#There's a bard lose in Kaer Morhen

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 58

@saiaisaiko and I were talking in the comments of one of my earlier prompts, and they really inspired me to make this prompt, so all the love to them, thanks for being my muse ;P Geralt has known right from the start that Jaskier is human. A mortal. Before Geralt will even know, he'll die. So Geralt eventually does relent and admit they're best friends, but he will NEVER give in to his feelings of love for the bard. He shoves it all down and away. Geralt will not fall in love with something he's going to lose. He wouldn't survive it. He already knows he'll never be the same after Jaskier leaves, he won't be able to keep going if he knows what it's like to love and be loved with Jaskier. He watches as Jaskier gets too old for following along the path, and then too old to work, and then too old to live. Geralt cries as he holds Jaskier's hand as Jaskier lays in his death bed. Geralt was... Broken. To be honest. Trudging on with life in an emotionless haze, not really remembering anything or truly caring, Geralt finally makes it to Winter, going back to Kaer Morhen and holing himself up in his room for the most part. The only time he leaves his room for anything but retrieving food to bring back to said room is when he hears his brothers shouting in shock and horror. Geralt races to the courtyard where they are, only to see the impossible. A man with wings made of fire flies down into the courtyard, gracefully. And Geralt knows the man. He looks like Jaskier. But Jaskier from their first year together in Posada. He's young. He's alive, and young. Jaskier folds his wings in and takes a step closer, opening his mouth to say something, but Geralt can't even hesitate. He races forward and kisses Jaskier roughly. Perhaps a romance between them wasn't as impossible as he had first thought. ♡!Optional addons!♡ • Jaskier also had no idea he was a phoenix until he emerged from a pile of ash looking 18 again • Jaskier DOES know he's of phoenix blood, and tries to tell Geralt such on his death bed, only to die before he can get it out. He words it as him revealing a big secret, and Geralt misunderstands and assumes Jaskier was about to tell him that Jaskier loves him. (And yes, Jaskier DOES, but really, he thought that wasn't a secret.) • Jaskier was CONVINCED Geralt already knew (How could he not?) and is just so bewildered that Geralt was/is sad and disbelieving when Jaskier first shows up. I mean, why wouldn't Jaskier choose Geralt for his other lifetimes as well? Did he have to go so far? It took forever for Jaskier to catch up and find him on the damn mountain!

#“Ill go to bed early tonight” #vs #me doomscrolling all night #geraskier #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #witcher fanfiction #fanfiction prompts #geralt x dandelion #geralt loves his bard! #writing prompts #requited unrequited love #friends to lovers #nonhuman jaskier #inhuman jaskier #creature jaskier #Phoenix jaskier #phoenix #immortal jaskier #sad with a happy ending #angst with a happy ending #HAPPY ENDING #HAPPY ENDINGS ONLY

[gothiethefairy]

concept

geralt chilling with his brothers one night at kaer morhen, having a couple of drinks

he drunkingly admits he and jaskier made out once. lambert, who likes to start up some shit, jokingly asks if "the bard is a better kisser than the witch."

it's quiet among the three until geralt shyly mutters "yes." eskel and lambert start losing their minds, laughing their asses off.

somewhere else, jaskier sneezes and rubs his nose.

#gothie's headcanons #the witcher #geraskier #kaer morons

[starfirewildheart]

Chapter 3

The Wolf and the Flame

Summary: Geralt had just found Ciri and was headed to Kaer Morhen when something drew him into the woods. He found a woman near death and things changed for them all. (I suck at summaries just read please!) Yennefer is bad in the start of this but she and Geralt work on their friendship. Eskel is a dick at first but there is a reason and it works out. Will have a happy ending. Ciri is younger here than in the netflix show. She is about 12.

Warnings: abuse history, injuries, hurt comfort, no one under 18 to be safe, will add when I need to 

Words: 1717

They had been traveling for nearly a week. Naurel was getting stronger but Geralt was still worried. He knew something was not as it should be with her but he couldn't seem to get her to open up about the things that had happened. They came to the last city between them and the final part of the journey to Kaer Morhen. He knew they had to stop and restock supplies. Also, the humans needed a soft bed and warmth for a bit. They left the horses at the stable and walked over to the Inn. Naurel was leaning against him, holding his arm to help support herself or for his warmth, he wasn’t sure which. All he knew was that he didn’t mind it. In fact, he felt at peace when they were touching. 

Ciri heard someone singing inside the bar at the inn and bound up the steps. “It’s Jaskier,” she said excitedly. 

“Ciri,” Gerault sighed as she ran inside ahead of him. “Damn it that girl never listens.” He and  Naurel moved faster to catch up with her. Once inside Geralt grabbed Ciri’s arm and leaned close, whispering something to her that made her shiver and look repentant before he led her and Naurel to a table to sit. “Stay here where I can see you both while I get us a couple of rooms.” 

Naurel waited until he walked away to put her hand on Ciri’s arm that was resting on the table. “You are going to get hurt or end up making him so angry that he’s going to punish you.”

Ciri rolled her eyes. “Please, he’s not my father. I have no family which makes me an adult. I’m in charge of me.”

“You are far from an adult little miss and you are showing that childishness more and more by the day,” Naurel warned. “He cares about you. He worries about you. Stop making it harder for him.” She knew that Geralt was struggling to figure out how to deal with a child. He knew how to deal with a misbehaved witcher but not a young human girl so he just took what she dished out. The yelling, arguing, not listening, stubbornness that she likely got away with as a spoiled little princess and Naurel was losing patients with her. Ciri was a loving girl but she was being a huge brat. She looked up at Geralt as he sat heavily in a chair beside her, noting that he put himself where his back would be up against the wall. “Everything alright?”

He nodded. “Got two rooms with an adjoining door,” he eyed Ciri, “and a large tub.” He grinned when Naurel sighed happily. 

“Mmm, a bath sounds heavenly. Maybe if I boil myself I will actually heat my blood and stop having to steal your warmth,” she smiled at him. 

He reflexively pulled her close. “I don’t mind sharing warmth.”

Ciri made a slight gagging sound drawing their attention. “You two need to get a room.”

“We have a room. Two in fact,” Geralt smirked at her. He loved their teasing banter when she wasn’t driving him mad with worry. Naurel was listening to the two of them and jumped when someone plopped down in a chair near her at the end of the table.

“Geralt you gorgeous beast, who are you lovely friends?”

Geralt shook his head and sighed. “Jaskier,” he nodded in greeting. He let Naurel and Ciri introduce themselves though kept his arm possessively around Naurel. Jaskier was a friend but he was also amorous and for some reason that bothered him where his newest companion was concerned.

“How did two such lovely creatures end up with such a grumpy, silent companion?” Jaskier wondered. 

“He’s not silent nor grumpy,” you smiled at the bard. 

“He’s grumpy and bossy,” Ciri teased. 

The waitress approached and Geralt ordered food for the three of them before joining the conversation. “I’m surprised to find you this far north this close to the snowy season.  I know you hate cold weather.”

“You are right,” Jaskier chuckled. “Oddly enough I’ve been looking for you. You are a very hard witcher to find. You would think with the white hair, yellow eyes, and rippling muscles that you would stand out more.” Naurel chuckled.

“Jaskier,” Geralt grumbled, stopping the bard from babbling. “Why were you looking for me? Is everything alright?” 

“A friend, no, no she’s not a friend she’s a,” he stopped himself before he finished his thought. “Someone we have in common needs to speak with you. She’s rather insistent and very annoying and she keeps following me. I implore you, please speak to her before I throw myself off a cliff.”

Geralt paused as if he was considering the option of speaking to someone or letting him jump, only answering when Jaskier whined indignantly. He had an idea of who the bard was talking about but he wondered why she just didn’t come to him herself. He’d heard that she survived the battle of Sodden from Triss and he was happy to hear his friend was still alive. “Is she here?”

“I’m here,” Yennefer said from behind him. “We need to speak, alone,” she looked at the others pointedly. 

He nodded and stood. “Jaskier, stay with them until I return?”

“Of course,” he smiled as he started asking both of them questions.

Yennefer led Geralt to an out-of-the-way corner near the stairs. She noticed that he positioned himself so that he could still see the table. “I need your help. Something has happened. I’ve searched everywhere, through all the lore about magic and chaos except the books at Kaer Morhen.”

“What are you searching for?”

“A spell,” she lied. “I am searching for a spell to try and help Istredd study the monoliths.” She wasn’t going to expose her weakness to anyone. It was bad enough that the old woman was in her head calling to her, telling her to bring both the woman and the girl to her; she wasn’t about to tell him she had lost her ability to do magic as well.

“Why doesn’t that ring true to me?” Geralt gave her a look.

“Fine, don’t help me,” she hissed and started to walk away.

