Tumgik
#jaskier is a spirit animal
julek · 2 years
Text
happy birthday, @samstree <3 here's a snippet from the Mortuary AU just for you!
“Okay, okay, gather ‘round, people, It’s time for the birthday boy—”
“He’s a grown-ass man, Eskel.”
“I will not be calling him the birthday man, Lambert, what the hell is wrong with you?” Eskel dismisses his brother’s unhelpful comment with a hand gesture, motioning for everyone to sit on the floor. “It’s time for the birthday boy to make his wishes and blow out the candles.”
“And for us all to finally eat,” Lambert quips. 
Jaskier shakes his head fondly as all of his guests arrange their limbs to fit inside a tight circle around the coffee table, the surface of which has been cleared of stray glasses and tiny colorful bonnets to make room for the cake Yen and Ciri had so lovingly presented to him as their gift. They’re sitting opposite him, both wearing matching pink overalls and getting their cameras ready to snap what will be, without a doubt, the most unflattering pictures of himself he’ll ever see. 
He can’t wait.
Next to him, Lambert has made himself at home on Aiden’s lap, and is arguing with Eskel about the proper way to slice a birthday cake. 
“No, because I saw this TikTok—”
Eskel frowns. “We’ve been over this, Lam, TikTok does not count as a valuable source in this house.”
“Shut up!” Aiden has to grip Lambert’s hips so he doesn’t fall off with how wildly he’s gesturing, wiggling a finger in Eskel’s face. “You know what— we’re gonna use the wine glass method, just because you said that. We’re not cutting the cake with an actual knife.”
“Of course we’re cutting the cake with an actual knife,” says Geralt, emerging from the kitchen, balancing said truly gigantic cake on a perilously small tray. “We’re not doing whatever new life hack you saw on the TikTok.”
Jaskier and Ciri share an eyeroll at Geralt’s terrible case of being a dinosaur, but the cake looks absolutely delicious, so Geralt is spared the bullying as he sets the tray on the coffee table, right in front of the birthday boy.
They all croon out a lovely (and slightly off-tune) version of Happy Birthday as Geralt lights the candles one by one, sitting down beside Jaskier when he’s done, and when Jaskier turns to look at him, his face is washed golden and beautiful and his smile is toothy and he so terribly wants to kiss him, but it would be rude to do so when he’s being serenaded by everyone he loves, so he smiles instead, singing along.
“Make a wish, Jask,” Geralt says when the song is over, and Jaskier does, blowing out the candles one by one, just as they’d been lit. Everyone around him breaks into applause, and Jaskier’s grin is so big it hurts his cheeks. 
“Thank you,” he says to everyone, his eyes a little wet.
“Did you make a good wish?” Ciri asks, curious. 
“I did,” he replies. “Can’t tell you what it is, though, otherwise it won’t come true.”
Ciri nods solemnly — she knows birthday wishes are no joking matter. Before Lambert can get to the wine glasses scattered on the floor, Yen takes a knife seemingly out of nowhere and starts cutting the cake into generous slices, setting them onto the mismatched set of porcelain plates Geralt had broken out just for the occasion. Jaskier helps handing them out, baptizing every slice with a naughty swipe of his finger on the frosting, and gets called out for his crimes. 
A collective groan of pleasure resonates through the room as everyone tries their first slices. 
“So,” Aiden says, his chin resting on Lambert’s shoulder, after a few bites of the pure heaven that is Yen’s cake, “is this a real birthday we’re celebrating, Jask?”
Lambert tsks. “This is obviously a fake one, his birthday-birthday was three months ago. We went to the waterpark, remember?”
Aiden hums, but Eskel frowns. “Wait, wasn’t his real birthday that weekend where we had that cookout back at the farm? Triss made brownies? We got too drunk and slept in the goat pen?”
“You’re all mistaken,” Yen interjects, “it was that night he dragged us out to that horrible club and made us sing karaoke until our voices gave out.”
“But mom,” Ciri says, “didn’t you buy me those skates exclusively for Jaskier’s birthday, when we all went ice skating in the park?”
All eyes fall on Jaskier, who is suddenly very interested in scraping his plate clean. 
“Jask?” Geralt murmurs next to him. 
“Mm?” Jaskier answers without looking up, licking pink frosting from his fingers. 
Geralt leans down to whisper in his ear. “I think they’re onto you.”
Jaskier looks around him, and takes on the defensive. “Why, I couldn’t possibly—” 
“Geralt,” Aiden interrupts, pointing his fork at him. “Surely you must know. What are we actually celebrating right now?”
Jaskier is looking at him with a menacing glint in his eyes. “If you don’t know the answer to this question, Geralt, so help me…”
Geralt clears his throat, crossing his arms over his chest and leaning back against the couch. “Well, of course it’s his birthday-birthday today. You all must’ve gotten confused those last times we hung out, because… because we’ve been planning today for so long. Must’ve gotten that all mixed up, you people.”
“Yeah,” Jaskier agrees, clicking his tongue and settling down beside him. “You people. Not remembering the most important day of the year. Should be ashamed of yourselves.”
Everyone looks suspicious still, but then Yen offers seconds, and the topic is quickly forgotten. 
“Geralt,” Jaskier whispers into his neck. 
“Mm?”
“I love you.”
“Mm,” he replies. “‘M not sure I’m so happy with this scheme you’ve been pulling. They are my family, you know.”
Jaskier presses a kiss to his neck. “But the cake, Geralt. All that cake.”
“Mm,” Geralt concedes. “You’re right. Think we can fool them for one more this year?”
“Us two?” Jaskier says with a grin, pulling him in for a kiss. “We can do anything.”
152 notes · View notes
jasper-the-bard · 27 days
Text
🎶WATCH THAT WITCHER WOOOOOOOOOORRRRRMMMM🎶
(Inspiration: https://www.tumblr.com/penny-anna/678643103311249408/in-kaer-morhen-jaskier-drunk-to-the-tune-of)
(Original art: https://www.tumblr.com/fandom-junk-drawer/679794751815417856/white-spirit-of-darkness-i-got-you-bestie)
Credit to both, but especially to @fandom-junk-drawer , who actually made the art I animated)
145 notes · View notes
thedemonofcat · 5 days
Text
Jaskier had flowers in his hair, not placed there but actually grown. For a long time, Geralt would wake up and notice that blossoms had sprouted among the strands of his bard's hair.
