tissaia had pretty much accepted, upon telling Yennefer to ‘forget the bottle’ that they were both about to die. Yen needed to act fast - too fast for Tissaia to try to get out of the way, clearly - and losing control is, as Tissaia has put it time and again, the chiefest way to get yourself killed. so, they were either going to die because Yennefer failed and the army converged upon them, or they were going to die because Yen went completely scorched-earth on the place and sacrificed herself in the process.

and i’d also say, based on the first paragraph here, that Tissaia probably figured things were about to go up in flame while watching Yennefer literally extinguish the fires in the fort by taking their energy into herself. (like, damn)

it’s pretty plain even without my headcanons that, in that moment, Tissaia was terrified. the fact of the matter is this: if someone is flinging unbridled magic at you in the form of fire, it doesn’t matter how small you make yourself, you’re going to die. and we always see Tissaia in control; she clings to control like a lifeline. but in that moment when the flames are coming towards her she panics and drops to the ground, covers her head, trying to shield herself even though it’s an absolutely futile action. which, let’s be real, with or without my headcanons, no matter how you shake it Tissaia was scared.

now i’m watching the relevant scenes through the lens of that headcanon for the first time since i developed it and... oof. she seems pretty clearly resigned to her fate as she watches Yennefer climb that outcropping of rock. tbh, she’s had 500 years to work through that trauma, and i don’t think she’s afraid of fire or anything at this point, by and large, though the trauma is still there (in the case of this universe, embedded in her flesh). i’m inclined to believe that she was thinking back to how she herself let her Chaos go unbridled in her Conduit moment and how, as a point of fact rather than some emotional flashback, she nearly died in the process. it’s a fact that Yennefer is about to do the same thing, and almost inevitable that she’s going to die, willingly making that sacrifice. i say this because she seems ultimately caught off guard by the fire. she’s probably lost in ruminations about Yen, the coming sacrifice, maybe even things that should have gone differently up to and including this moment

i got distracted and left this post for like an hour crap uhhh i guess i was done? xD

#askbox activate!#arwen does meta #tissaia de vries #yennefer #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher #netflix the witcher #Anonymous

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strawberry-skies-xx · 4 years

Text

forget the bottle

C H A P T E R T H R E E

tags: geralt / jaskier, yennefer, PTSD, post-s1e6, s1e6 fix-it, a fix-it of sorts, pyschological trauma, psychological torture, magical fuckery, mind manipulation, aftermath of psychological torture, emotional/psychological abuse, torture, nilfgaard, captured by nilfgaard, fringilla, fluff and angst, protective yennefer, yennefer ships it, idiots in love, love confessions, happy ending, solitary confinement

author’s note: scheduled tuesdays + thursdays

main masterlist | story on ao3 | next chapter >>

Jaskier woke up yet again, and this time he noticed the hunger pains stabbing at his stomach - mainly because of the smell of warm bread coming from next to him. He looked over to his right, and yeah, there was a plate of warm bread and a glass of ice water sitting on the rough wood of the table next to his bed. It made his mouth water just looking at it; he picked up the plate and took a bite quickly, almost moaning when he tasted it.

“Don’t eat too quickly.”

Jaskier looked up to see the sorceress sitting in a chair several feet away from his bed, one eyebrow raised and her legs crossed beneath her elegant black dress. Her violet eyes bored into his, much too similar to the way Fringilla looked at him like he was a bug pinned on a board, making him unsettled. He gave a short nod, though, taking her advice and slowing down despite how much he wanted to devour the bread.

He was halfway through the water when the door burst open and a blur of blue came bouncing in, followed by the Witcher in his black armor. The blue, he found out when she finally slowed down, was a girl, around 12 years old, he thought, with peculiar white-blonde hair.

“Yennefer!” she said, and her voice struck something deeper inside Jaskier. She seemed familiar too - she gave him the feeling of sitting beside a fireplace, singing softly. Memories of her were even older than memories of the Witcher and the sorceress, but he had no inclination whatsoever to unlock the door for either.

The girl went over to the sorceress, who he assumed was Yennefer, and wrapped her arms around her. Yennefer returned the hug, and the girl soon pulled back. There was a smile on Yennefer’s face, which brought a strange sense of surprise to Jaskier. Somehow, he knew that Yennefer didn’t smile often.