“Yennefer,” he stopped her. “Portal to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir is willing to work with sorceresses and mages. He will show you the books you are looking for.”

“Why don’t we just travel together?” she asked. “Seems like you seem to be gathering a rather large party on your journey,” she eyed his new friends. “I could help you look after them. They both seem sort of defenseless.”

He could use some help protecting them since Ciri seemed to be so dead set on getting herself hurt. Maybe with Yennefer’s magic, he could actually rest a bit. “You want to travel, on foot, in the cold. You know it will be snowing soon?”

“Please witcher, the weather does not bother me,” she scoffed and walked back to the group at the table. She made sure to place herself next to Naurel where Geralt had been. Jealousy made her blood boil when she noticed how Geralt looked at the woman. The witcher and his new child suprise were supposed to be her family, not this woman's. She was tired of life screwing her over and giving everyone else what was rightfully hers.

Geralt frowned but sat next to Ciri. “Yennefer has decided to join us for the rest of our journey home.” Naurel looked into his eyes in question but didn’t speak, Jaskier however did.

“I’m going to then,” he insisted.

“I thought you wanted to be rid of her?” Geralt asked.

“Rid of me?” Yennefer scoffed. “I saved your life.”

“No, you distracted him so I could run. That’s not saving me, that's being a tease,” Jaskier argued. Ciri laughed at the two of them.

Their food was served and Naurel picked a small piece off of her bread and ate it as she listened to Jaskier tell stories of his time with Geralt. The bard was funny and he had kind eyes. She liked him. She could see how he would get on Geralt’s nerves though with his knack for babbling and Geralt being stoic and quiet.

‘The redhead! Bring the red head’ the deathless mother screamed in her head over and over. It was becoming hard to ignore but she pushed it to the back of her mind and continued on with the conversation. “Awe you left out the story of how the three of us met,” Yennefer interjected. “All bloody and dying because of the Djinn. Geralt, ever the protector, riding in to find me to save you.” She saw the muscles in Geralt’s jaw flex as he clenched his teeth.

“Well, he ended up saving you too,” Jaskier snapped. “More than saving you if I remember correctly.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt sighed.

The bard looked up and quickly realized he’d said too much. “But he came to his senses!”

She closed the door behind her before laying on the bed next to her friend. “He thought she was dead,” she explained softly. She wanted to be sure she knew Geralt had not intentionally tried to hurt her though Ciri never realized that Yennefer and Geralt were mates.

“I know,” her voice choked as she lost her battle with her tears. “It’s my fault,” she repeated to herself more than Ciri. She took the comfort Ciri offered and allowed the young girl to play with her hair before she ran over to the chamber pot and vomited.

Wolf and flame tag list

@kneelforloki

@shellyshellshell

#geralt x reader #henry cavill #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fanfic

[wren-of-the-woods]

I hear you're where to go for Witcher fic recs! How about some with Geralt being protective over Jaskier? Shippy, if you can find any, but I wouldn't mind platonic! I just want Geralt to look out for his bard. Thank you for your time!

Hello!! Here's what I've got! There's a wide variety of settings and levels of angst, so hopefully there should be something for everone :D

As always, please feel free to add more recs or promote your own work in the notes!

~

Don't Leave Me by @geraskierficrecs (Rated M, 6.2k)

Jaskier’s hands tighten around Geralt before slowly losing their grip, spasming where they fall limp. “Ger--geralt--” “Don’t you dare,” he snarls back, “Don’t you dare try to give me your fucking goodbyes. You are not dying.” “S--silly man.” Jaskier’s smile is full of painful fondness. “Would you fight death for me?” Geralt swings him up into his arms and nearly weeps at the sound of familiar hooves running in his direction. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

If You Give a Bard a Lute by @ghostinthelibrarywrites (Rated T, 10k)

After Jaskier’s father disowns him, confiscates all his possessions— including Filavandrel’s lute— and kicks him out with nothing but the clothes on his back, Jaskier spends a long, hungry winter barely surviving. When he reunites with Geralt in the spring, his witcher is determined to get his lute back, even if it means recruiting his fellow witchers to stage a heist.

Wild Blue Yonder by @jaskierswolf (Rated T, 5.3k)

Geralt's bookshop is slowly falling apart and he's ready to give up when Jaskier wanders into the store

remember me I sing by @echo-bleu (Rated G, 3.1k - also includes Yennnefer)

Filavandrel's gift was so much more than a simple lute. It seemed fitting, that Jaskier’s soul would be made of wood and strings and beautiful sounds. The problem is that now Rience has his lute and is threatening to burn it if they don't hand over Ciri. And Jaskier has never told anyone that his very life is tied to his beloved instrument.

This Is How I Disappear by @stacyholmes (Rated T, 5.4k)

Jaskier keeps texting unknown number. Geralt keeps reading said texts without answering.

The Footsteps We Follow by thiswildheart (Rated T, 16.5k)

Look, Jaskier's got a lot going on. He's painfully aware that there are cataclysmic events happening and that the troubled teenager he knows might save the world or speed along the end of days. He's also in love with a man who's never even admitted that they're friends, which is almost as bad. Oh, and he's still working as the Sandpiper, only now a terrifying eldritch creature has entrusted him with the Song of the Seven to give hope to the elves and help them fight back against their oppression. It's probably the bravest thing he's ever done, but not everyone sees it that way. Luckily he knows some people who excel at last minute rescues. ... then he just has to figure out how to tell Geralt why so many people are trying to kill him. This is going to go great.

Getting Warmer (orphaned) (Rated T, 8.2k) 

Injured and freezing after a kikimora hunt gone wrong, Geralt and Jaskier must wait out a thunderstorm at the bottom of a cliff, huddling for warmth. It is here that Geralt finally confronts his feelings for the bard.

Jaskier and Mountains Just Don't Mix by C4t1l1n4 (Rated G, 3.8k)

Despite the other Witchers' positive reaction to Geralt's bard, Vesemir is reluctant to have a human stay with them at Kaer Morhen so Jaskier attempts to leave and ends up almost freezing to death on the side of the mountain. Hypothermia fic

Immediately, I Love Him (He's Doing His Best) by @hum-my-name (Rated G, 26.5k)

"In which Greg is some sort of guardian angel, I don't know" <><> A few days ago, Joey Batey did an interview in which he created a lovely little character named Greg. A few days ago, I decided to write a cute little thing about Greg and Jaskier being the best of friends throughout the years, with a dash of Geralt and Jaskier friendship as a treat. 13k words later, here we are. Enjoy.

Broken Mirror by happy_hermit (Rated G, 2.1k) 

To Geralt’s credit, he waits until they’re well away from Kaer Morhen to ask the question. He also waits until Yennefer and Ciri have gone to bed, which makes the whole thing feel a bit too calculated for Jaskier’s liking, which is to say that he doesn’t like it at all. “Where’s your lute, Jaskier?” Jaskier doesn’t quite flinch, though his heart does something of the sort all on its own. It is very much a wound that hasn’t healed; as is most of him, these days.

Echo by @kingthunder (Rated E, 29.5k)

Jaskier loses his voice the morning after a concert. As he and Geralt find new ways to fill the silence between them, they realize it isn't only Jaskier's voice that's been lost—and getting it back will bring them closer than they've ever been before.

If There's Any Sleep At Night by @smolalienbee (Rated T, 22.8k)

The mare is but a silhouette of a human and yet at his words something passes through her expression - whether it’s surprise, joy, fear, Geralt doesn’t know. But it’s clear that what he said has struck her in some way. (“She is not some mindless monster, Geralt.” He remembers Jaskier’s words.) A mare, also known as a mara or a zmora - a malicious entity, a bringer of nightmares and a demon of the night. An easy enough contract to fulfill, if only frustrating, or at least that’s what Geralt believes when he first sets out to hunt down one such mare. What he doesn’t expect is to be wrapped up in a tale of a wronged soul, of love and of joy.

Also, because I'm not above reccing my own fics, here's a few I've written!

Wash Away the Blood and Tears by me (Rated T, 1.8k)

Jaskier re-injures his fingers while distracting Nilfgaard from Ciri. Afterward, Geralt volunteers to help wash his hair. Or: In which Jaskier gets a bath and a nap, and Geralt gets a new role in the group.

We'll Build a Den Out of Pillows (And Get Drunk Again) by me (Rated G, 2k)

Jaskier gets sick. When Geralt asks how to help, Jaskier jokingly suggests that he build a pillow fort. He does not expect Geralt to take it seriously. Geralt takes it seriously.

~

If you want more, there’s a Protective Geralt tag on AO3 that I’m sure has many lovely works I haven’t read!