Ever since they’d met, Geralt suspected Jaskier might be at least part Forest Sprite, but Jaskier had no idea. Forest Sprites like Jaskier were rare and precious, and Geralt feared what might happen if people found out about one who didn't even realize what he was.
So, to keep Jaskier safe, each morning Geralt would carefully pluck out the flowers, making sure not to wake him. Geralt thought it best that Jaskier remain unaware of his origins unless he showed other signs of magic.
After their quarrel on the mountain, Jaskier still hadn't learned the truth. It seemed the flowers only bloomed when he was happy, and at that time, his happiness was sparse. Jaskier had started to notice animals acting unusually gentle around him, almost as if they sensed his melancholy and wanted to lift his spirits.
When Geralt brought Jaskier to Kaer Morhen, the bard discovered the truth. Things between them were improving, and they even began courting. Then one night, Jaskier performed for the crowd at Kaer Morhen, and the flowers began to bloom in his hair again. This time, Jaskier was awake to witness the vibrant colours sprouting around him.
106 notes · View notes
pterodactylterrace · 1 year
Text
A powerful mage puts a curse upon Kaer Morhen that turns its inhabitants into their spirit animal.
Geralt turns into a horse
Vesemir turns into a rooster
Jaskier turns into a peacock
Aiden turns into a lion
Coen turns into a raven
Lambert turns into a donkey
The topic for the next ten Yule dinners to come has just been determined.
206 notes · View notes
victimsofyaoipoll · 9 months
Text
Round 2
Tumblr media Tumblr media
Propaganda Under Cut
Yennefer
Constantly villainized because one way or another she gets in the way of a MLM ship (though at least one of them would probably be fine with a poly relationship). In the show version of her, her love interest bound her to him via magic, never told her until someone else brought it up despite it the bond causing them to meet over and over, her love interest didn’t understand why this upset her and brushed it off and still has never apologized for it because apparently it was the only way to save her life, she had better chemistry with Jaskier (the other half of the MLM ship) and had a semi-decent rivals to frenemies thing going on, the show took away her powers (which never happened in the books) to have her go on a pointless quest to get them back that worsened her relationship with her love interest because they had her try to kill her love interest’s adopted child (which now justifies why he doesn’t need to apologize of course), and all of that was after she’d already had an arc regarding sacrifice and how power wasn’t really what she wanted.
she's an incredibly powerful mage and drop dead gorgeous and deserved so much better!!! justice for yen
God forbid women do anything. She either gets hate or is ignored, really classic stuff. And she's Geralt's gf but you know, *gestures at geraskier*
Shinoa Hiiragi
The fandom hated her for getting in the way of Mika/Yuu (she had a crush on yuu). The rare times they didn’t hate her they made her into a fujoshi obsessed with shipping them which isn’t in character at all. In fact if you look at the owari no seraph specials she would ship yuu with kimizuki but no one even cares
One of my favorite characters ever forever and treated heinously by crazed fujoshis that hallucinated she was getting in the way of MikaYuu, which for the record she wasn’t! I mean even if she WAS getting between them it wouldn’t justify the crazy misogyny that got thrown at her but she had a ONE-SIDED CRUSH on Yuu. He didn’t even like her back. What was the issue, then? An unrequited crush is not going to prevent a relationship! Whatever I haven’t even told you about her. She’s Silly. She’s incredibly cunning and a great leader, in fact she is the leader of the anime’s main squad. She’s calculating. She’s a gossip and a prankster and a bit flirty and a bit mean-spirited and she presents herself in a Silly Goofy way, in part to cover up the amounts of angst in her backstory, like my girl has ISSUES. She even has an epic demon weapon that is better and cooler than most other demon weapons but if you ask any fangirl from way-back-when, she’s just a bitch and the personification of evil. and probably homophobic too, even though she has a girl rival-turned-friend which is the gayest trope out there. 
i still am completely fascinated by her character because the way she thinks and approaches things is actually pretty cool, and I thought her crush on the protagonist was actually handled pretty well, and she's pretty respectful/responsible about it. overall she's doing her best, and I love her character
46 notes · View notes
restless-witch · 2 years
Text
Better Not Wake The Baby - Part 1 - The Winter
hey y’all, I’m obsessed with @oldandkinky‘s Honey-verse and a few months ago I started drafting up a fic-- thank you friend for letting me play in your sandbox <3 This isn’t a polished draft, and it’s not all of what I have written/planned, but I figured posting a bit would get me off my ass and writing more. 
Fic Summary: Jaskier isn't helpless. He'd been a shepherd before. He'd killed a wolf before. He'll slaughter again if that's the price of freedom.
Rated M: explicit gore/medical descriptions and miscarriage/abortion aftermath, swearing, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, really gross attitudes towards omegas, abusive relationships, references to fucking, brief suicidal ideation
This fic was current up and to part 17 of Honey - Sometimes the Tunnel Only Leads to Darkness. You'll enjoy this fic more if you’ve read them <3
Witcher 3 + Netflix / This part is rated M / Incomplete
Make your moan of your lot in life Split your mind half crazy Gouge your eyes with a butter knife But it better not wake the baby
-The Decemberists -  What a Terrible World, What a Beautiful World
Lambert carefully scraped the dead tissue in Jaskier's womb- he can hear Geralt scowling in the hall with Vesemir but he focuses on carefully prying the empty sac out from the scarred flesh. There'd been a fight all morning about what to do but Vesemir eventually demanded to check Jaskier's womb again and it was clear there was something wrong with the afterbirth. Another argument about what to do- but between the four only Eskel and Lambert had any experience with birthing animals. It was distasteful to think of Jaskier that way but humans are animals. 
Lambert has the highest tolerance for potions and, before they'd brook an argument,  he'd wordlessly thrown back the whole shot of Cat before kneeling between Jasker's shuddering legs. With his blown out eyes, he could clearly see the ruptured tissue where the baby had been- stubbornly holding on and poisoning Jasker's blood. He'd last used this curette to cut out a siren's vocal chords- 
he doesn't want to think too hard about what kind of fucked up metaphor that made. 
"troublesome little bitch-" Eskel mutters, methodically massaging Jaskier's throat to coax him to swallow the watered down spirits. His face pulls into a scowl, "bet you're enjoying all this attention, whore-" and he wrenches Jaskier's chin up- forcing his head deeper into the furs and jerking his whole torso- 
"fucking shit," Lambert pulls out the curette as fresh blood starts bleeding from the jagged cut- Geralt's pacing stops.