“How was hunting?” she asked.

The girl frowned. “Didn’t go well. Geralt kept scaring off all the prey,” she said teasingly, throwing a glance over her shoulder to the Witcher.

The Witcher - Geralt, Jaskier assumed, and the name brought on a whole slew of distant emotions and images he didn’t even know he had for the name - came up behind the girl. “You’re the one who jumped on my back while stalking a deer.”

The girl rolled her eyes. “You’re no fun, Geralt.”

Yennefer smirked and looked up at Geralt, who rolled his eyes and grunted before walking to the other side of the cabin.

The girl suddenly noticed Jaskier, and a wide grin broke out on her face. “Jaskier? You played at my grandmother’s court!”

Yennefer’s smirk faded, Geralt spun quickly around, and Jaskier’s eyes widened. He felt- he could remember, just a flash of an image, sitting by a fireplace with green eyes looking up at him, fingers dancing over lute strings, a voice - his voice - ringing softly in the air. Jaskier shut his eyes tightly, his whole body going taut like a bowstring. The darkness had become quite his friend lately, and in the darkness he couldn’t remember anything, in the darkness he didn’t have to speak or sing or - or whatever he did before Nilfgaard.

“Ciri, don’t bother him,” he heard distantly from the sorceress - he didn’t want to know her name anymore, it was too familiar and he wasn’t- he didn’t want that- he had been safe before all this, he had broken for Nilfgaard and he knew what they wanted-

“In, out. Jaskier. In. Out,” the Witcher’s rumble came from nearby, louder than the girl’s questions as the sorceress led her away, and he felt the Witcher’s hand run through his hair in the same rhythm he told him to breathe. Jaskier found himself following the orders - dammit, even the Witcher’s fucking voice soothed him, even on the other side of a locked door he himself put up. He couldn’t escape the memories threatening to break through, even though it was so much easier to just follow what Nilfgaard wanted, and not fight, and not be in pain-

He shook on the bed, silent tears running down his face, and didn’t protest as the Witcher pulled him into his arms and sat on the bed with Jaskier curled up in his lap. He was saying something, but Jaskier didn’t really care for what he was saying, he felt safe like he’d never been before, something from before that made him feel so cared for in the Witcher’s arms. Jaskier didn’t have the strength to fight against it.

It was at least an hour before Yennefer and the girl - Ciri, Jaskier remembered - returned to the cabin, and by that time Jaskier had stopped crying and was simply curled up with Geralt’s arms around him, blankly studying the wood grain of the wall.

Jaskier?

He flinched violently at hearing the sorceress’s voice in his mind, and Geralt’s arms tightened in surprise around him, but his answer came easily and automatically. Fringilla had always plunged him into another dream sequence when he refused to respond.

Yes?

Geralt’s voice came from above him. “Yennefer? What are you doing to him?”

Why did you flinch?

“I’m talking to him,” she said shortly.

Jaskier relaxed slightly. This was easy, this was good. She was asking questions; this was what he had broken for. He wanted to give them the information they wanted from him, so he wouldn’t be put back in that dark cell.

Fringilla talked to me in my mind too. Constantly.

What did she say?

Jaskier shivered. Geralt’s voice was angrier now. “Yennefer, stop. He doesn’t like whatever magic you’re working on him.”

Yennefer’s voice came distantly, a result of her focus on Jaskier as she spoke to him. “He’s fine. It’s the only way he’ll talk to us.”

Well, she got that right, Jaskier thought. He didn’t want to use his voice - his voice was a product of the memories beyond that door, and Fringilla had taught him that he was a burden in the past. Being quiet was better for everyone.

She said things about the Witc- Geralt. About Geralt. Jaskier paused. He didn’t want to go into specifics, because the details were about his past memories and he didn’t want those. He had been fighting against those for so long, it would be stupid to come back now when he had tried so hard to break already.

He didn’t continue, and Yennefer’s voice was slightly disappointed when it echoed in his mind next. Okay. How much did she talk to you?

Now he shuddered, and Geralt’s growl above him was low and angry. Jaskier imagined him giving one of his signature-

No. Not one of his signature glares, because Jaskier didn’t know about that. He didn’t know about the way Geralt’s golden eyes flared with anger at Yennefer specifically. That was not something he knew anymore. That was for the old Jaskier, the one who was selfish and annoying and didn’t know his place.