(You can also find my other reclists here)

#wren recs #geraskier #geralt #jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fic recs #witcher #reclists #twn #asks #anon #am i getting a reputation? how fun! #i guess y'all are catching onto the fact that i have no self-restraing when it comes to reclists lol

[hannibard]

I started posting my first multichapter fanfiction and I can't stop refreshing the Ao3 page every 5 minutes to check for kudos etc. How do yall experienced writers handle this??? I feel like I'm going insane.

If you wanna check out my fic (it's geraskier) click 'keep reading'

"I'm choking from the taste but I can't help but swallow"

Summary: "There's too much at stake Geralt, it's not worth it. Go back to Kaer Morhen and forget about me."

"You're more than worth it Jaskier and I'll do anything in my power to get you out of this hell. Melitele help anyone who stands in my way."

-

Jaskier is taken by Radovid in the midst of his travels with Geralt and Milva. The Redanian king, changed from his recent ascent to power, is determined to get everything he wants, with Jaskier having the misfortune of being on top of the list. Jaskier as he spends time serving Radovid in the Redanian court, drowning in despair and losing parts of himself in the process, his only consolation being the knowledge that his friend was safe from the Redanian army due to his sacrifice.

Sometime after Geralt has united the north under his rule, he decides to pay a visit to Redania in the hope of reuniting with his bard. But Jaskier is not as he remembers, his psyche having been fractured in their time apart. Will the witcher be able to help him escape his tragic fate?

(Inspired by the song "Poison" from Hazbin Hotel)

#fanfiction #meme #text #shitpost #crack #ao3 writer #writerscommunity #wip #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #twn #the witcher #there's also radskier #but radovid isn't very nice (or at all) #whenever i get a new email i rush to ckeck if it's a comment or something #and it usually isn't 😭 #why did i have to pick now to write this when geraskier's popularity has fallen to 0.05% 😭 #(in comparison to the past) #crispy

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Trouble

Jaskier gets into trouble a lot. It's just a simple fact. The man has no sense of self-preservation.

Geralt is constantly having to save him. It's hard to make a living killing monsters when you have to constantly stop and save your Bard when he "wants a closer look at that (monster) ", or he just has to touch every mysterious object.

What do you think it is, Geralt? Oooh, it's so shiny!

Why would someone leave something like this laying around? Have you ever seen something like this before?

I wonder what this does? Do you think it's magic?

Do you think it's really old? Like a Fae artifact?

Oooh, what if it's cursed? Do you think it's cursed? I probably shouldn't be holding it if it's cursed, right?

Oh my goodness, look at that (forest animal/creature)! I have to pet it! Come here you adorable thing!

It's not friendly! It's not friendly! Run Geralt!

He just can't stop f***ing touching things! If Geralt's hair wasn't already white...

He wonders if this is what having a toddler is like. Having to constantly yeet him away from danger, stop him from touching things, and listen to hours of endless babbling.

The other Wolves just don't understand why Geralt is always dead tired when he comes home for the winter, until Lambert joins them on the Path one spring.

It's a complete nightmare.

Holy f**k, Geralt! How in the h*ll do you keep him alive all year???

They run into Eskel along the way, and he's confused as to why Lambert and Geralt both look like Tired Dads. He laughs when they point to Jaskier, who is innocently working out the words to his latest ballad, completely unaware that he is being discussed.

Eskel scoffs and joins them. It's just one Bard. How hard could he be to look after?

They end up sititng around a table at an Inn, complainig to Coen.

He tried to pet a Griffin! A f***ing Griffin!

I turned my back for five minutes, and he was trying to walk into a fairy ring!

I kept having to yank him out of the way of the Bruxa's claws because he kept trying to 'help'!

I had to stop him one night because he saw fairy lights in the woods and wanted to follow them!

I can feel my self f***ing aging!

He almost got decapitated trying to get close to a Czernobog so he could 'get a more accurate estimate of it's wingspan' for his next ballad!

We found a bar of lavender soap on a path in the woods. I told him it was obviously a Fae trap because no one just leaves a bar of soap in the middle of the d*mn woods, and this stupid f***er still tries to go pick it up! Thank Melitele that Geralt was able to grab him before he got his a** kidnapped!

You need a leash for the poor b**tard, just to keep him out of trouble!

Or just dig a deep f***ing hole and put him in it, like Vesemir used to do when he had work to do and we were too little to be left wandering loose!

The Witchers lose track of how many times the Bard has been injured over that long year. Thankfully the injuries are mostly minor.

They marvel at his resilience and durability. The man is seriously like a weed. He just keeps bouncing back!

They are so glad when it gets closer to time to return to Kaer Morhen.

But just when they think the nightmare is almost over, Jaskier goes and decides to get himself cursed.

And the bevy of Witchers ends up showing up on Yennefer's doorstep with a baby who looks very familiar.

(Y'all know there's a bonus scene for this headcanon coming! Get ready for some baby!jaskier)

#the witcher #geralt #geralt of rivia #jaskier #julian alfred pankratz #the witcher headcanon #lambert #kaer morons #geraskier #twn #the witcher netflix #eskel #coen #trouble headcanon #henry cavill

[fangirleaconmigo]

Rated Teen. Geraskier. Jaskier says I love you..

The first time Jaskier realizes that, despite appearances to the contrary, Geralt listens to him when he rambles on, he is pulling the pins from his hair and preening in the mirror.

"And then I said to him,” he rants, voice muffled from the hairpin in his mouth, “I said to him, I've written one that will have you crying and begging for your mother.” Jaskier spits out the hairpin and suddenly his voice is clear again just to utter the words, “you arrogant hack, you dickish dilettante,”

“That's Silver Winter, right?" Geralt cuts in.

Jaskier's hand stops where it is arranging a ringlet. He blinks and stares at Geralt in the mirror, as though his dear friend and object of his most passionate affection has transformed into a talking rat.

"What?" demands Geralt, sounding irritated. "Why are you looking at me like that?” Geralt’s hands idly pat down his hair and check his teeth for stray greens from lunch. It is only when he is checking his tunic for obvious stains that Jaskier clears up the mystery.

"Nothing! Nothing, Geralt. It’s just. You were listening."

Geralt rolls his eyes. "Every man, woman, and child in Posada is listening. You’re so loud you give no one a choice.”

"No,” Jaskier said slowly and thoughtfully. “I don't mean now. I mean. When I was talking earlier about that poem."

Geralt shrugs. "Yes. That's the one you wrote for the bardic competition in Gors Velen this spring. It starts off..." Geralt's eyes wander up until he is staring at the ceiling. "Right," he says, finally finding the words he is looking for. "It starts off...the cracks like frozen lightning...right?"

Jaskier slowly turns. He loses sight of Geralt in the mirror, then sees him fully as he looks at him head on. "I get to submit two poems for that competition." He says it as though he is testing the waters.

Geralt nods. "Right. The other one is A Rose Thicket." He says it as though he is reciting something well known. Something that should be obvious.

Jaskier blinks in disbelief, eyes wide with wonder and delight.

Geralt grunts. "Why are you gaping? Close your mouth or you’ll catch flies.”

Jaskier plops down on the bed next to him, head still swimming from the revelation. “I don’t know, i suppose I’m just surprised is all.”

“What because I’m old? Witchers keep their minds and memories sharp well into their third century if Vesemir is any indication. See?” Geralt clears his throat and recites again from memory. “That's the bardic competition that's being judged by Valdo's old mentor, and you don't know whether that's a point for you or against you, since Valdo fucked him and who knows what kind of mess he left behind."

Geralt startles when Jaskier leans his head on his shoulder, the remaining hairpins jingling softly.

"I love you."

Jaskier says it as though it is easy. As though it’s normal. As though anyone outside of Kaer Morhen has said that to Geralt in years.

Geralt’s heart swells painfully and he doesn’t know what to do with the feeling that he is bursting and will overflow. Impulsively, he kisses the top of Jaskier’s head, getting a stray lock of hair stuck to his lips and having to blow profusely to get it off.

Jaskier relaxes and even though Geralt cannot see his face from this angle, he can feel the smile on the bard’s face. Geralt does not know what to say, so he blurts out, “You have poor judgement."

Jaskier pinches his side and he yelps.

“I know.”

Geralt cannot hide the smile that plagues his face for the rest of the day.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #i have not been normal #since the day I read in the books #that dandelion curls his hair sometimes #sorry #but Jaskier always has curls now #i don’t make the rules #descarada writes #descarada writes geraskier #tumblr oneshots for the witcher fandom

[jeanblack2056]

Travelling to Kaer Morhen late:

I cannot help it, but I will never get tired of this trope. I love reading it, I love writing it. There's just something so captivating about characters almost freezing on their way up the Killer.