"Handling it?" Vesemir placidly calls through the door.
Eksel and Lambert share a reluctant glance before Lambert gives him a dirty look and Eskel jerks his chin to the door- "Little Flower has a little flesh wound- Lamb'll tend it with the rest"
"can't you just do your part?" Lambert hisses, trying to figure out whether it's better to wait for the new gash to clot up itself or if igni is in order, "or will you beat this horse 'till he's dead?"
"better a dead horse than an useless omega," Eskel snipes back, but after a darting look at Jaskier's greying skin he does go back to persuading his throat to swallow some broth.  Lambert still can't tell how much of Eskel's sour is from jealousy or misogyny. It doesn't really matter- he's feeding both to Geralt. Lambert turned to the side table with his medical kit and gently pressed a fingerful of yarrow into Jaskier's womb- which isn't an ideal way to stop the bleeding but will slow it enough to at least finish excising the necrotic sac. another scar for Jaskier's battered womb. 
one problem at a time. Lambert took a long shuddering breath, wondering if he could afford to pass out himself after this. It takes about half an hour for him to finish cutting away the dead flesh and staunch the bleeding. When he's done and cleaning his tools, Eskel is giving a curiously somber look at the thickly corded tissue. Well, Lambert supposes, it's not that odd to be stricken by a dead wanted baby or an omega's suffering but it's odd that Eskel seems reluctantly pained by Jaskier's suffering. When he doesn't think Lambert can see, Lambert caught him hesitantly rubbing circles on Jaskier's scenting glands. 
He doesn't say anything, fine with mutely cleaning his tools while Eskel tips white honey down Jaskier's throat. But when they can hear Geralt leave the hall to fetch a bath, Vesemir going down to the kitchen to check on supper, Eskel lets out a little sigh and brushes the sweaty hair pasted to Jaskier's forehead. 
"He's a bit young for all this," he mutters out, "barely a man, too young for motherhood." There's a long pause where Lambert tries to think of any response he could give and Eskel continues on, he turns away to the stack of clean cloths and starts wetting one with spirits, "I don't know what Geralt's thinking." 
"I'm thinking we need to bury this," Lambert gestured to the knotted flesh, "and the rest of it while we're at it. This place is haunted enough without a botchling." 
"I'm being serious ass-" Eskel groaned. 
"I am too," Lambert replied, mindlessly re-spooling the ends of their thread, "we need to bury them as soon as the ground softens, can you imagine trying to root one out of this place?"  
"Give Vesemir a broom, a goat, and a week. He'd get it done," Eskel started wiping the clots from Jaskier's thighs, "What are we going to do with him?" 
"Jaskier or Geralt?" 
"Either, both- fuck. He's going to kill him sooner or later, and I don't know what to do when that finally happens," Eskel looked up at Lambert, and Lambert met his gaze. There was something on the edge of frightened in Eskel's gaze, an animal uncertainty that Lambert couldn't pin down, something curiously strange about the way Eskel's hands gently tended to Jaskier's bloodied flesh after the way he'd wrenched him earlier, "Lambert, what are we going to do?"
Lambert thought of a hundred things to spit at him, instead he picked his words carefully, "I think you need to decide if you want to help Jaskier live or help Geralt get rid of him." He swallowed, watching Eskel start mulling the words over, "I know I never want to do this," he gestured to the rotting afterbirth, "again and I know Jaskier is stronger than you think." 
Eskel didn't say anything more and Lambert didn't press. Lambert mutely takes his toolkit away when Geralt brings in the first of the bath water and Eskel leaves after helping Geralt lower him into the tub. 
The two join Vesemir for supper and none mention the empty places at the table. 
.
His health takes a turn for the worse the evening after he lost the second baby- Jaskier later works out he'd lost three days to the brain fever. His memories are fractured and foggy and he thinks he remembers Lambert between his legs and Eskel pouring fire down his throat. 
The day his bleeding stops, Jaskier feels the most clear headed he'd been since the first winter's snowfall in Kaer Morhen. Those days after Eskel's axii left his mind and the chill from the ascent left the marrow of his bones. The fever's barely broken. He wakes up to an empty room and putters over to the window. He closes his eyes and thinks of Essi and his parents and their silly little village. It's time for this to be over- this wrenching back to life and into hell. He leans over the edge and he falls.
Well, he imagines falling. Imagines the delicious slipping away from life. Imagines the final pain of smashing on the rocks this time and being too mangled for the witchers to peel his body off the battlements and leaving him to rot like the bones in the moat. 
Eskel fucking wishes. How he'd gloat that he got Geralt back. How Geralt would let his memory fall away, a footnote in his long story. 
Through the pain rolling up his spine and the crackling salt on his skin, Jaskier feels a new wave of rage and spite and raw grief clawing its way through his body. 
Those fuckers fucking wish.
Jaskier would escape. He'd been stupid and childish and careless before. Geralt tracked him because he'd been predictable. Had leverage over him because he cared about Essi and Lambert. Could hurt him because Jaskier wasn't fast enough. He'd do better. Lambert didn't need protecting. He'd find something Geralt loved and hold it in bondage for Essi.
Geralt was going to kill him eventually: he had his whole lifetime to get faster and stronger and smarter. However long that lifetime was.
Jaskier isn't helpless. He'd been a shepherd before. He'd killed a wolf before. He'll slaughter again if that's the price of freedom.
 .
Laying on his side, looking out the window, brings a clarity of mind Jaskier’s not sure he’s felt in Kaer Morhen before. They’re still in the middling of winter which feels at odds with how much has happened since he was pulled from Roach’s saddle. Come the spring he has no doubts Geralt is going to take him along the Path again. He’s too paranoid about leaving Jaskier alone to possibly leave him with Vesemir, who hadn’t been sympathetic but would draw lines when needs must. Geralt would never give him that kind of reprieve. Even if Jaskier used all his softness and vulnerability to beguile Geralt into letting him stay, Jaskier wasn’t too proud to admit he didn’t have the skills to survive the Kadwaeni countryside if he managed to escape. Temeria or Redania would be much better. 