“Calm down, Geralt. He’s fine,” Yennefer said.

“You’re hurting him!”

Jaskier could sense her eye-roll as she replied. “Nothing he hasn’t already taken. I’m much better than Fringilla, trust me. And I’m only asking questions.”

Geralt growled again, but went silent, and then Jaskier replied. All the time. For hours on end. When I didn’t respond, she’d force me to dream and relive my past memories. She’d make me relive them anyway.

What memories?

Jaskier went silent, freezing up, and Geralt growled yet again, his tone warning. “Yennefer.”

The sorceress leaned back in her chair, and Jaskier felt her magic retreat from his mind. “Fine, fine. I won’t ask anything else.”

Geralt grunted. “Good.”

Ciri’s voice came suddenly - Jaskier had forgotten she was there. “What’s wrong with him?”

“He was hurt by Nilfgaard,” Yennefer replied. Jaskier wanted to laugh, something bitter and spiteful rising in his throat - he wasn’t just hurt by Nilfgaard. He was tortured, to the point that he broke, and locked all of his memories away. Hurt didn’t begin to describe it.

Ciri made a soft noise. “How badly? Is he okay?”

Jaskier could feel Yennefer’s eyes turn to him, and he shifted. He didn’t like the attention. “He was hurt very badly. We don’t know if he’s okay.”

Jaskier sat up, pushing out of Geralt’s arms, and the Witcher made a surprised noise, but let him go. He slid off the bed and started walking to the door - he was tired of getting so much attention after having none for so long. It made him anxious, set something restless fluttering in him.

Bathroom, he thought at Yennefer, and felt the faint wisp of her magic in acknowledgment before he left, letting the door slam behind him.

He walked forward, into the forest, and then stopped. He didn’t know why he’d come out here. All he wanted was to get away from the attention, get away from the eyes of everyone in the room. He was a bug pinned to a board, like always. An experiment, a curiosity for them to look at.

Jaskier walked listlessly into the forest, finding a large tree and sitting against it. He stared blankly at the grass and plants in front of him. What was he supposed to do now? He wanted to leave. Leave, and be anywhere but here. Fuck, that dark cell was more of a comfort now than the constant attentions of people he didn’t know, didn’t want to know, people who tried to drag up the memories he worked so hard to bury. There was a reason he buried those memories, and for this - this Witcher, and a sorceress, to try to drag them up-

Jaskier buried his head in his knees and closed his eyes. The darkness welcomed him, like an old friend, and Jaskier was all too happy to sink into it.

“Jaskier?”

He opened his eyes at the rumbling voice, sighing. The Witcher, here to drag him back, here to drag up his memories, here to bring back someone Jaskier hated. Geralt didn’t care about Jaskier now, he thought. He cared about the Jaskier he knew, the Jaskier who sang and spoke and was loud and selfish and- and annoying and a burden. Jaskier just wanted to be left alone, before they regretted bringing him back and tried to break him again.

He looked up, blinking against the light, and met concerned golden eyes looking down on him. Something in Jaskier couldn’t fight against that look, and that something was what allowed Geralt to pick Jaskier up and carry him back to the cabin. Jaskier made a soft noise, displeased with the world, but he figured this wasn’t so bad - he curled into Geralt’s chest, burying his face into the armor. The darkness there was somehow warmer, somehow safe, and smelled strongly like leather and sword oil.

They got back to the cabin and Jaskier had looped his arms around Geralt’s neck. He clung tighter when Geralt tried to put him down, and heard Yennefer’s laugh ring out from his right.

He wanted to stay with Geralt, stay caged in his strong arms. It reminded him of his confinement, but it wasn’t so cold. It was more comforting, especially with the scent of leather in his nose, and he didn’t know how to communicate it.

Yennefer, he thought. There was no response for several seconds, and he tried again. Yennefer.

Geralt was sitting in his bed now, and Jaskier curled up on his lap, head resting against his chest and arms looped around his neck. Geralt removed his arms from Jaskier and he made a discontented noise. Dammit, Yennefer.

Now her magic brushed against his mind. What?