And it has so many variables too! If the character is alone, battling the snow and wind, or if there's more of them, fighting weather! The one where Jaskier is human and it's Geralt's responsibility to get him up there okay! But it's freezing and the bard's at his limits! And they have to huddle for warmth! And be careful with his hands because he cannot lose his fingers because of cold and it's not his fault that they are late again (He absolutely needed to stock up on his oils in that last town, and that autumn competition wouldn't have won itself, Geralt!)

There's that struggle of - just this tiny bit closer and I/we will be warm and safe. It's so close and yet so far. And don't get me started on when the storm comes and you can no longer really see, where you are going!

And then there's home, a fatherly hug from our dearest Vesemir who's been expecting them two weeks earlier, the other witchers to hug, hot springs and warm hearth and delicious stew...

I just really love this trope. If you have any fics like this, please, throw them at me.

#witcher #jaskier #witcher fanfiction #geralt #geraskier #witcher geralt #witcher jaskier #kaer morons #kaer morhen #vesemir #jaskier the bard

[ikeepwatchinghelicopters]

Random thought: Let's forget about show canon for a bit and just imagine that Geralt took Jaskier to Kaer Morhen after around 10 years of them travelling together (the concrete number is really not that important). It's his first winter there, so the other witchers (Eskel, Lambert, Aiden, Coen) want to mess with him a bit. One evening, when Vesemir already went to bed, all the witchers + the bard are sitting, trading stories and drinking. They are not trying to get totally wasted, so Jaskier's just drinking beer and the witchers are drinking something stronger. Geralt is relaxed, home for winter with Jaskier pressed against his side and also starting to be tipsy, so he doesn't notice that the others are secretly slipping the strong alcohol into Jaskier's drink. Jaskier also doesn't notice, because there are so many amazing witcher stories that he doesn't pay any attention to his drink. Who cares if he's getting drunk faster than expected? Geralt only notices that something is wrong when Jaskier starts slurring his words and loses most of his coordination. Since he knows Jaskier didn't drink enough to be this drunk, he suspects foul play. After a bit of glaring and growling the others confess. They still think it was a great prank and they are very pleased that they manage to pull it off this well. Geralt doesn't see it as amusing, because his protective instincts have kicked in. He has to get a very drunk Jaskier, who doesn't want to leave, back to his room. The bard probably vomits at least once before he falls asleep (bonus points for him falling asleep while cuddling Geralt, because he absolutely refused to let go, and Geralt then having to extract himself very carefully as not to wake up Jaskier). In the morning, he has the most hellish hangover of all time. He looks so miserable that the other witchers probably start to feel the slightest pangs of guilt, so they pamper him more than usual while he recovers.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #other witchers #geraskier #fic idea #i guess #random thought

[antebunny]

Witchers v administration

NOW

It’s a series of coincidences which finally tips Eskel off to the silent administrative war being waged on Kaer Morhen. 

Jaskier bursts into his office one long afternoon when Eskel is slumped over his desk, wishing that every other Witcher didn’t run away gleefully whenever he approached them about taking his job or even sharing his duties. To date they have not recruited a human with the necessary skills or trust to take a shot at stewardship for all of Kaer Morhen. Eskel supposes it would be immoral to ask about kidnapping someone else’s steward, but they’ve done worse for less.

“Hello Eskel! Do you know where Letho is?”

Eskel jerks off the desk and makes eye contact with Jaskier, who brings a bright splotch of baby blue to his drab brown and gray office. The bard beams with that typical vaguely affable air of his, expecting a response.

“Egremont,” Eskel recalls, after a moment of hard thinking. “I think. Or maybe Flotsam. With…Aubrey. Maybe.” He drops his head into his hands. “Fuck. I don’t remember. Ask Dragonfly.”

“Already tried, she’s out,” Jaskier chirps. He waves a hand around the stacks of scrolls and documents piled around Eskel’s office. “Don’t you have it written down somewhere?”

The whole idea of having joint patrols was to protect Witchers. No one can simply ambush a lone Witcher anymore. No Witcher can simply disappear for months with no one the wiser. It turns out this good idea is a bit more difficult in practice. Witchers don’t coordinate very well, you see. There’s no written record of who is on a patrol to where with whom. 

“No,” Eskel summarizes.

“Oh. Rats.” Jaskier frowns and lingers in the doorway, puzzling through other potential people to ask for whatever it is he wants to bother Letho about.

Eskel makes a mental note to see about putting together actual patrol schedules, even as he mentally cries tears of blood over the idea of coordinating hundreds of Witchers and getting all of them to follow the damn schedule. He really needs an assistant. Or a new job.

Then the patrol schedule promptly gets forgotten as Eskel gains several new crises all at once.

“Eskel! They found out about the black dye!” Cenna, their head laundress (seamstress? It’s unclear what her official job title is, everything about Kaer Morhen’s organization is unorthodox) sneaks under Jaskier’s arm and plants her hands on Eskel’s desk.

“Who found out about what?” Jaskier calls from behind them.

Cenna sweeps her honey brown hair behind her neck, picks a path to pace around the office, and explains: “The black cloth dye. There was some sort of monster that had, erm, black innards and we could never get the stains out of the clothing. Then we started dyeing cloth with it deliberately, and Vasilisa sells it in Novigrad. Ever since she quit one of your Witchers has been dropping it off with her. She sells it all in about a week. Makes a killing in the market. No one else has black dye that strong. I suppose no one else ever thought of using monster guts.”

Jaskier processes this infodump, and the implications of Cenna’s original statement, only slightly faster than Eskel. “So someone found out that it comes from Kaer Morhen?”

Instinctively, Eskel’s mind comes up with best and worst case scenarios, and whether they threaten the safety of Kaer Morhen. Best case is that someone caught a glimpse of the Witcher leaving Vasilisa with bolts of black cloth, and spreads the news. Worst case scenario is that someone’s traced the line of production all the way back to Kaer Morhen, in which case they don’t know where the leak occurred. 

“Yes! We don’t know how,” Cenna reports, confirming Eskel’s worst fears. “Vasilisa says that all of a sudden there were whispers that the black cloth came from Kaer Morhen, and it was made with the blood of virgins or other some such nonsense. Vasilisa gave everything she earned from it to us, so she is not losing a source of income, and she says that in Novigrad it is easy to stay anonymous. So she is fine. Only I worry, how did someone find out?”

That’s Eskel’s worry as well. It seems too much of a coincidence to believe that out of all the new, exotic products popping up in a huge costal city like Novigrad, the only one subject to Witcher rumors is the only product that’s actually being made in Kaer Morhen. 

“That’s not good,” Jaskier notes, a damper on his usual cheer. “Can’t you sell it somewhere else? Cidaris or Vengerberg?”

“Yes,” Eskel answers slowly, but their original problem remains unsolved. 

Somehow, somewhere, someone discovered that the black cloth sold in Novigrad’s markets is made in the home of the Witchers. Eskel can’t even begin to fathom how that can be used against them. Jaskier is a perfect example of how the humans’ blind fear and desperation to get one of their own inside Kaer Morhen makes them stupid. 

Quietly, Eskel sets aside the matter of the patrol schedules. He’ll have to focus on this black cloth dye issue until–

“Eskel, a problem!” 

For the third time that afternoon, someone barges into Eskel’s office with a problem. It’s Triss, her curly red locks framing a lovely face and a concerned frown. She knocks twice on the doorframe, even though she can clearly see that Jaskier and Cenna have already come in and left the door wide open.

“Not a very troublesome problem,” Triss elaborates as she steps into the office, catching the worried faces of her friends. “But you know how I had to find a suitable soap scent from Kovir?”

Jaskier had complained long and loud about the lack of soaps in Kaer Morhen’s hot springs. What’s the point, he’d said to anyone who would listen, of having these lovely hot springs, if one isn’t even allowed to clean oneself? Finally, Geralt explained that the enhanced senses of Witchers also led them to dislike most soaps, as they all were meant to smell of something to humans, be it rose, bergamot, or jasmine. 

Only, Witchers weren’t supposed to have preferences when it came to something as silly as soaps, or weaknesses, and certainly not sensitivities. So it was a very long time before Jaskier was told, and a fair bit of time afterwards before Triss discovered a way to capture what she calls “blue smells” in a soap. Eskel doesn’t know the details, other than she found something suitable in Lan Exeter and has been bringing it back to Kaer Morhen ever since. 

“They must’ve taken it elsewhere,” Triss continues, miffed. “I thought we brought plenty of customers, but apparently they can find more elsewhere? I’m sure I’ll find something new, but I thought I should warn you that until then, we’ll be bathing without soaps.”

On a regular afternoon, Eskel would accept this unquestioningly. So some vendor decided to move from Lan Exeter to another location. There’s nothing noteworthy about that, especially considering that the subject matter is soap scents. 

But today, missing soap scents after losing the black cloth dye trade seems a bit too perfectly aligned. Geralt, self-hating pessimist that he is (he’s getting better about it though), would probably still think it’s just the natural bad luck of the Witchers. Eskel, on the other hand, is more inclined to think–

“ESKEL!” 