Geralt came into the room, so quietly Jaskier is sure he wouldn’t have known if it wasn’t for the damned bond which gave him a preternatural sense for where the alpha was.  He can feel a tense shiver rolling up his spine but instead he forces himself to soften- “lay with me Geralt?”
“What do you want?” Geralt said, his voice still by the door. Jaskier could cut the tension with a knife, he thought wryly, if Geralt ever let him hold one again. 
“I want to talk to you about something,” Jaskier said, hoping he sounds tired and innocent. It must work because he can feel the thick blanket pulled from his sweaty skin and Geralt lines their bodies up, his broad chest pressed against Jaskier’s back and his arm loosely held around his aching middle. He hesitantly places his arm over Geralt’s, “do you remember what you said? That things could be… could be good between us?”
“If you let them,” he can feel Geralt’s rumbling voice through his ribs. Geralt is warm, always warm unless the potions are coursing chills or shuddering hot through him, and Jaskier very purposefully eases himself deeper into Geralt. He forces himself into being pliant and soft.
He gently draws Geralt’s hand in front of his face, daintily traces the dips and lines of his palm. He keeps his touch sparing, cautious and light. “Geralt,” he breathes, “can we try that?”
Jaskier felt Geralt lock up behind him, the fingers in front of his face giving a little reflexive spasm. The arms around him becoming a gibbet- a cage perfectly enclosing his body. “Why now, little bird?” Geralt muttered, “why should I trust you won’t stab my eye this time?”
“Because I’m tired now,” Jaskier lets a warble into his voice and agonizingly curls closer to the arms around him, “Geralt, I’m so tired of fighting, please, please, let’s start over.” Geralt is silent for a long time and Jaskier can feel real hot thick wet sobs rising up his throat choking him. “I’ll be good,” he cries into Geralt’s palm, “please I’m so tired I’ll be good I'm sorry I kept ruining it Geralt I’m ready to be good please Geralt please be good. Let me be good please-“
He feels panic roiling up when Geralt eases himself up and rolls Jaskier on his back, but Geralt seems only interested in studying Jaskier’s face. It’s splotchy and mottled he knows, his hitching sobs stopping him from saying anything besides “please” as he tries to see Geralt’s face through his tears. He wonders if he’s overplayed it and flinches from the blur he sees on the edge of his vision, but it’s Geralt’s hand cupping his cheeks and brushing the tears off. 
“Easy there,” Geralt murmurs and his hand moves. If Jaskier liked him, he’d call it something close to caressing; Geralt paws at his sides, his arms, his shoulders, thumbs along his bond mark until Jaskier’s breath evens and his eyes clear up a bit. Geralt leans down until their foreheads and the tips of their noses are just touching and looks into Jaskier’s eyes. He rubs their noses together, scenting the air and Jaskier, “hello little bird, my name is Geralt.”
he's hiccuping around the snot in his throat and warbles out, "Hello Master Witcher, I'm Jaskier," he feels nearly proud when he snuffles, "I'm sure you've heard a lot of things about me, care to guess which ones are true?"
Jaskier’s earned a reprieve. 
"I'd like it if you courted me properly: songs and flowers and all that. We could start again like we should have." 
 .
  Some of the wolves are better at hiding their surprise and trepidation than others. None of them comment that the underlying stench of misery doesn't lift, but Geralt's indifference to it has left the other wolves to tread carefully. As expected, Vesemir takes Jaskier’s changed attitude with the natural grace and detachment he’d displayed for the entirety of Jaskier’s stay in Kaer Morhen. Little changing besides occasionally revealing some little nicety of life that Geralt appreciated; things Jaskier could do like arranging the bottles in his pack to face outward neatly or rubbing his scent on Geralt’s bracers.
Lambert kept a wary distance, keeping just out of Jaskier’s reach. Seeming caught somewhere between not wanting to rock the boat and deeply curious about Jaskier’s changed tune. That was hard. Keeping his face demure and calm while Lambert’s eyes bored into his skull and Jaskier could nearly feel the questions about to tumble out of his mouth. 
Eskel was a different story. He wondered if Eskel could see right through him, hovering around each corner Jaskier dared to tread these days. He didn’t exactly say anything- not anything new anyway- but there was a new intensity to the way he badgered Geralt about his useless omega and a sneer curling around his lips when Geralt snapped back at him. 
He knew Witchers couldn’t read minds- at least not the wolves. If they could it wouldn’t have taken any of them very long to realize how badly Jaskier wanted out. Eskel could get him to open his mind with Axii, but he doubted Geralt would stoop to that again so soon. He didn't think Geralt was the type to tempt fate like that so soon. Geralt- 
Geralt was... a lot. Jaskier was sure if this was how Geralt wooed him from the start, he'd be love-drunk goner. Geralt had taken to the task of properly courting Jaskier very seriously: mending the holes in his clothes so carefully Jaskier could hardly feel the usually chafing stitches and taking the choicest cuts of meat off his plate for Jaskier. He told Jaskier long detailed, albeit largely technical, stories of his travels on the Path when asked and was mostly chaste when he kissed and held Jaskier good night. He could have pressed the point and made Geralt clear out another room for him to sleep in, but Jaskier could privately admit that the glimmer of hope it gave Geralt was better than trying to rest in the other unaired private quarters of Kaer Morhen for his long-game. In return; Jaskier dutifully digs through the library and reads poems and excerpts from the bestiaries to Geralt in bed, he trains his hands to idly reach out for Geralt when they are beside each other, and asks Geralt to help him memorize what should be kept stocked in their packs when they finally walk the Path again. He figures out which of Geralt's furs is a prized hunt and covers it in his scent.
He doesn't ask Geralt about the nights he is absent from their beds nor question the challenging grin Eskel gives him when he scents the other witcher over Geralt. Eskel can fuck Geralt on every surface of Kaer Morhen if he wishes to- if the alternative is fucking Geralt sooner or some catty brawl that draws Geralt's attention, Jaskier is content to let Eskel be smug. 
The days pass in starts and stops and Jaskier notices the changes to his body slowly. He endears himself to Vesemir by asking for chores and training. Geralt rubs his back approvingly after he starts walking and jogging and running the keep; after all, how's he supposed to walk along Roach if his legs are weak as a colt's? The early mornings in the greenhouse teach him about arenaria and hellebore and the proper ways to dry and cure each for Geralt's kit. Vesemir doesn't say anything about being an extra and expensive mouth to feed on the path, but he takes great pains to teach Jaskier the value of reagents and where to look for them himself. 