Tell him to- to hold me. Tightly. Please.

Yennefer made a surprised noise, and Jaskier could imagine her eyebrow raise. “He wants you to hold him tightly, Geralt,” she said reluctantly.

He felt Geralt’s arms slowly wrap back around him, which was- good, but it was too freeing. He squirmed slightly and Geralt’s arms fell away instantly, like he’d been burned- he sighed. Yennefer. I want him to cage me. I don’t want to move, or see, or- any of this. Pin me down if he has to. Just don’t let me go.

Another soft, surprised noise. “Geralt.”

“What is it?” His voice was concerned, and Jaskier had the thought that he would have to give up the safe feeling of Geralt’s arms in order to get what he wanted. A corner would do, he supposed. Maybe there were ropes somewhere, and a blindfold. He just didn’t want to move, the world was too much right now and he thought he’d go insane if he had to keep being in control. It was easy with Nilfgaard, he wasn’t in control and he knew what they wanted.

“He wants you to pin him down. Cage him, he said. He doesn’t want to move, or see,” Yennefer said, and Jaskier felt Geralt tense above him. He sighed - he wouldn’t be able to get what he wanted within the safety of Geralt’s arms.

Tie me up then, Yen. He won’t do it. Just ropes and a blindfold, please.

He didn’t know how the nickname slipped out, but it seemed familiar to him, though strange in his voice, as if he’d only ever heard someone else call her that. He didn’t want to analyze that now, though - the whole point of this was losing control.

And, now he felt Geralt’s arms wrapping around him again, but this time they tightened and Jaskier squirmed. He didn’t budge, Jaskier couldn’t move much with the way Geralt’s legs bracketed his as they were pulled up against his body, his arms pinned Jaskier’s to his sides, and finally he relaxed. He turned his head into Geralt’s armor, inhaling the scent of leather and sword oil and getting the overwhelming feeling of safety from the warm darkness.

He hummed softly, feeling his mind go blank finally, and closed his eyes. This was preferable, he thought distantly. Not being in control, not being able to move, or see. It settled something restless in Jaskier, something that had awoken ever since he broke for Nilfgaard.

He didn’t know how long he was there, but there was a pleasant buzzing in his mind by the time Geralt shifted and disturbed the trance he was in. He made a soft noise of displeasure, frowning as Geralt tried pushing him off gently.

He tried to move, to wrap himself around the Witcher, but whatever headspace he was in had made his limbs lazy and he couldn’t do anything more than whine. Geralt grunted as he carefully extracted himself and let Jaskier lean against the pillow, light burning behind his eyelids and altogether too free for his comfort.

Yennnneefer, he thought sleepily. Noooo…

Geralt’s footsteps were quiet, but the wood floor creaked and the door slammed as he left wordlessly. Jaskier flinched at the loud noise, and frowned, feeling his awareness slowly return to him against his will. Yennefer, can you… tie me up and blindfold?

There was a long pause, though her magic brushed against his mind, and Jaskier didn’t think she would accept, but her voice, though reluctant, came to his mind. Fine. But we won’t need ropes.

Use them, he thought instantly. They feel more real. I don’t know what’s real all the time.

Somewhere along the way, he’d decided this wasn’t a dream, but he could never be sure.

Another long pause. Fine.

Jaskier curled up in the fetal position, trying to stop his awareness from coming back to him. He was so close to falling back into that blissful darkness, so close to escaping from the world and his memories and everything. Jaskier would live in that darkness if he could, live where only Nilfgaard needed him and he wasn’t in control, he didn’t have to make the decisions.

Minutes later, he felt magic ghost against his skin, and Yennefer’s presence behind him. “I’m going to need you to take off your clothes if you want this to work properly.”

Jaskier hummed. He couldn’t care either way - he just wanted to fall again. Yennefer took it as affirmation and cold air suddenly blew across his bare skin. Jaskier thought it felt a lot like the cold of his cell.

Magic skimmed his skin, followed by the ropes curling around him, and Jaskier sighed softly, feeling them tighten and pin him in the position he was in. He pushed against them once Yennefer finished, relishing in the slight pain that brought, telling him it wasn’t a dream. This was real, and as the blindfold settled over his eyes and tied around his head, he could already feel himself sinking into that pleasant daze.

