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All I’ve managed to draw lately are 3/4 busts of Geralt facing left with bonus pixie Jaskier hope you enjoy 🧚✨

#the witcher #geraskier #twn #geralt of rivia #jaskier #art #pixie jaskier #geralt #witcher #the witcher fanart #the witcher netflix

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that inconspicuous flower bouquet in geralt's hand made me snort in the most undignified way :D

Inconspicuous flowers?? No idea what you're talking about

#glad you appreciated my innocent little flowers 😌 #I'm proud I managed to trick a few of you with it 💜 #ask

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The final batch of photos from this part of our shoot! The camera decided to try and censor us I guess because some came out a bit blurry, but I decided to post them anyways because I still like them ^_^

I'm zuri_atnight on IG and Geralt is toptyr_cosplay

#geraskier #geralt #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #cosplay #GOLD!!👌

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When you get caught cheating during a friendly game of strip gwent 🤭

Go ahead and rip my trousers off Geralt, just know you'll be paying for the tailor tomorrow~

I'm zuri_atnight on IG and Geralt is toptyr_cosplay ^_^

#geraskier #geraskier cosplay #the witcher #jaskier x geralt #geralt x jaskier #jaskier #geralt #geralt cosplay #jaskier cosplay #the witcher cosplay #I am looking respecTflulLY

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Husbands!

#gerlion #geralt x dandelion #geralt/dandelion #the witcher #the witcher fanart #IM IN LOVE 😭😭😭 #the way he's holding him!! and their smiles !!! #absolute husbands

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✨ ❤ I have been so, so excited to share my piece for @lambertbigbang ! I got to work with the boundlessly talented @heartoferebor (AO3) and I can't wait for you to read his fic "Cat in the Bag".

They have been such a joy to work with and I couldn't have wished for a better person to work with on this! (plus they gave me the opportunity to draw these boys all being so soft, so I owe him my soul, here)

#the witcher #lambert #witcher coen #aiden witcher #LOOK AT THEM BOIZ

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#the witcher #witcher fanart #gerskel #geralt x eskel #geralt of rivia #eskel #im loving this so much y^y

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🌼 event : @whataboutthebard 🌼

day 14 sept 25

Prompt: Handjobs | Wreck the bard

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a quickie for yesterday's prompt

full version on twitter

#what about the bard #watb #wreck the bard #handjob #but make it cursed #sorry roach #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher fanart #the witcher #week event #my art

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🌼 event : @whataboutthebard 🌼

day 15 sept 26

Prompt: Sex with feelings (spoken or unspoken) | Wreck the bard

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feelings you said ??

#what about the bard #watb #wreck the bard #sex with feelings #but make it angsty #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher fanart #the witcher #week event #my art

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Ciri post-it doods: Remastered

Psst pls check the notes for ID!

#the witcher #cirilla fiona elen riannon #geralt of rivia

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69 + 36, geraskier, for the mash up meme?

Text/Letter Fic + Flirting Under Fire

star trek redshirts au

jaskier is a communications officer and geralt is security personnel

geralt is frequently sent out first in explorations of dangerous planets, and because security personnel have a high casualty rate, jaskier takes great pains to keep his eye on geralt

this means, more often than not, he's in geralt's comm unit, or in his ear (though geralt has a habit of silencing jaskier when things get heated which, rude)

throwing worried, yearning glances at geralt's blinking little tracking dot on the terminal is just not the same

(jaskier wriggles his way into geralt's off-mission life as well, exercising together on the holodeck and sharing meals in the mess hall. they end up in each other's rooms more often than not, since jaskier has a talent for instruments of all kinds, and geralt finds his voice soothing enough to fall asleep to, more effective than the hyposprays he gets from medical)

geralt wonders what it means that jaskier doesn't seem to expend this kind of attention on his other charges, though he still cries every time when someone he's communicating with goes dark

geralt wonders when that will happen to him, because it's nearly inevitable in his line of work. one day, he'll be reading jaskier's innuendo-filled comm messages or listening to jaskier's quips in his ear ... and it will be the final thing he perceives. geralt knows that he shouldn't get close to jaskier, that it will just make it hurt more when this happens, but "arms length" has never been possible when it comes to jaskier

he'll look back on his doubts later and consider them tragically ironic

as a linguistics expert, jaskier is sometimes taken along in important negotiations

this one is supposed to be standard, an alliance brokered between the temerians and redanians

geralt is laid up in the sickbay and on leave when the party is beamed down ... and two hours later, when word comes that the nilfgaardians (a war-like, expansionist race) had ambushed the negotiation and taken starfleet personnel as hostages

frantic, geralt scrambles for his comm, and now it's his turn to watch helplessly as jaskier's tracker blinks from the depths of nilfgaardian's prison planet ...