The first thing he notices is how quickly his legs fill out and thicken past they'd ever been before until they look like a soldier's. That one is easy to ignore, given the steady diet of thick stews Geralt presses into his hands and how the cold winds over the blue mountains hasten his pace over the battlements. 
The second takes longer to notice and when he does is more jarring and unnerving. Looking back, it should have been more clear when he thinks of the little nicks and bruises he'd written off. The perpetual aches and pains his life seems to be held together with. He's alone in the greenhouse, paring down some han brush when he lops off the tip of his ring finger. Hardly a mortal wound to be sure but gods awful painful and bleeding into the soil and needing stitches and he quickly wraps his finger in his apron. He debates calling for help and apparently thinks it over a lot longer than he thought because when he decides to just dash over to the medical cupboard himself and burn the wound closed, the tip of his finger has fused back to his finger. It's still a deep gash, but the little bit that was still attached had begun to knit itself back together. He vomits into a bucket of goat shit, looks at the finger, vomits again and goes to find someone to sew it up. 
Lambert kindly doesn't mention the smell of bile and that night Vesemir smacks the back of his head and forces them all to a dinner of liver and giblets. 
He is cautious and frightened, for one of Kaer Morhen's many lessons is to never get cocky. 
.
it's a stolen moment before the last frost when Jaskier and Lambert are alone in the scullery: he drew Lambert's forehead down to his- "Promise me you'll winter here next year," there's a strange resolve in Jaskier's voice that Lambert doesn't know how to interpret. Brows pressed against each other, Lambert can smell a smokey haze through the acrid stench of misery that always clings to Jaskier. 
"What are you planning?" Standing between the scouring sinks and the wash copper,  Lambert can almost pretend they're somewhere normal. Some little domestic fantasy- working friends at a great house, lovers owning an inn together, young acolytes at the temple, back in his extinct village about to bring the traveling bard Jaskier to his mother.
"Lambert," Jaskier took a long whooshing breath, Lambert's pulled back to reality, back to knowing this is probably the last time he'll see Jaskier before Geralt takes them back on the Path, "Lambert just promise me you'll be here by Saovine."
"Will you be here?" Lambert wasn't sure he wanted the answer, but Jaskier gave a soft little omega croon he'd never heard before and pulled his hands down from Lambert's head. His legs turned to jelly and he gritted his teeth to steady himself as Jaskier gently took his hands and rubbed against the knuckles. Lambert felt miserable himself- felt like a charlatan for preening under Jaskier's sweet little omega softness and Lambert didn't do anything to deserve it besides failing to protect him.
"Maybe, maybe I won't," Jaskier pulled his head back and peered up at him, "but I'll need you if I am." There's a raw weariness in Jaskier's eyes, "after- after the night you promised me you could take care of yourself. You promised. That I didn't need to worry about you. I need you to promise me you'll be back." 
"I could kill him," Jaskier's eyes fluttered shut, his scars winking at Lambert. Lambert isn't even sure where the words come from because for all the idle dreams he'd had of bashing Geralt and Eskel's heads in, he'd never said them aloud with any conviction. Jaskier is quiet for a long time: their breathing and Lambert's racing heart the only sounds in the scullery. 
"I won't make you a kinslayer," Jaskier finally said, opening his eyes to look over Lambert's shoulder, gently pressing him back. Lambert feels a pitiful childish whine climbing up his throat and Jaskier rests his hands on Lambert's chest to settle him. He would if Jaskier asked. 
"I'd kill him for you," he echoed mindlessly and Jaskier hesitantly laid his head on Lambert's shoulder- he'd never done that fully awake or aware. Lambert resisted the urge to hold him, but Jaskier carefully moved his arms to hold Lambert's shoulders. Jaskier wasn't much shorter than Lambert, but perpetually curling on himself made Lambert think of him as so much smaller. 
"Just promise me you'll be here come Saovine," Jaskier murmured into his ear, so softly he barely feels his jaw moving. Lambert holds onto the moment as long as he can, memorizing the smell of Jaskier that's still stubbornly there under all the stress and exhaustion and bile and stale sweat.
"I promise," at that, Jaskier let him go. 
"May Melitele clear your path-"
"- and keep the hungering wolves at bay"
.
A/N- Encouragement and kind words will always make me more excited to write stuff <3 and feel free to dash off a message to me! I haven’t really made any friends in the fandom yet :3c
Thanks for reading, friends!
Rough and tumble ragged drafts on tumblr here: Actual Fic Better Not Wake The Baby
This fic is based on OldandKinky’s Honey-verse and you can also find them here: Honey-verse on Ao3 and OldandKinky on Ao3
and if you like my writing, I’ve also got “Varieties of Exile” 
32 notes · View notes
on-a-lucky-tide · 2 years
Text
One of my favourite headcanons is that Geralt spent the first few years of his friendship teaching Jaskier about personal hygiene.
Jaskier thinks that if he bathes his pores will open, allowing in evil spirits or airborne diseases; he waffles about his humours becoming unbalanced, and Tide Toads.* This is the same guy who eats a whole chicken with his bare hands in the books while Geralt and Yen use a knife and fork.**
I can imagine Geralt took one sniff of that sweaty, hormonal nineteen year old who hadn't changed his shirt in four weeks and proceeded to half drown him in the nearest bath tub, lye soap in hand.
* Sword of Destiny, ** Blood of Elves
(I've been researching the change of hygiene habits from the medieval to the Renaissance period for work. Bathing became less common - linked to Syphillus outbreaks which were connected to bathhouses and a new round of dodgy medical ideas - particularly amongst the upper classes/royalty, who were advised to avoid bathing as much as possible to maintain good health. One Russian ambassador to France noted, “His Majesty [Louis XIV] stunk like a wild animal.” Allegedly, he only had a full body bath twice in his lifetime.)
23 notes · View notes
mysoulspiralbound · 2 years
Text
me: *minding my own business*my brain: What if beauty and the beast witcher au.
Jaskier as Belle obviously. Pretty, but fascinated with art, literature, poetry, and *gasps in mock horror* music. And he just has this wanderlust for adventure he can't have. He might have been a viscount once, but it's too faded from his memory, like Belle, his mother is dead, so it's just him and his kind of disgraced father (oc because i can't think of a character to put here)
Priscilla and Essi run the library together and they are practically family to Jaskier. He's read every book in that place at least once but that won't stop him from reading them again.