Jaskier relaxed into the bed, once Yennefer pulled the blanket over him, and let himself fall.

Geralt wanted to hit something.

He had just- he’d just basically pinned Jaskier down because the damn bard wanted it, and he was so- so traumatized and broken by whatever Nilfgaard had done to him that being forced to stay in one position was more comforting than being free. Geralt had certainly heard of submitting like that, but that was for sexual pleasure, not because- because whatever fucked up reason made it okay for Geralt to immobilize Jaskier like that.

And the way he had just sunk into it, as if he trusted him when he didn’t even recognize him, it unsettled something in Geralt. The whole situation was so wrong, but Geralt couldn’t do anything to fix it, not immediately, and that was what angered him most. He wanted to fix it, wanted Jaskier to see that what he was doing to him wasn’t okay. Fuck, what he was doing to himself wasn’t okay.

He growled and pushed himself off the wall, turning and opening the door, letting it slam behind him as he walked in. Yennefer gave him a sharp, reproachful look, her violet eyes moving to Jaskier, who was laying still beneath the blankets, breathing and heart rate slow and even.

Geralt frowned, seeing the hint of something black beneath the blankets, and he walked forward, gently pulling aside the blankets - and froze.

Jaskier didn’t have clothes on, black ropes crisscrossed his skin, and Geralt could see the red marks they left in the creamy color. Some part of Geralt pulsed with want - fuck, he’d wanted the bard for so long, and this was the worst kind of temptation. He wanted to touch, and take - and, he realized with horror, Jaskier wouldn’t even refuse him in his current state.

The other part pulsed with anger, and he set the blanket back down over Jaskier before turning to Yennefer, golden eyes ablaze with silent fury.

Her voice entered his mind, harsh. He wanted it. Don’t blame me. You’re the one who left, so he asked me.

Geralt resisted the growl rising in his throat, and simply turned and followed the close scent of Ciri, walking outside and finding her sitting against a tree, reading. He needed to talk to her, do something that didn’t remind him of the torture Jaskier had endured at the hands of Nilfgaard, because he’d yelled at him on that damned mountain.

He sat down next to Ciri, who looked up at him as he approached. “What are you reading?”

Ciri grinned. “Yennefer gave me a book on magic and alchemy. It’s really interesting. Did you know that alchemy could be used to make explosive potions?”

Geralt frowned. Yennefer was not helping with the task of teaching Ciri; the girl caused enough mischief as it was and giving her a book on how to make explosive potions was not the way to rein her in. He hoped she didn’t use the knowledge in that book; he couldn’t take it away from her or she’d know that it was something he didn’t want her to do, which would only make her more inclined to do it.

He hummed in response, mentally planning to talk to Yennefer about this, and Ciri’s grin faded. She looked at Geralt with emerald eyes that had far too much knowledge in them - eyes that had seen too much for her age. “Geralt, will Jaskier get better? And don’t lie. I want to know the truth. What really happened to him? Why doesn’t he remember me, or you?”

Geralt sighed. Ciri was far too smart for her own good; there was no way he was getting out of this one. Figures, he went to her to get away from the reminder of what he’d just had to do to Jaskier because of the torture, and now he was being asked about it.

“Nilfgaard took him, and they hurt him a lot,” he said carefully. He didn’t want to reveal too much; his job was to raise Ciri as a child in a safe, caring environment, not add on to the horrors she’d witnessed. “He locked away his memories so they couldn’t hurt him with them.”

Ciri frowned, glancing down, face thoughtful. “He said he wanted to be held tightly. I heard Yennefer say it. Why?”

Now Geralt frowned, again. He didn’t know how Ciri heard that, but he supposed Yennefer had told her she could read outside just before he came in with Jaskier. That would be the only way she’d have known - and Geralt really wished she hadn’t. This was a mess, all of it, and explaining things to Ciri in a simpler, yet still comprehensive manner, was difficult.

“They kept him in a dark cell, and he got used to it.”

He turned to Ciri, now serious, and she looked up at him, sensing the change in mood and listening to what he said. “Ciri, the Jaskier you know isn’t there right now,” he said firmly, but softly. “Whatever he did, he doesn’t remember any of it. You can’t be too loud, or you’ll scare him,” he continued, as gently as he could tell a kid that the bard who’d probably played songs to her when she was younger didn’t remember her at all, and was actually quite traumatized. “He won’t talk to you, not until we get him to bring his memories back. Be nice to him.”