#geraskier #not me crying rn #such a good crossover!!! #we need more spaceopera witcher au #also uniforms

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Stay Your Hand (E)

Summary: Jaskier gets his cock slapped under a tavern table

“Geralt! Have you seen my -”

Geralt pushes the long-since discarded doublet into Jaskier’s hands, rolling his eyes at Jaskier’s noise of triumph.

“Ah, there she is!” Jaskier cries.

As usual, Jaskier seems to have no inclination to put the garment back on, seemingly happy to drag his fingers across the threads, cooing at its return.

“The barmaid is a pretty thing,” Geralt says, looking pointedly at Jaskier’s unlaced chemise as the bard slides into a seat at the corner table.

“She is that,” Jaskier agrees easily, casting a wistful glance back at the girl. Jaskier’s flushed and alight from his earlier performance, the glint in his eye promising every passing stranger that he might love them, if only they would love him back.

Granted, the flush might also have something to do with the five pints Jaskier had post-performance; whittling away the late hours by charming the local lasses as the crowd slowly trickled home. They’re all but alone now, the few lingering patrons all deep in their cups.

Geralt dodges when Jaskier leans in for a kiss. The bard’s breath reeks with the smell of stale spirits and dried sweat coats his chest, the byproducts of a long performance and longer evening. Geralt crinkles his nose but doesn’t pull away when Jaskier leans into his side. Jaskier sucked him off last week with kikimore guts still in his hair, there’s no high ground in sight.

Jaskier, unabashed, and nips at Geralt’s ear before saying, “Not as pretty as you, of course.”

He’s flirting without intent, flitting from one pretty face to another - enjoying the attention itself more than the person it comes from.

That’s what seals his fate. Geralt can tolerate another catching the bard’s eye for a time; he’s always been attracted to life’s finer pleasures. But he doesn’t get to ignore Geralt all evening, leaving Geralt to mind his things while paying Geralt no mind himself, only to now demand that Geralt give Jaskier his full attention and to say thank you for the scraps.

Geralt snarls, catching Jaskier by the hair and pulling, demanding the focus that wasn’t given freely. Jaskier whimpers as his head is dragged back, forcing him to arch his back, attention now firmly planted on his lover. Geralt runs a fingernail across Jasker’s lower lip, purposefully catching the soft skin on its edge.

Geralt’s given him a long rope, and Jaskier wandered off and hung himself with it. The rest of the evening will be on Geralt’s terms.

“Tell me, Julian. Have I lost your faith?” Geralt asks.

“What?” Jaskier says, the alcohol slowing his usual quick wit.

“Speak plainly, do you lie to me like you lie to them?” Geralt presses, nodding his head towards the now largely empty room.

“I don’t know what you’re -”

“You deny it?” Geralt says, baring his teeth in an approximation of a smile, “Then if not a liar, you’re a fool, coming to me peddling tales of beauty, as if you see no difference between me and any fair maiden you bed.”

Geralt emphasizes his words by slipping his spare hand down the deep cut of Jaskier’s chemise, squeezing Jasker’s tit as he would a woman’s. Jaskier moans deep and low, closing his eyes to the sensation. Ale always made him somehow - impossibly - louder.

“Maybe I should invite the maid to join us,” Geralt pretends to muse, continuing to knead the hard muscle under his hand. “It hardly seems fair that you got to choose whoever you wish but I’m left with only this.” He pulled tightly on Jaskier’s nipple for emphasis. “Her bosom was lovely, maybe I should compare your breasts before making my decision.” He lets his hand fall flat against Jaskier’s chest, tapping his finger in feigned consideration.

Jaskier bites his lip and pushes his chest hard into Geralt’s hand, dragging his nipple down Geralt’s calloused palm. Geralt keeps the heel of his hand pushed firmly against Jaskier’s chest, leaving the bard to squirm against it, making him seek his own pleasure. Jaskier had come to him already half-hard - it didn’t take much to turn his easy need to desperation.