Valdo Marx gets to be Gaston because who else it quite that hate-able. He's not even a proper bard, he only knows a handful of town approved songs and that is only to show off to Jaskier despite the number of times he has been told that's not the kind of music Jask likes.
Geralt is the beast because, ya know, unlearning being called a monster and all that. He was cursed by a mage for a perceived slight, but he really was just that socially awkward. The decade or so of isolation not not helped his ability to talk to people in anything other than grunts, Jaskier isn't even really sure if he can speak for a bit, if he hadn't already heard him speak in the deal he's made. Geralt's not even really looking for revenge for the buttercups Jaskier's father picked, he just wants to make sure villagers aren't going to come storm the keep and hurt his family. Jaskier gets it kind of, but dammit he's still trapped here and he's still very vocal about not being happy about it.
Eskel and Lambert are the clock and candle stick respectively. Is giving Lambert the ability to set things on fire with his hands a good idea? No not really, but that most certainly has not stopped me. It fits okay. Also, Aiden's in the background as the feather duster love interest because I love him too much as a character concept to cut him out completely.
Yennefer is the wardrobe but she is more supportive in a snarky way to Jaskier at first. Eventually she kind of starts to care more about him (season 2 vibes) because they're both trapped.
Vesemir gets to be Mrs. Potts because if there is anyone capable of taking care of a bunch of reckless kids/trainees it's him. No it does not take him a day to adopt Jask, give him more credit. Jaskier doesn't come downstairs the first day, he adopts him in two. Ciri, in her adventurous spirit and stubborn need to be independent is chip.
Last but not least, Little Bleater is the footstool. Originally, jask doesn't have a horse, but luckily, animals were not included in the curse, so Roach later fills the role of Philipe.
Anyway, this got really long, so I'm ending it here for now. I might right more for this later though.
25 notes · View notes
bookgeekgrrl · 1 year
Text
My media this week (6-12 Nov 2022)
Tumblr media
📚 STUFF I READ 📚
😍👂‍The Monsters We Defy (Leslye Penelope, author; Shayna Small, narrator) - book blurb: "A woman able to communicate with spirits must assemble a ragtag crew to pull off a daring heist to save her community in this timely and dazzling historical fantasy that weaves together African American folk magic, history, and romance." and let me tell you how much I LOVED this. Love a heist. Love a SUPERNATURAL heist. Love a prickly female protagonist. Just a really fun, satisfying story!
😊The Case of the Undiscovered Corpse (An Alasdair and Toby and Cambridge Fellows Mystery #1) (Charlie Cochrane) - the 'mystery' solution is nonsensical & convoluted but that's not really the point, it's just the macguffin so two sets of amateur sleuths can team up and since I love all the characters I ain't mad about it. What I love most is seeing J&O as elder statesmen, still living their HEA after 50 years.
🥰Stop @’ing Me (It’s Giving me Anxiety) (isthatbloodonhisshirt (wasterella)) - really fun SMAU with music star Stiles and music YTer Derek. Really good characterizations, fun banter, Pringles discourse, absolutely zero realism about how their respective industries function, as the fanfic gods intend. Plus there's lots of great mocked up SM images and original songs BUT what I truly love most is that this author did an entirely duplicate version of the fic WITHOUT images for accessiblity. Fantastic.
💖💖 +88K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖
I love you with my fingers on your sleeping hand (spectreink91) - The Witcher: Geraskier, 7K - reread - good modern 2nd chance romance AU with horse breeder Geralt and pop singer Jaskier
📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺
Ghosts - s2, e6-7
Doctor Who - s13, e7-8
Abbott Elementary - s2, e1-7
Living Single - s1, e5-6
M*A*S*H - s1, e17
Weird: The Al Yankovic Story - which was as delightfully & surrealistically nonsensical as one could hope
🎧 PODCASTS 🎧
Strong Songs - Pink Floyd: The Dark Side of the Moon
Vibe Check - The House Is Burning
The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Laguna Del Diamante
Switched on Pop - The Sound of Sapphism
The Atlas Obscura Podcast - The Wren’s Nest
Still Processing - Summer Renaissance
Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Found in Translation
Richmond Til We Die: A Ted Lasso Podcastz - Ted Lasso S2E10: Funerals Are So Weird
99% Invisible #514 - Train Set: Track Two
Ologies with Alie Ward - Discard Anthropology (GARBAGE) with Robin Nagle
One Year Plus - 1942: The Info Wars of World War II
The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Moving Monuments with the Places Team
🎶 MUSIC 🎶
Lena Hall's Obsessions
Doctor Who Series 13 - Flux (Original Television Soundtrack)
'60s Folk Rock
Essential New Wave
Buena Vista Social Club
An Evening With Silk Sonic [Silk Sonic]
Presenting Blue Öyster Cult
Electronic Film Scores
Songs From Animated Movies
"Weird Al" Yankovic
Classical Focus
3 notes · View notes
joeybateydearly · 4 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Creator begging for feedback (1240, colourised)
6K notes · View notes
craftgamerzz · 4 years
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Ya alls, it’s @geraskierweek.
Day #1 : Soulmates
26K notes · View notes
fallen-angel-92 · 3 years
Text
The Story of the Mouse
Chapter One: The Story Begins
Tumblr media
Pairings: Geralt of Rivia x��Yennefer of Vengerberg; Eventual Geralt of Rivia x OFC
Rating: G
Summary: There is a story. A story told by a lone mouse. The story holds all of her pains, sorrows and her defeats. But it holds her greatest triumphs and her hope. Here is the story of how the mouse became who she is now and how she meets the many animals that would become friends. And how one would become her heart.
A/N: I would like to thank @tilltheendwilliwrite , @bolontiku and @henrycavillobsessed​ for their wonderful support and for being wonderful inspiration! This my first Witcher fic. I hope you enjoy! <3
The wind howled into the deepest night. The trees of the forest bent forward and backwards under the winds might. The panes of glass rattled within its home on the small cottage, while the warmth of a fire crackled on the inside. A lone woman sat upon the ground in front of the fireplace listening to the winds and wolves that howled following it. She wrapped herself in the thick furs, that she had been gifted with not long ago by her husband. She lifted her hand to gently run it through her short dark brown hair as she allowed her hand to return to her side underneath the furs.