Ciri nodded and leaned back against the tree, beginning to shred a leaf in her fingers. “His singing was nice,” she said sadly. “He used to come up to me at banquets and pull me out onto the dance floor, and we’d dance and he’d sing. He let me sing, once. It was terrible, but he smiled and told me it was great, and I didn’t really care whether it was terrible then. He didn’t care about my crown, didn’t treat me like I was fragile.”

Geralt leaned himself back against the tree, right next to Ciri. “He was something,” he admitted quietly.

If only we can get him back, he thought to himself.

author’s note: so, the reason why he won’t come back is why he broke. he broke to get rid of pain, so why would he want to come back after that? he’s also scared that they’ll regret it and try to break him again, which will be a whole lot more unnecessary pain if he never comes back in the first place.

#the witcher netflix #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier

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rhinedottir-yennefer · 4 years

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Oh, that ask thingy I was so happy I got tagged in and never got to fill in!

You thought. Well guess what! Today imma gonna fill in the ask questions I got from @advena87 (thank you again for challenging me!) But since I’m a book reader - and I also think my follows and followers should be more encouraged to post book stuff - I’m gonna try and fill in as book content-y as I can. Here we go! Skellige Isles or the continent?

I love the continent, especially Lyria, Rivia & Dol Blathana, but this is definitely gonna be Skellige for me. I love how raw and unbiased people are over there. They also provide equal rights to women. Which I think is far more developed than one would think when it comes to the Skellige Isles.

Velen or Toussaint?

This is going to be Toussaint for me. Not because of the visionairy (which is, btw, flawless in TW3-B&W) but because in the books we spend a good chunk of the story there, and we really get to know how society and the monarch works.

Novigrad or Beauclair?

I would definitely say “the centre of the world” Novigrad. The “free city” Novigrad. It’s so lively there, everyone finds the business they need. But I also like the dark side of it. The beggars, the sewers, the crying Eternal Fire zealots.

Sleeping at Corvo Bianco or meditating under a tree?

This is gonna be meditating & sleeping under a tree, simply because there’s no “Corvo Bianco” in the books. I really loved that ending, for me though Geralt stayed on the path.

Inns or Brothels?

Inns have such nicer ahmosphere. I love the candlelit chandeliers, the cheap beer, the people giving you various looks. Music! Geralt always has a nice meal whenever he goes to an inn. I wish that for him.

Caves or Ruins?

There’s not much caves in the books, ruins however, plenty. Ruins.

High or low difficulty?

I guess noone prepared me for the emotional trauma that was the battle at Stygga, so high?

Going back to old save: yay or nay?

I have a bookmark.

Mods: yay or nay?

Sadly I can’t apply any filters to books, but the good thing is I don’t have to! I have imagination to help me.

Mini-map or no mini-map?

I did actually use a map of the continent while I was reading. I marked the route each of the main characters took.

Roach or Fast travel?

Roach, because she’s the best friend to Geralt when there’s no Jaskier/Dandelion(/Kökörcsin) around.

Roads or Boats?

There was always something bad going on when Geralt got on a boat, so... Roads.

Specters or Relicts?

Ooh, I love an old type leshen. And godlings. And dopplers. And czorts. Definitely a relict girl here! o/

Beasts or Hybrids?

I would say hybrids. Especially sirens and succubi.

Necrophages or Vampires?

Vampires all the way! You didn’t think I would forget about our best boy Regis, ya? (B&W vampires are awesome too, Orianna is an all-time favourite of mine)

Orgroids or Elementa?

Since there’s not much ogroid in the books, I would definitely go with the elementa, because of djinns & genies.

Draconids or Cursed Ones?

Draconids! At least we get quite a few in the books! The cursed ones Geralt meet in the saga he doesn’t kill, rather turn them back to normal.

The Caretaker or the Crones?

I loved the Crones! Chilling & ruthless, but very well written characters. And their boss theme is absolute bop.

Botchlings or spotted Wights?

Spotted wights, I guess.

Godlings or Trolls?