The last person to muscle into Eskel’s tiny office is a Witcher, Bojmir of the Crane School. The sheer size of him forces everyone else out of the doorway and properly into the office. Eskel observes their little group with an outsider’s eye and privately finds amusement in their arrangement. 

Cenna, an ordinary, almost middle-aged woman from Aedd Gynvael, with an eye for fine fabrics and a talent for bending them to her will. Triss, a sorceress who despite her trade is the only one trusted to heal Witchers. Jaskier, a Redanian nobleman by birth and bard by passion, who somewhat recently gained the unique and unconventional title of White Wolf’s Consort (also by passion). Finally, Bojmir the Serin, looming over the rest at almost seven feet tall, scratches three fingers through his braided beard. He started growing it out after moving to Kaer Morhen, and someone, probably one of the seamstresses, taught him the value of braiding hair. 

Bojmir eyes the rest of the people in the room. It’s an unusually suspicious move, and Eskel makes a mental note to bring it up later. For now, he just gestures for Bojmir to spit it out.

“Elante’s been found out,” Bojmir says.

Elante, the White Ibis, also of the Crane School, is one of the few Witchers to quit the Path entirely after the schools joined together. He always had a penchant for playing around with potions and elixirs and a love of liquor. Moving to Kaer Morhen facilitated his interest like nothing else, but Elante still joined his brothers on the Path. It was duty, and it was the only life he knew.

Then one of the cooks introduced Elante to brewing, and someone in Jaskier’s extended family was looking to get rid of an unwanted vineyard, and before Eskel knew it, Yennefer enchanted a ring for Elante to hide his mutations from humans, and he was out of Kaer Morhen. Elante set up shop in Jamurlak, on the White Wolf’s side of the Buina river, and opened the White Ibis Brewery & Pub, because all Witchers have a terrible sense of humor.

Last Eskel heard, Elante had invented some kind of fermented lemonade which nearly everyone in Kaer Morhen was going crazy for. All of Elante’s first customers were Witchers, before he gained popularity with the people of Jamurlak. They still stop by and visit him from time to time, mostly in disguise. Just because Elante walked away from the Path doesn’t mean he walked away from his brothers.

“How so?” Jaskier prods.

Bojmir shrugs his massive shoulders. “He said there were rumors of a monster near Jamurlak and he went to take care of it in secret, ‘n ever since then people’ve been eyeing him sideways. Then some woman started asking questions and she hasn’t done anything but she smells like she’s hiding something.”

And they all have a good (or bad) idea of how badly people would like to get their hands on a Witcher. 

“Fuck,” Eskel summarizes. 

First the mysterious discoverer of their black cloth dye trade, then their supplier for soap scents disappearing, then this debacle with Elante. Speaking of schedules–though Eskel has totally forgotten about making patrol schedules–they don’t know how long Elante has been on someone’s radar for, only when he decided to tell the next Witcher that stopped by.

So much for a lazy afternoon. 

“Someone’s waging war on us,” Jaskier concludes, concerned in that devil-may-care way of his. “Politely. But still.”

A polite war. Targeting the one glaring weakness of the Witchers: administration. 

THEN

No one has ever managed to spy on the Witchers. Ever since it became known that the White Wolf and his army of mutant monsters had taken up residence in Kaer Morhen, that old stone castle hidden high up in the mountains, in between their conquests, countless kings, sorcerors, spymasters and the like have tried to get a person on the inside. Not one of them has succeeded. Every disguised “washerwoman” seeking refuse, every trained courtesan, every “traitor” hoping to join the Witchers, every single mage-spy has been turned away at the door.

Their survival is perhaps more embarrassing, to the warlords and spymasters to whom these spies tell their stories. The Witchers do not kill these attempted spies any more than they let them in the doors. Somehow, every single one of them is simply turned away at the door, while others are allowed in, never to return. 

Because it is not secret that some people are allowed in. An old stonemason, who harbored Witcher sympathies long before the White Wolf started his bloody campaign, disappears with the pair of Witchers who came through his town. A local laundress, seeking out the trio of Witchers who came trudging through the town’s tavern, leaves with them all too happily. Somehow the impenetrable walls of Kaer Morhen open for these ordinary people, and not for the spies of Redania, Poviss, or Kovir. 

It is Malia’s job to somehow do the impossible and get a spy into Kaer Morhen. 

Which is not to say that she will be venturing up the mountain, or attempting to get a spy of her own into Kaer Morhen. That demonstrably doesn’t work. Instead, Malia will be attempting to get to one of the ordinary people who leave. 

#eskel #witcher eskel #jaskier #my writing #my fanfiction #antebunny's ficlets #already posted but wanted to do an official post #so it's not stuck on the end of a reblog #the witcher

[0dde11eth]

In fics jaskier is always losing his way around kaer morhen, and the wolves have to track him down if he wanders too far.

But he grew up in lettenhove as the son of a viscount. That title comes with the money to have a big house, and lots of land.

Jaskier also went to oxenfurt for school. It's a college town, well known across the continent. The college itself is huge! And it just makes sense for the city to also be huge.

Each winter jaskier isn't teaching he also goes and stays in some fancy ass castle playing for royalty.

(He's also a spy in the books, which usually means traveling).

So all leads me to have some questions:

Does he just wander around lost and batt his eyelashes at people until someone gives him directions?

Does he have an "unofficial handler" to keep him from getting lost?

Do they put up lots of those "you are here" maps in oxenfurt once he became an established professor?

Is he the reason they are called "wandering" bards?

#my nonsense #jaskier

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes.

Stranger Things

time may change me by kuhaperuna

After the Battle of Starcourt, Steve wakes up back in school the day Barb disappeared; only this time, she survives because Steve knows more than he should. Trying to save everyone is either the bravest decision he has ever made, or the stupidest.

Who Ya Gonna Call? Steve Harrington! by ReginaNocis

It started with Dustin showing up at Scoops Ahoy! with a flushed face and an old walkie-talkie. Dustin thrusted the old walkie into Steve’s hands without a word, then turned on his heel and left as quickly as he’d come inside.

(AKA Five times Steve was there for the Party when they needed him, + one time the Party was there for Steve when he needed them.)

The Witcher

The Devil Go With All by KHansen

The sorceress levels him with a stern look that he returns defiantly, keeping his chin raised and his eyes trained on hers. It hits her then, who this child reminds her so thoroughly of, and she feels a wave of exasperation followed by giddy glee at the fate that befell the bard before her. If her hunch is correct, then the child is none other than the Master Bard Jaskier.

When Yennefer comes across a seven-year-old Jaskier, filthy and starving in the woods, she takes him back to Kaer Morhen to help him recover and also figure out who cursed the bard and how to fix it before it's too late and he's stuck reliving his entire life.

Marvel

cracked halves by Scarlet_Ribbons

"So… what is this?" Deadpool asks faux-brightly, even though he looks like he might lose it.

Peter takes a deep breath, willing his voice not to crack. "It's, um. Hot water with salt and oregano so I can trick myself into thinking it's soup."

(It starts with food. As with most things regarding Deadpool, it hardly ends there.)

Clone Wars

Crashing Down by Oakwyrm

Marshal Commander Cody of the 7th Sky Corps is, despite his reputation, mortal. When a severe injury threatens his life and his continued ability to function should he recover, protocol states he should be sent back to Kamino. It does not explicitly state that he would likely be decommissioned, but his vode all know how to read between the lines.

General Kenobi’s response is equally predictable.

I'm Not Safe Outside Your Arms by shipNslash

"Darth Sidious is dead," Anakin whispers, voice breaking. "Oh." Obi-Wan sucks in a shuddering breath. "Oh. He's gone." Anakin makes a pained noise and releases one of his master's wrists to tap-tap against Obi-Wan's forehead with an index finger. "He's dead, Obi-Wan. But he's not gone." -_-_-_- "Are you alright? Have you had any…?" Cody trails off, either unable or unwilling to finish. It doesn’t matter. They all know what he’s talking about. "No." Wooley leans in a little. "We've been fine, sir." Cody frowns. "Good days?" "Average," Boil says over Obi-Wan's head. Average does not mean good, Obi-Wan knows.

what's left of you in the end by lux_arcana

One year, two months, and eight days ago, the United Planet of Melidaan declared an end to their Civil War. Instrumental in creating this peace was Obi-Wan Kenobi, honored member of the Young's fighting force that brokered the treaty between the warring factions, both Melida and Daan, Elder and Young.

In one universe, Qui-Gon Jinn took Obi-Wan Kenobi home. In others, he didn't. In one, he was taken the day after peace was declared.