However, the sounds of small feet hitting the wooden floor brought her out of thoughts. Quickly she turned her head slightly to the opening to her right, noticing two sets of yellowish colored eyes staring at her with fear. Letting her plump upturn slightly as she called out softly,
“What's wrong my darlings?”
She watched as the two stepped into the light revealing twin boys, both were holding each other's hand.
“Scared. Mama..” Rezso murmured out fearfully.
She smiled at them warmly, lifting her arms up, causing the furs she was under to open up allowing her two sons to quickly scurry into her lap. She then wrapped them underneath the furs, pulling them closely to her chest. She placed a gentle kiss upon their heads, before running her hand through their soft silver white strands of hair. Despite both of them being twins, her sons were noticeably different, with Rezso inheriting more of his father’s personality, especially his stubbornness as well as his interest in fighting and manners of hunting. Tamaska, on the other hand, was more like her. Always wanting to learn something new, whether it was about crafting building or learning the spiritual arts.
“Would you like to hear a story, little ones?” She asked her children softly, as they nuzzled closer to her.
Her sons looked up at her and nodded their heads at the same time causing her to giggle slightly before she began to speak,” I’ll tell you about the tale of the mouse-”
Once she was sure she had her children’s attention, she began to her tale:
Long ago in a forest far beyond the realm of man. Beyond the realm of Chaos and Order. A lone mouse was born. The mouse, though small and insignificant to many of the animals that lived within the forest, was one of the most loving and caring creatures. Through her actions she gained the attention of the great Achak Tree. The Achak Tree could sense that the mouse was very lonely despite being surrounded by many other animals. As thanks for caring for others for her kind soul, the Achak Tree presented the mouse with a friend in the form of a large brown bear.
At first the mouse was extremely shy of the bear, as she was with any animal bigger than herself, but slowly as time progressed the two became inseparable. However, no happiness lasts forever. One evening, as the sun took it’s leave of the sky to give the moon its glory, a dark force slithered into the woods. The mouse could feel it coming, and began to shake her friend away as they two had fallen asleep for the night. Just as the bear woke, she could see the darkness heading their way, quickly the bear cradled the mouse close to her fur covered body before she quickly began to run. The mouse looked up from the bears paw and asks with fear,
"What is it? What's coming for us, Bear?"
"An old evil, mouse. They wish to take away something that you have," the bear replied, firefly.
"But what do I have? I am but a mouse. I am nothing special!" The mouse cried out with horror.
The bear did not have time to answer her small friend, as the darkness began to move faster the bear quickly made her way into a nearby cave. The cave was cold and damp. The walls were rough, jagged, and were littered with ancient glowing stones of the souls long since passed. Ancient symbols were strewn about the cave, however, neither the bear nor the mouse had the time to look at them. Sensing that time was short the bear ran deeper into the cave. Deeper and deeper the bear and mouse went until they arrived within a grandeur cavern. In the center stood a large tree; the bark an almost a deep blue, the leaves upon the tree were a beautiful bright white, some fell and reminded the mouse of the falling snow.
There was a blue light illuminating from the trees center with several blue lights brightly shining within smaller holes near the tree's roots. The roots themselves were vast, growing upon the walls, and from the earth beneath. As the two approached a bit closer, they realized a large body of water surrounded the tree. The bear gazed upon the water thoughtfully, however, a echoing male voice began to speak to them,
*You have come, young mouse. You as well young bear.*
The mouse blinked in surprise, however, she was unable to make words as she looked upon the tree in awe.
“Forgive us for trespassing, but I am in need of a hiding place for my friend! An evil approaches!” The bear whimpered out.
The mouse quickly turned her head to her friend with worry etched into her face. The Achak Tree began to glow brighter, suddenly, stones began to spring up from the water that surrounded it. The bear pressed the mouse as close as possible to her chest before she slowly began to jump from stone to stone. Once they were upon the earth that the Achak Tree sprouted from, a hole formed near the heart, small enough for a mouse to fit. The mouse did not have time to speculate what was going to happen before she was pushed inside the hole by her dear friend.
“You must remain here, Mouse. The Achak Tree will protect you. You are special!” The bear spoke confidently.
The mouse feeling tears well within her eyes was quick to try and run back toward her friend as soon as she was set within the hole. However, the Achak Tree quickly placed vines made of bark and plants in front of her.
“I am not special! I am not! I am but a mouse! Please do not leave me my friend! You are my only friend.” The mouse wept as she saw her dear friend quickly look at her apologetically.
“Good bye, my friend!” She called out to the mouse as she ran back out of the cave.
“No! No! Bear!! Bear, don’t leave me alone! Bear!” The mouse yelled out as she slammed her little hands against the bark. Loudly she wept, as she fell onto the ground, her soul felt tormented as she felt her friend was not going to come back.
*Forgive me, young mouse. She was your friend. You are special and you are needed.* The Achak Tree spoke softly, fatherly.
“Why am I special, Mighty Tree… Why me? I am but a humble mouse. I am weak and hold no special abilities like the rest of the world. And now I am alone once more…” The mouse wept.
*In time you will understand, young mouse. I am afraid there is no time to mourn, Bear. You must go where you are needed. No fear. For I will send you with someone to accompany you. You will not be alone. Safe travels, young mouse. Until we meet again.* The Achak Tree spoke with certainty. 
Just then the small space that the mouse occupied within the tree began to slowly glow. Before the mouse could understand what was truly going on, she could feel herself falling and falling. The mouse closed her eyes wishing for the falling to stop and when she opened them up, she was greeted to the sight of an unknown forest. Slowly she stood up, looking around in worry when she heard a rustling in front of her. A small white head popped out of the nearby bushes, causing the mouse to jump slightly in surprise.
Her eyes gazed back into large black eyes, the white pupils seemed to light up brightly as if happy to see her and it was then that she wouldn’t be alone again. Despite the loss of her dear friend, she now had another to help her heal from her loss and help her in this new world she was now in.
“And thus started the journey of the mouse,” She finished, giggling when she saw her sons scrunching their faces into a pair of pouts.
“Next, Mama!” Tamaska demanded cutely.
However, before she could say anything more the sound of a heavy lock coming undone, echoed through the small house. Quickly, her sons removed themselves from her and began to quickly race toward the door. Just as the door opened the two boys launched themselves at the familiar figure.