Jaskier thrusts up into empty air, desperately searching for friction. He whimpers when Geralt doesn’t relax his grip. The bitch hasn’t earned it.

“Gods be good, Geralt,” Jaskier says, coming back to himself. “Take me to bed.”

Geralt hums, “Just you?”

“Don’t tease,” Jaskier whines. “I have eyes only for you, my love. I know not of what other beauty you speak, she is stricken from my mind! I promise to never stray again, even for a moment, if only you take me to our room this instant.”

Geralt grins, slow and easy. “Why would I do that, when I could take you right here?”

Jaskier freezes. “You can’t - Geralt,” he objects, but then his breath catches, giving him away. “Someone will see.”

“Just as I had to watch you slip your hand up the barmaid’s skirt?” Geralt asks mildly, gauging Jaskier’s response. “Not in front of each other, Jaskier. Remember? That was your rule.”

Jaskier gasps and jerks forward, Geralt’s grip unrelenting in his hair. “I wasn’t, you can’t, it was just flirting, witcher.”

“And this is just me claiming what’s mine, bard,” Geralt growls, his breath hot on Jaskier’s neck. He releases Jaskier from his grip, pushing him back gracelessly. “Get yourself out.”

Jaskier flushes, stunned into inaction, like he’s hoping if he waits long enough Geralt will break and admit he’s been joking all along. Geralt meets his gaze steadily - challenging.

Ever so slowly, Jaskier lowers his hands down to his laces. His fingers hold none of their usual grace as he fumbles with the laces, muttering something about grommets. His hands tremble and he glances furtively around the tavern before taking a deep breath and pulling himself out under the table.

Jaskier’s cock is rather less conflicted about the sudden turn of events and he glares down, judging its poor taste.

“Good,” Geralt praises, reaching out and grasping Jaskier’s wrists. “Now hold yourself for me.” He guides Jaskier’s hands under his cock, directing them so that the bard’s hands are laid flat, presenting himself for Geralt to do as he likes.

“Geralt...what?” Jaskier asks, even as he allows himself to be moved.

Geralt raises an eyebrow. “You broke the rules. That has consequences.” Jaskier whines but doesn’t move from position and Geralt savors how easily he’s brought to heel. “Count for me. Quietly.”

He doesn’t give any other warning before he lands a sharp slap on Jaskier’s cock. Jaskier crumples forward. A sharp cry escapes before he clearly remembers where they were and chokes the rest of the noise down.

“Geralt,” Jaskier gasps, not quite managing quiet but doing a passable enough imitation of it. The game of Gwent across the room had transformed into thunderous accusations of cheating, bribery, and possible adultery, and it provided enough cover that no one noticed the bard’s suffering.

“Are you using your word?” Geralt asks mildly, straightening Jaskier’s shirt where a nipple had nearly made an escape.

“...no,” Jaskier replies, and ah, now that was quiet.

“Then get back as I had you,” Geralt says, “and count.”

Jaskier moves back into place, arranging his hands so that his cock is laid out. It’s pink and leaking and vulnerable and even with such willing prey Geralt can’t turn off his killer’s instinct. No sooner has Jaskier whispered, “one” than Geralt hits again, punching the breath out of Jaskier’s lungs. Jaskier takes a couple ragged breaths, visibly steeling himself before he recovers enough to whisper, “two.”

After that, Geralt keeps striking, steady and unrelenting. He is careful not to strike hard enough to damage, but he doesn’t spare Jaskier pain either. He works his way from base to tip and then back again, three up, three down, three up again. Jaskier will remember who he comes back to.

Tears are leaking out of Jaskier’s eyes by the time Geralt reaches nine.

“Just one more, then you’re done,” Geralt says, taking Jaskier’s cock out of his palms and holding the shaft firmly below the tip. It pulses in his grip, still hard despite the rough treatment. Geralt waits until Jaskier gives a small nod before bringing his hand down hard on Jaskier’s slit.

As soon as the stoke lands, Geralt throws his hand up over the bard’s mouth, witcher quick, muffling Jaskier’s shout. Geralt wraps his other arm around Jaskier’s shoulder, pulling the bard close to his chest and wiping away tears with his thumb.

“Hush, Jaskier. It’s done. You’re done. You did well,” Geralt mumbles, resting his forehead against the bard’s.