Godlings are kind of adorable.

Sirens or Harpies?

Sirens, please and thank you.

Killing or sparing?

Depends on the situation. With Vilgefortz? Kill any day. Renfri? Protect at all costs.

Dijkstra or Roche?

As much as I love Vernon Roche, I must aknowledge the fact he’s not a book character so Dijkstra all the way.

Vesemir or Crach an Craite?

I really loved Crach even in the books, from a young chap (at Pavetta’s 15th birthday) to someone who even woo’d Yen xD I think the Witcher 3 gave him a worthy-mighty route to embrace. Shame he had to go so early.

Eskel or Lambert?

I was always more fond of Eskel’s quiet and composed manner. He’s like a true brother to Geralt.

Keira or Philippa?

Philippa all the way. I just really love characters involved in intrigues by choice, and when it comes to the Lady Owl, she’s like the absolute queen.

Cerys or Hjalmar?

Ok so, this is difficult, because Cerys was not in the books, unlike Hjalmar. But I really liked what they did with them in TW3 and how they did it, and I don’t even feel like they’ve overwritten the canon or anything. I always felt like Cerys’ calm composed manner and playing on the safe side attitude would ensure Skellige would survive. Even if they’re not going down in history as great invaders or warriors.

Syanna or Anarietta?

Since Syanna was not in the books, but even if she was, I wouldn’t like her, I have to go with Annarietta who’s been the brattiest, sassiest and most spoiled young princess in the books. But that didn’t stop me from liking her. Yen or Triss?

Yennefer is the queen of this story. I get where the game Triss likers are coming from, but since I’m here to spread book awesomeness, where she’s been the absolute worst (and not even a proper love interest to Geralt [even Fringilla was a longer relationship to him!]) this wasn’t a hard choice at all. Yennefer is the best for Geralt.

Ciri or Geralt?

I’ve always been genuinely more immersed in Geralt’s side of the story, talking strictly about books, than Ciri’s.

Regis or Dettlaff?

Regis. Never gonna com a time when I don’t pick Regis.

Olgierd von Everec or Gaunter O’Dimm?

Olgierd, I guess. I can definitely see someone like him in the books.

Olgierd von Everec or Iris von Everec?

Iris deserved better.

Shani or Dandelion?

Ok so, there’s no witcher without Dandelion/Jaskier/Kökörcsin, and I absolutely love this bloody Casanova, but, strictly speaking in book context, Shani doesn’t get the recognition she deserves. She’s really complex and been through a lot. Our bard has too, true, but he’s more like the comic relief of the saga.

Johnny or Sarah?

Sarah!

Sorceresses or Witchers?

Sorceresses. I guess. Life is much more easier if you’re a sorceress.

Druids or the local holy man?

Druids all the way! Especially those of Skellige! My king Mousesack . I love him.

Food or Swallow?

Swallow. Not gonna use it though, but this one’s closer to the book canon.

Decoctions or Potions?

Potions is on the canon side.

Hunting for diagrams or finding them per chance?

Finding them by chance, I guess. Book Geralt has no time to hunt diagrams amidst all this canon shitstorm xD

Saving coin or spending coin?

Saving.

Looting or buying?

I guess looting is more on the canon side here.

Upsetting the guards or following the rules?

Never upset the guards.

Igni or Axii?

Axii!

Yrden or Aard?

Yrden!

Signs or blade oils?

Signs!

Crossbow or fists?

Crossbow is more book canon I guess.

Settling down or staying on the path?

Book Geralt doesn’t like staying put, so staying on the path.

Gwent Cards or Swords?

Gwent cards.

Beard or no beard?

No beard. It’s canon. “Puss Peepers” or “Mutant”?

I have never in my book reading journey read Puss Peepers. Mutant, however... Hey! Thank you very much again for the callout, @advena87 and I hope everyone who actually read through that abominatin enjoyed my answers. And that they weren’t too book-posh. If yes, I’d say I’m sorry, but really I’m not. K BYE

#answered ask #Witcher #witcher 3 #witcher netflix #Yennefer of Vengerberg #jaskier #dandeion #dandelion #geralt #geralt of rivia #ciri #cirilla fiona elen riannon #mousesack #crach an craite #andrzej sapkowski #netflix

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