Obi-Wan never came home after Melida/Daan. Not really. He left part of himself there, and another part on the forsaken planet he spent the better part of a year on. He was putting himself back together, piece by piece, but it's hard to clean up after you've already shattered. (AU of Obi-Wan's Padawan years, where he was formally repudiated by Qui-Gon Jinn and then found by Master Fay. Heavy focus on trauma recovery and the aftermath of war and slavery; not Qui-Gon Jinn friendly.)

getting up (while you're down) by glimmerglanger

The galaxy was punishing Cody.

He didn’t know what he’d done, but, then again, in his experience the galaxy didn’t need a reason to exact punishment on someone. Things just happened, and then people had to deal with them.

OR, the one where Obi-Wan suffers a series of wardrobe malfunctions, and Cody suffers for it.

#i've been meaning to post this for over a week now but i kept getting distracted #my bad?? #weekly fic round up #fic recs #my posts #stranger things recs #marvel recs #witcher recs #sw recs

[dancingwiththefae]

the kindest thing

A fic for @seidenbros follower celebration <3

Jaskier wakes Yennefer from a nightmare. Of all the people to accept comfort from, she didn't expect to actually want it from him.

1.4K, no warnings, all the comfort and softness for them

AO3

-------------------------------------------------------

She saw Ciri staring back at her. Cold eyes that were not her own. She offered everything to her. But it wasn't enough. It wasn't working. They called to her but she just couldn't hear. They tried everything to reach her but it was no use. She was gone. Lost to them. Everyone around them were falling. They were losing and still she could not hear. She screamed yelled loud as she could, desperate to do something, anything. She had to save her. She just had to.

A sudden hand to her shoulder made her jolt. Her eyes flew open. A blurry visage blocked her vision. She blinked a few times and the image of Jaskier came into view, face set into a frown. The crumpled sheets and Kaer Morhen's cold stone walls told her she was in her bedroom. She must have been dreaming.

“Jaskier? What the fuck are you doing in my room?”

“I heard shouting and-and-”

She pushed him a little too harsh out of the way as she sat up and rubbed a hand across her face. She sighed, collecting herself. And pointedly ignoring the ever irritating bard hovering by her bed.

“You're welcome, by the way.” He gestured vaguely towards her. “Come to check on you out of the goodness of my heart and not even a thank you.”

“Ever the gentleman,” she commented.

Try as she might, she couldn't get the images out of her mind. She knew if she tried to sleep again more nightmares would plague her. Of her failure. Of everything that could have gone wrong and everything that did go wrong wound up in one. She pulled the sheets off her, slipped off the bed and went for the pitcher of water on her bedside table. It took her a moment to realise the bard was still there. She gave him a sideways glance as she sipped from her glass. He was dressed in his bed clothes with a book under his arm.

“What are you doing up anyway?” she asked, “bit of nighttime reading?”

He looked down as if he only just noticed the book was there.

“Couldn't sleep. And their bestiaries are so boring, I thought it might do the trick,” he winked. It wasn't a convincing one, but she appreciated the facade all the same.

“Couldn't sleep?” she queried.

“Well,” he floundered a little, “my room gets a little cold and... y'know.”

She did not know. There was still a fire burning low to keep her room warm. But she sensed that he was lying anyway. Her lack of response left him at a loss. The air grew awkward between them as the silence stretched on. She would make a sarcastic comment but, as it was, her mind was a little preoccupied. The idea of going back to bed filled her with dread. Closing her eyes and opening her mind to more terrifying visions. Or lying awake, staring up at the ceiling, alone with nothing but her own spiralling thoughts. She wasn't sure which one was worse.

“I can-uh. I can just go if you'd prefer,” the bard said awkwardly, backing off towards the door, “let you get some more sleep...”

“Wait.”

She had no idea what had possessed her to do this. If she had thought for a second she probably wouldn't have said anything at all.

“Yes?”

He looked at her with such softness, such concern. It made her want to slap the look right off of him just so she didn't have to see it any more. She didn't, but she wanted to.

“I hate to ask this of you – especially you of all people – but would you stay? Just until I fall asleep?” As soon as the words were out she held up her hand. “Say anything and I will turn you to dust before you even know what's happening.”

The concern was replaced by utter bewilderment. His mouth opened and closed as he tried to form a response. She was probably going to regret it in the morning, but who else could she turn to? And Jaskier, well, Jaskier was here. Of all the people on this godsforsaken continent that she had had the displeasure to know, Jaskier had somehow become her only lifeline.

“Yeah. Okay. If that's what you want.” His words came out stuttered and awkward like he was prepared to retract them at any minute. She gave a short nod. It was good enough. Without another word she got back into bed. Jaskier followed obediently.

“Do you want me-?” He waved towards the empty side of the bed. “Or I could fetch a chair? Or...”

“Gods, you are hopeless at everything,” Yennefer sighed as her head hit the pillow, “how you are still alive is beyond me.”

“I ask myself the same question,” he laughed as he propped up the pillows beside her and lay back. As soon as he was settled, she rolled away from him and closed her eyes. Silently she lay still, waiting for sleep to come. She waited. And waited. Nothing happened. She kept her breathing calm and even. Sleep still did not come. She did her best to ignore the occasional soft sound of turning pages until she couldn't any more. She rolled to her other side and cracked an eye open to peek up. Jaskier was sitting up with the book close to him, squinting at the pages.

“You need your glasses, old man,” she teased.

“It's the light,” he retorted, “or lack of. Anyway, I know for a fact that you have decades on me, witch.”

“And eternally youthful. Perks of being a sorceress.”

He mouthed her words back in a childish manner and, oh, she wasn't going to stand for that. Abruptly, she sat up. He jolted as she suddenly came in close.

“Is that a grey hair?” she gasped, combing her fingers through his hair. He ducked to get away from her clutches.

“Alright, alright, we can't all be beautiful, youthful mages, can we?”

She pulled back, feeling very satisfied with her teasing.

“You're the one who said beautiful,” she said with an arch of her brow.

“Yes, well,” he huffed, closing his book with a snap, “I appreciate all beauty. Even terrible, mean witches who, by the way, are supposed to be asleep.”

She sat back with a huff.

“Sleep is eluding me at the moment. Show me what you're reading.” She indicated to the book in his lap. He opened it for her. Something on the anatomy of griffins. Quietly, they read together. She did not comment on the fact that she could read the writing clearly. He did not comment on her tucking herself into his side. With the silence of the keep and the low light of the fire, she could almost allow herself to believe that they were the only two people in existence. Something about the night made it feel like it would stretch on forever. She rested her head on the bard's shoulder. He was right, this was a dull book. A yawn broke from her unwillingly. Her eyes grew heavy. His method worked, it seemed, because it wasn't long before she was gently being shook awake. He coaxed her to lie down, whispered goodnight, and made to leave. She pulled on his sleeve to stop him.

“Your room is cold,” she mumbled, using the last of her energy to pull back the bedsheets for him.

“Oh, yes. I did say that, didn't I.”

He climbed into bed and settled on his back. Yennefer wasted no time in resting her head against his shoulder again. Her half-asleep logic told her it was a perfectly comfortable place to rest just a moment ago. He didn't fight against it. With a hesitant hand, he quietly reached down to entangle their fingers together. Not that Yennefer noticed. She was already asleep.

She awoke to the early dawn with a headache that reminded her she had had far too little sleep. On trying to move, she realised that she was trapped in an entanglement of limbs. Jaskier was sleeping peacefully, his boyish face decidedly too cherub-like. At some point in the night he had wrapped his arms around her and pulled her close to him. No doubt he'd be surprised by his own actions when he woke up. She should move and save him the embarrassment. But, well, it didn't sound like anyone was up yet, and she did need more sleep. She cursed how peaceful he looked and closed her eyes again. She could always pretend to be shocked at their position later. What he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

#the witcher #the witcher fanfiction #yennskier #yennskier fanfic #jaskier #yennefer of vengerberg #faye writes #staffis 1.5 k celebration

[tielmamon]

Legacy

714 words • angsty bittersweet ending • major character death (not depicted, just implied) • established relationship

Somewhere, within the stone walls of Kaer Morhen there is a room filled with history of past witchers. Those who established themselves as legends, their stories serving as tales of caution and inspiration to all witchers old or ancient. But within the room of armour and blades, is a peculiar thing.

A lute, elven design, hung proud amongst swords and daggers and gauntlets. Some who wander in might ask if a legendary witcher used music as their weapon. Maybe some would spin tales of a particularly twisted witcher, unsuspectingly ensnaring their monsters with melodies before dealing the final blow. 

But no, the owner of the lute is no witcher. That is the most curious fact of all. A bard's spirit nestles amongst witchers in that room. Some may think its a joke, truly. What could a simple bard do to make it into this sanctuary?