After Jaskier’s breathing has evened, Geralt reaches down, intending to tuck the bard away and take them both to bed. He’s surprised when Jaskier reaches out, always somehow stronger than Geralt expects, stopping him.

“If… if I was good, then don’t I deserve a reward? To make the lesson stick,” Jaskier asks coyly.

Geralt barely refrains from rolling his eyes at the obvious ploy; not Jaskier’s finest work by far. But then Jaskier’s tongue darts across his lip and Geralt has no choice but to notice how red and full the bard’s lips are from biting down to keep quiet. Well. Jaskier did ask to be taken to their room.

In one smooth motion Geralt stands and hoists Jaskier over his shoulder, hoping that Jaskier’s cock is hidden pressed against Geralt’s chest. He strides across the tavern towards the stairs, ignoring Jaskier’s squeaks of protest. Geralt can think of better uses for his mouth, and after that they’d see about a reward.

#geraskier #geralt x jaskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher #witcher fanfiction

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I am tentatively returning for today's @whataboutthebard prompt. Hands are… well, hands are everything. Fingers entwined, sending shivers down my spine… or grasping, strong enough to choke. Plucking a string or hurling a stone. Soft, squeezing touches brought to dazzling completion… or a stinging slap, a yearning bruise.

Reach out. Take my hand. Run.

Do you remember those first awkward brushes, younger versions of ourselves in too-small quarters, sharing space as much as we shared books and quills and ink? Back then, before everything, it didn't mean as much. Perhaps that means it meant more.

Now… now I don't know. I could fill books with the tales of every brush of hands, of all the remembered and forgotten times our hands found each other. I could write until my own hands seize up and my fingers stiffen and I still would have a hundred more stories to tell. A thousand.

The last time I saw you - I say this so often, but this was truly the last time I saw you - we put it all aside for one final farewell. You were preparing to leave, hair tied and coat flapping about your legs. You looked like a foppish pirate. You did not appreciate me telling you that.

(I never told you if it was a compliment or not. You assumed it was an insult. I have always been a fan of swashbuckling.)

We were gathered with the few of our friends who remained so deep into the season, bidding you farewell. Usually, these partings come with excitement; at least, for you and the others. You are always off story-searching and monster hunting, ready for some new, grand adventure.

It is cold, this morning. And far too early to be awake. The roads will be quiet this time of day; you will not be waylaid as you journey north. You will not be seen.

The tingling sense of something is gone. Now there is something deeper, something darker. There are storm clouds on the horizon, and we can all sense them rumbling.

Before you mount your horse, you turn to me one last time. Your eyes are shadowed, and you wear your hat low around your face.

"Valdo."

Who knew such meaning could be packed into two syllables.

"Ju--" I swallow. There is a thorn lodged in my throat. "Jaskier."

You extend your hand. You've not yet put on your leather gloves, but you will need to. It looks like snow.

I take your hand. Your skin is cold. This, we both now, may be the last time we see each other.

We stand hand-gripped in the square, watching each other through the mist. Even in the darkness, I can see the dagger strapped to your hip glimmer. It is not your only weapon.

I squeeze your fingers. "Good luck."

You squeeze back. For a moment, I expect you're going to say something biting. Something cynical. Something dismissive.

"Thank you," you say. Your voice is quiet. "I fear I'll need it."

You're gone in a clatter of horseshoes and a swish of wine-red leather. We remaining few linger in the courtyard till your shadow vanishes across the bridge. When you finally disappear, we can breathe again.

It's Priscilla who speaks first. "He'll be fine," she says. "He always is."

I flex my fingers at my side. My skin tingles. I hope she will be proven right.

I know she will be proven wrong. I know what will befall you, no matter how fast you run.

(Take my hand. Run with me. Run, bard. Run away.)

And when Priss is proven wrong… gods, there will be so much I will regret.

Too much.

#what about the bard #watb #the witcher #jaskier

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🌼 event : @whataboutthebard 🌼

day 13 sept 24

Prompt: Taming the monster | Wuv the bard

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SUN'S GETTING REAL LOW.

I want Jaskier to snuggle in his big fluffy chest now.

#what about the bard #watb #wuv the bard #taming the monster #werewolf!geralt #geraskier #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geralt x jaskier #geralt/jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanart #week event #my art

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I’m no lore expert, but I do think that Witcher canons that leave out The Choice trial miss a critical piece of how the wolf boys view their lots.