Vesemir, the eldest of the witchers would tell you that that bard is a legend, a brother amongst witchers and that his legacy is that which shaped the continent witchers live today. Why people see them as hope, as heroes rather than mutants.

Under the lute, a nameplate hung. Etched carefully and artfully in a slab of stone, wrote Jaskier, the Voice of Witchers. A lark and wolf etched at each end of the title. 

Every winter, when the keep is alive and full of family and warmth and safety, a grizzled man with white hair and tired yellow eyes will enter. He will greet his family with a warm smile and a clap on the back. He will especially greet his daughter, the blonde, fiesty woman beating Lambert's ass in Gwent with a bone crushing hug and a kiss on the forehead.

 Then, when the moon was up and the others are laughing, merrily sharing stories and spilling drinks, he will make his way to the room of legends, with 2 drinks and a dandelion pressed between the pages of his journal. He would make a beeline to the lute, sit down and talk.

"Hey, Jask."

 He would say, as he begins to recall everything that has happened for him this year. Every monster he's slayed, every place he's traveled, every child he's hugged back. He would tell the lute of Ciri, how she's the best witcher out of them all, how the keep is so full of warmth and life despite the cold. He would tell how villages that were once filled with hate and prejudice welcome him and his brothers now with open arms and open purses. He would tell the lute of one particular village in Oxenfurt,  close to the university had just announced that they will be having a festival, in honor of witchers and their service towards the continent. He'd mention that even though he hates festivals, he still went because the university send him a letter asking him- because not only is the festival dedicated to them but also to a certain bard that now has a lovely garden named in his honor on campus. A bustling corner of nature with birds and a bright blue pond and dandelions everywhere.

He would tell the lute how much his family missed him, how Lambert still loses himself in a daze for a split second whenever he hears music from a tavern. About how Eskel keeps his favorite poetry book with all his little notes and marks near his bedside. About how Vesemir would tell the young ones he encounters at the village near the keep about this brilliant but insufferable bard that used to roam the halls, how Yennefer would mention him the most still, criticizing his taste in clothes and gaudy fineries when she passes by a storefront display. He'd tell the lute how Ciri would quietly mumble "I miss his voice." under her breath whenever they find themselves in quiet moments. 

 He would have the most content look in his golden eyes, and he would say the words that never left his heart even after all these years.

"I love you. I miss you. Wait for me."

Then he would place a kiss on the wooden body, place the flower between the strings and leave, all while clutching the bronze tuning fork charm that hung just beside his medallion. 

#geraskier #geraskier headcanon #sad but happy #still sad tho #thewitcher #headcanon

[inexplicifics]

Thank you for all the beautiful fic you are sharing!! Makes my day when i see you on my dash. Just wondering if, in stop one heart from breaking, there’s a particular moment or chunk in time when the witchers realise they care about/like *jaskier*, not just the omega they adopted into their pack?

They talk about it later, among themselves, while Jaskier is in the library and they’re all out helping rebuild a tumbled wall.

*

Lambert falls first. It’s that afternoon in a poxy little town, when Jaskier is still scared of everything and they have to leave him at the inn while they go out to hunt a nest of bruxae. Lambert leans against Jaskier and the omega lifts a hand to stroke his hair, and Lambert’s witcher-slow, jaded heart turns over, because -

Because Jaskier is scared, still, and still utterly unsure of his place within the pack, and is so clearly scarred inside and out by his years of hell, passed around from alpha to alpha like he was worth less than the clothes on his back, and yet somehow, unlike Lambert, he hasn’t let his pain make him cruel.

He still has it in him to be kind to a near-stranger of an alpha, an inhuman mutant with a too-sharp tongue and a filthy sense of humor.

*

Geralt falls second. They’re most of the way back to Kaer Morhen, and Jaskier spots another bard, a beta woman, across a small tavern common room and very clearly screws up his courage and goes over, and Geralt, listening, hears the omega ask quietly if the other bard happens to know The Eight Fair Maidens. It’s an old Kaedweni song of which Geralt is fond, and Geralt asked for it other other day and Jaskier didn’t know it, and now -

Now he’s doing something that scares him witless, just to give Geralt a song he happens to like.

Geralt props his chin on his hand and watches as Jaskier and the other bard speak to each other quietly, and the other bard plays through the song on her lute softly enough that it doesn’t attract any attention, and then Jaskier comes back to their table looking relieved and happy.

Geralt catches his eye as he sits down and says, softly and fervently, “Thank you,” and counts the shyly brilliant smile Jaskier gives him as a reward well won.

*

Eskel is the most soft-spoken and courteous of his pack, the gentlest in many ways, but he guards his heart well.

He cherishes Jaskier well before they reach Kaer Morhen’s crumbling walls; the omega is sweet and brave and clever, and he suits their pack like a hand in a well-made glove. He knows his pack-brothers have fallen in love; it’s all through their scents and their expressions, which others might find hard to decipher but he can read as easily as a child’s primer.

Eskel loses his heart in the courtyard of Kaer Morhen, when Jaskier swears in utter sincerity that he would rather die than harm their pack.

There are so few people who can or would make such a promise. And the thought of scared, scarred, brave young Jaskier being one of them - of him having given them such loyalty even after everything he’s been through -

Eskel breathes in the scent of cinnamon and citrus and knows his pack will never be complete without it again.

#questions answered #i shall not live in vain 'verse #snippet #fic specific asks

[hannibard]

"I'm choking from the taste (but I can't help but swallow)"

Pairings: Geraskier, Radskier

Summary: "There's too much at stake Geralt, it's not worth it. Go back to Kaer Morhen and forget about me."

"You're more than worth it Jaskier and I'll do anything in my power to get you out of this hell. Melitele help anyone who stands in my way."

Jaskier is taken by Radovid in the midst of his travels with Geralt and Milva. The Redanian king, changed from his recent ascent to power, is determined to get everything he wants, with Jaskier having the misfortune of being on top of the list. Jaskier spends time serving Radovid in the Redanian court, drowning in despair and losing parts of himself in the process, his only consolation being the knowledge that his friend was safe from the Redanian army due to his sacrifice.

Sometime after Geralt has united the north under his rule, he decides to pay a visit to Redania in the hope of reuniting with his bard. But Jaskier is not as he remembers, his psyche having been fractured in their time apart. Will the witcher be able to help him escape his tragic fate?

Inspired by the song "Poison" from Hazbin Hotel

Click here to read on Ao3

---

Chapter 1: How it all started

He had been traveling together with Geralt and Milva for a few months when they took him. The three had made good progress on their way to Nilfgaard, occasionally adding other skilled individuals that were willing to aid in their cause to their group, like the high vampire/surgeon Regis, and the possibility of reaching Ciri was becoming more apt with each passing day. Jaskier was, despite the sharp worry in his gut for the girl he had come to consider something akin to a daughter, relatively content.

Things were in no way easy, but at least he was (finally) at Geralt's side again. Plus, this time around he was actually able to pull his weight. Gone were the days of him being barely more than a burden that slowed the witcher down and made his life harder, as his role had been for the majority of their acquaintance.

(If life could give me one blessing-)

He had been by himself in some backwater village, because they needed to make money somehow and Jaskier was, despite all his faults, an excellent bard. His ability to be useful, even amidst such impressive individuals, filled him with pride. The others had made camp a few miles away in order to not draw attention. It was risky enough for Jaskier to make those semi-frequent appearances in the public eye, even with the new moniker he had adopted in his attempt to pass as different person. He had rarely traveled this far south in the past, so he wasn’t too worried about being recognized.

(it goes without saying that he avoided performing any songs from the vast repertoire he had created centered around his greatest muse, the White Wolf.)

His set was coming to an end, and he was looking forward to drinking an ale after gathering his earnings, before starting his long way back to his companions. He was in the middle of just that when he was approached by a hooded figure. They moved gracefully, weaving skillfully through the crowd before sitting down across the bard.

“Beautiful voice you’ve got there.” Their face was hidden in the shadow created by the hood, which was dark and modest, not carrying any identifiable markings.

Jaskier didn’t let his alarm show. “Thank you friend, I’m always one to appreciate compliments.” He took a long sip from his tankard methodically in a show of nonchalance.

The hooded figure cocked their head to the side and reached their hand out. “With talent such as yours, it’s a wonder you’re not more well-known Master…?”

Jaskier gave a bright grin, subtly wiping the sweat making its way down his forehead, and shook the stranger’s hand. Their grip was firm, and its hold lasted a bit longer than was considered socially appropriate. “The name’s Dandelion. And you are…?”

“A beautiful name to match the beautiful voice.” The figure avoided the question and tilted their head back so that their matching grin could be visible to the bard. Jaskier couldn't see their eyes, he had a nagging impression that he was being checked out from top to bottom. “Of course I can't neglect mentioning the beautiful appearance. Though if you don’t mind my humble opinion, I’d say there’s another name that would suit you more fittingly.”