For those unfamiliar, The Choice is said to be the first trial that trainees must pass through. As best I can tell, it only appears in book canon. It happens when the boys are around 9 or 10 and is the first, least deadly (relatively speaking), round of enhancements. The boys eat a special diet of mushrooms and herbs and start the really grueling physical training.

The key thing about The Choice is that it’s presented as just that, a choice. In theory, the boys can say no. They could head back down the mountain and seek their fortune elsewhere.

Now, there’s of course a million complications with that. They’re children. They’re unwanted. The world is cruel and they’re just as likely to end up dead if they’re sent out on their own. The Choice isn’t much of a choice at all.

But I think, as humans, we rely strongly on the illusion of choice. Did someone really choose to work a certain job when they applied to a hundred places, heard back from two, and one paid twice as much? In some ways, no. But in other important ways, you sent the applications and you made a selection. It might have been a choice where the alternative was not feasible, but it was a choice. And as a human having some level of agency, any level, is important.

So let’s apply that idea to our boys.

First there’s Geralt. By all accounts he’s been with the witcher’s the longest, to the point where he has barely any memory of the outside world. Kaer Morhen is his home, being a witcher is his destiny. Sure, that’s no choice, but in the same way we have no choice in the family we are born into. We may at times look at other families who seem to be happier, kinder, richer, and wish that ours were different, but there’s rarely a fundamental feeling that someone fucked us over. As Geralt would say, destiny is a bitch. But there’s no one on this mortal plane to direct that anger at, so most of the time we don’t bother.

And what’s more, Geralt has no comparison. Nothing to be angry that he doesn’t have, because being a witcher is all there is. And, other than the likely horrible death, it probably even sounds pretty cool. I’d bet you good money that the fully grown witcher’s wintering in the keep aren’t sharing horror stories while deep in their cups. Not in a culture that values toughness and traditional masculinity. Nope, they’re bragging about their heroics and the best kills of the season. It’s no wonder Geralt has such romantic notions about his own life.

So sure, Geralt was presented a choice. But he didn’t need it, because just like you’ve always been your mother’s child, he’s always been a witcher. Sometimes that sucks, especially later in life when you start to know other mothers, other options, and can compare. But some things are so fundamental to you as a person that if you made any other “choice” and you wouldn’t be you at all.

Next is Eskel. Steady and sure.

From what we can tell, Eskel came to the witcher’s at a normal age, probably around six or seven. Late enough that he knew his family, he knew his town, he knew a little of life outside the keep. We don’t know much about his background other than he was Hillfolk and presumably dirt poor. But he knew a before and he knew an after; he could compare.

So for Eskel, The Choice was, in an important sense, a choice. If he had said no we don’t know what he would be going back to - probably a short life on the streets begging for scraps. But he knew a little of the outside world, knew in a very tangible sense what it was to be human, and he said yes, okay, I’ll give that up.

And I think that a really important factor in why he’s so content with his lot. It might often be six metric tons of shit, and he might sometimes wonder what might have been, or what the hell he was thinking when he said yes. But he said yes, so who is there to blame really?

And then Lambert. My darling angry rat man Lambert.

He came to Kaer Morhen late. Much later than the other boys. He knew damn well that the outside world was shit, but it was his world. His to hate, but his. He never wanted to be a Witcher and he damn well didn’t choose this life.

And this is me stepping out on a limb, but I think it’s really likely he didn’t choose. Not just in a metaphorical sense, but also as in the trials. If The Choice happened around age 9 or 10, Lambert would have missed it entirely. I think it’s really likely that the instructors skipped it altogether, just started shoving mushrooms down his throat as quick as possible, because the older the boys have lower rates of survival and he needed to be put through The Grasses as soon as possible. So even at the most basic level, stripping away any philosophical discussion about what is choice, really, when all your options are shit? Lambert didn’t choose.

Lambert got dealt a shit hand in a game he never wanted to play. No wonder he’s pissed.

#kushielsmercy #witcher meta #witcher trials #musings on the nature of choice #geralt of rivia #eskel #witcher eskel #lambert #witcher lambert

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me drawing geralt and dandelion: they own only one shirt and have to share it between the two of them

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #witcher dandelion #gerlion #geralt x dandelion #witcher art

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gotta drag the bard out of trouble yet again! and pretend you dont have a massive crush on him, nope, not at all.

#geraskier #geralt/jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #the witcher fanart #suggestive