The bard’s grin twitched ever so slightly. “And what would that be my dear fellow? Do say so.”

The stranger leaned forward. “Jaskier.” they said almost conspiratorially.

The bard’s smile fell all together, and he looked around with the corner of his eye. None of the inn’s patrons seemed to have heard, too busy drinking, eating and chatting loudly with each other. The innkeeper himself was curiously missing from the room.

“What do you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“If you want to find out then follow me and don’t make a scene. It wouldn’t benefit either of us.”

Jaskier gulped and slowly stood up. He made sure to grab his lute and not to let his nervousness show. “As you wish.”

They made their way outside, and as soon as they were out of people’s sight the stranger grabbed his arm with a strong grip that left no room for resistance, no matter how much Jaskier tried to pull away. They reached a building that stood tall in the periphery of the village, and the hooded figure surveyed their surroundings before opening the front door and pushing Jaskier inside. The force made the bard fall to his knees and he hissed in pain, his lute thankfully tucked safely against his back. He vaguely heard the door close and lock behind him just as he looked up, his mind too busy short-circuiting at the sight he came across.

“Hello darling.” said Radovid as he stood up from a makeshift throne, making his way to the bard and dropping to one knee in front of him. The newly-crowned king took Jaskier’s chin in one hand and gently stoked his cheek with the other, smiling gently. “Oh how I’ve missed you.” He said wistfully and gave him a quick peck on the lips.

Jaskier was left speechless, his brows furrowing together in confusion. He hadn’t seen Radovid since that fateful day in Aretuza after the Thanedd ball, in the midst of all the chaos. Their parting had been hopeful but it didn’t take long for Jaskier to hear about Radovid’s sudden enthronement, so he had resolved himself to the reality that their story would remain forever unfinished. His regret lessened more and more with the time he spent at his witcher’s side.

“Radov-, Y-your majesty, to what do I owe the honor of this, ah, sudden summons?” he said when he finally managed to make his mouth move.

Radovid’s eyes hardened almost imperceptibly at the bard’s term of address. He let out a defeated sigh and hung his head low. “I never once stopped thinking about you my dear, every day we spent apart was pure torture, and now that my reign has stabilized I though it was the perfect time to pay you a visit." He looked up and stared unblinkingly into the bards blue eyes. "Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Jaskier swipped his lips with his tongue, a motion that Radovid tracked hungrily. “Oh, I uh, I’m elated to see you, truly, but I’m just a tad confused. You see, your buddy over there that escorted me here, let’s just say they weren’t very gentle in their approach. In few words and with no offense, it left a lot to be desired. I was expecting to encounter some sort of Nilfgaardian general ready to chop my head off and not… you.”

Radovid huffed and offered a hand to Jaskier, helping him up. Now that Jaskier was somewhat over his initial surprise he was able to take in the king’s appearance. There were some subtle changes, like the short beard that had replaced his previously clean-shaven face, his once lean body seemed to have filled with muscle, but the biggest change, the one that made Jaskier’s breath catch in his throat, was in his eyes.

Before, Radovid’s eyes were like a window to his soul that only Jaskier had a key to, full of intelligence and softness, specifically towards his person, but now… Now his gaze was guarded. The only thing Jaskier could detect besides the current show of the king’s emotions, was darkness. It was something he was only able to decipher after his years of experience performing in countless courts and dealing with all sorts of people in his travels. It caused a chill to run down his spine.

“You don’t have to worry about Nilfgaard any more my love, you won’t have to deal with them ever again.” Radovid said as he patted down the outrageously large fur that hung from his shoulders.

Jaskier blinked rapidly a few times and raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean by that Your Majesty?”

Radovid looked at him as though he’d asked a very stupid question. “Redania’s power has grown vastly in recent months as I’m sure you’ve heard. Nilfgaard wouldn’t dare take a single step towards us. Also please cut all the ‘Your Majesty’s, our relationship has evolved beyond such formalities.”

Jaskier nodded tentatively “I’ve certainly heard about your accomplishments, but I don’t understand what that has to do with me.”

Radovid rolled his eyes in fond exasperation. “You’re coming with us silly.”

Jaskier’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He had been bombarded by shock after shock in such quick succession that he hadn’t been able to calm his racing mind in a minute.

“I appreciate the offer, truly, Your Majes- Radovid.” the bard quickly corrected his words after seeing Radovid’s face twist in displeasure. “But I’m afraid I have to decline. You see, I’m currently in the middle of a very important quest that I must see through to the end.”

The king’s eyes narrowed, his fists clenching at his sides. “So you’d choose that witcher over me? Even after everything he’s put you through? I could give you everything you’ve ever dreamed of, comfort and luxury beyond your wildest dreams, but you’d seriously rather continue following that monster like a lost puppy?”

The bard wasn’t happy with the name Radovid used to describe his dearest friend, but he let it go, choosing to focus on the matter at hand. “I’m sorry Radovid. It is what it is.”

A glimpse of hurt flashed in the king’s eyes and his shoulder’s slumped as he turned away from the bard. He took a few deep breaths before he straightened up again. When their eyes met once more, Radovid’s hardened gaze was filled with resolve. Jaskier waited with bated breath for his response.

“If you won’t come with me willingly… I’ll just have to bring you by force.”

Jaskier’s eyes widened and his blood ran cold. Before he was able to do anything, two guards surrounded him and grabbed his shoulders from each side. He thrashed wildly but it was for naught, the bard being much weaker than his captors. “No-, Radovid- please don’t do this, I’m begging you!” He asked desperately.

The king looked down at him with his chin up and an air of confidence surrounding him, for the first time appearing as ruthless and regal as his title implied.

“I’m afraid I can’t listen to you darling. One of the perks of being a king is that I can do and have whatever I wish for, and nobody can stand in my way.” He waved his hand towards the bard nonchalantly as he addressed his followers. “Bring him a pen and paper. Have him write a letter to the witcher and deliver it to the innkeeper. He’ll know what to do.”

The guards dragged Jaskier towards a desk and deposited him in a chair, writing tools bring placed on the surface before him a moment later. His hand was shaking as he picked up the pen. A tear slid down his cheek as he tried one last time to change the king’s mind. “Please Radovid... Let me go.”

The king crossed his arms and his mouth formed a tight line. “That’s ‘Your Majesty’ to you.”

Jaskier let out a sob and stared down at the paper, blinking rapidly in an effort to clear his blurry eyesight. His mind was racing trying to find a way to leave some sort of secret message to alert Geralt of his situation. Radovid seemed to read his thoughts however, because he gripped the bard’s nape tightly and leaned down to whisper in his ear. “Don’t even think about pulling any tricks or your dear witcher and the rest of your group will leave their last breaths at the camp they’re currently stationed on. My soldiers have the place surrounded as we speak.”

With those words the bards last hope was extinguished. The last thing he wanted to do was put his friends in danger. Even with their combined extraordinary strength, he didn’t want to chance either of them getting seriously injured. If obedience was the price to pay for their safety, then so be it.

“At least promise me you’ll leave them alone.��

Radovid gave a chaste kiss to the bard’s neck and ran what would be considered under normal circumstances a comforting hand down his back. “You have my word. I didn't care about them in the first place.” He gave the bard one last squeeze and went to sit back in his throne.

Jaskier took a deep breath and started writing. The single tear that hit the paper, while certain to be identifiable with the witcher’s heightened senses, would probably be assumed to have been a product of Jaskier’s typical sentimentality and nothing more.

Dear Geralt,

You’ll find me dearly saddened to inform you that our long-standing companionship must come to an end. You see, I’ve had time to think while staying in this lovely little settlement away from you lot, and I've come to realize what it is I truly want. That of course being king Radovid of Redania. I’ve talked to you about our ill-fated relationship before as you might recall. Somehow, things for us two don’t seem as bleak as they one were. I can see a light at the end of the tunnel and thus I’ve decided to go to Redania and try to build a future with him. Love conquers all and the like.

For the first time in my life, I’m putting myself before you. I’m choosing my own happiness. I hope you’re able to achieve your goals and manage to locate Ciri safe and sound. When you do, which I've no doubt you'll achieve, give her all my love. Please inform the rest of our group about my decision. I’m sorry for doing this so suddenly but you know how matters of the heart can be. They leave no room for patience.

Ever your affectionate friend,

Julian Alfred Pankratz.

#i got over my writer's block and decided to start a multichapter fanfic #it won't be too long #or so I hope #I'm so proud of myself #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #twn #radskier #radovid #dandelion #gerlion #the witcher netflix #julian alfred pankratz #hurt/comfort #post season 3 #protective geralt #not actually unrequited love #self sacrifice #jaskier needs a hug #my writing #crispy