“Papa!!” The boys cried out happily as their father scooped them up into his arms.
“I trust you pups have been behaving for your mother?” He asked with a chuckle as his bright yellowish eyes turned to look at her.
She stood up from where she sat, the fur blanket still wrapped around her as she quickly padded over to the door closing it behind her husband.
“Our children have been behaving, oh husband mine. But I would love it if you would have closed the door behind you. Don’t need our pups catching cold.” She playfully scolded her husband.
He let out a soft chuckle as she walked over to the three most precious people and wrapped her arms around them as best as she could. Looking up at her husband, she watches him with amusement as he bends down and kisses her on the lips causing her sons to playfully wrap their arms around his neck to try and stop him from kissing her. Breaking apart they both looked at their sons with amusement before saying,
“I am happy you are home safely, Geralt. Come, my sons, you need to be off to bed. Say goodnight to your father.”
Both boys allowed a small pout to appear on their faces causing her to shake her head as she gently reached to take the boys from him.
“Go with your mother, pups. You need your sleep.” Geralt stated sternly to his sons as he shifted them so she could take them from him.
Once she had her sons securely within her arms she looked at Geralt lovingly and spoke softly,
“I’ll get you a bath ready love and warm you something to eat. I know you traveled long and hard.”
“I can do my own bath, Ailbhe.” Geralt rumbled out causing her to roll her eyes at him.
Geralt narrowed his eyes at her, as he shifted his satchel off his broad shoulders, placing it near the door along with his sword.
“Careful, Mouse. You know what happens when you roll your eyes at me.” Geralt growled out playfully.
Ailbhe stuck her tongue out at him before walking past him, making sure to keep her backside to the wall, to ensure he did not get her behind as he often did when she gave him cheek. She could hear him chuckle under his breath, when she was out of his sight, she brought her sons into their room and placed them each on their bed. She made sure to cover them each with their fur blankets. As she did so Tamaska asked quietly,
“Why, papa, call you, mouse, mama?”
Ailbhe turned to her son giving him a smile as she softly replying,
“It is because I am smaller than him.”
As Ailbhe placed a kiss upon their cheeks, she could hear the sounds of little hooves hitting the wooden flooring. Turning her head she instantly took notice of the small white little figure who peered up at her before letting out a small excited noise and jumped onto the bed.
“Silly little Ori.” Ailbhe giggled quietly as they crawled next to her son Rezso, curling into a small ball and returned to sleep.
Smiling at the three sleeping, she slowly crept out of their room, closing the door behind her leaving it but a crack open. Slowly she made her way toward her and Geralt’s room, within which she could see Geralt relaxing in the large tub, opposite of their bed. After entering, Ailbhe closed the door behind her and walked over quietly. Despite his eyes being closed, she knew better.
“Asleep are our little ones.” Ailbhe announced as she sat herself on the edge of the tub.
“Hmm.” Geralt hummed back in response causing her to shake her head with amusement.
They both sat in silence for a few moments, before Geralt spoke breaking it,
“I was asked about you and the children today when I entered the town.”
“Oh? And what did they ask about?” She hums out as she gets back up, walking over to their bed and takes her blanket and places it upon the bed. She then begins to remove her clothing until she has nothing on.
“They wished to know when you would be visiting again,” Geralt replied as he slowly opened his eyes, turning them to see her approaching him.
Giving him a simple smile she gently placed a hand upon his back and said coyly,
“Slide forward, my wolf.” 
Once more Geralt hummed, before doing as she asked, allowing her to carefully get into the warm water behind him. As soon as she was comfortable, Ailbhe hands went to Geralt’s shoulders and gently pulled him back toward her, causing him to lean against her. She hummed as she began to gently run her fingers through his long white locks of hair, causing him to hum and relax into her hold. As he placed his head upon her shoulder, Geralt placed his hands upon her knees and began to slowly rub circles with his thumbs on the sides.
“I never did thank you did I?” Ailbhe murmmed to him.
Geralt tilted his head slightly to look at his wife, though it wasn’t expressed on his face, she could see the confusion within his eyes.
“For loving me for so long. I know that I am at times I am not at my best, but despite those times you have stuck by me. You have given me children that I once thought I would never have. So thank you, Geralt.” She spoke softly leaning her head against his as she placed a kiss upon his cheek.
Geralt didn’t say anything as he shifted so he faced her, eyes glazed with a fiery passion. Ailbhe felt him shift around so he faced her completely, she could feel his large hands grip her thick hips and pulled her close. As began to stand, Ailbhe quickly wrapped her arms around his neck and her legs wrapped around his hips. There were no words needed as Geralt carefully removed them both from the bath and brought them toward the bed. The candles that illuminated the room, went out leaving the couple in a dark room where the moon, now shining brightly, gave light.
As he laid, Ailbhe down into the middle of the bed, he gently laid his hand upon her cheek and used his thumb to caress her lips before dipping down and laying a kiss upon them. Underneath the moon, the couple gave their bodies, love and souls to one another once more. The stars shone brightly above the small house, and soon time slowly began to revert backwards as the tale once told became alive once more.
And thus the tale of the mouse began once more.
12 notes · View notes
polished-jade · 4 years
Text
I have never seen the Witcher. 
I have never read the books, or played the games, I know nothing about it. 
And yet I learned how to play toss a coin to your witcher today, it has been stuck in my head for four hours, and i spent the last 45 minutes reading fanfiction about jaskier and geralt. 
WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME 
50 notes · View notes
serpentine-owl · 4 years
Text
I can’t get the idea of a modern au where Jaskier exclusively uploads original songs onto his youtube channel, and then one day uploads a cover like this:
https://youtu.be/C0_jRJmNPhc
Just...the outfit...Jaskier obviously singing the song to Geralt...the woods...the vocals...
Don’t know wtf Geralt is up to in this au, most put him as a bodyguard but I quite like the idea of him being Jaskier’s cameraman whose completely clueless to Jaskier’s obvious attempts at flirting
25 notes · View notes
lambden · 2 years
Text
here's another cheesy fill for @jaskierrrrrr! thank you for sending multiple, I'm having a ton of fun writing these <3 it feels like a throwback to classic Geraskier fandom in the best way!
29. You’re leaving for something dangerous and I can’t help but kiss you G, 942 words, canon era + no warnings
Jaskier stands stupidly in the doorway to the long-abandoned barn, watching Geralt oil his sword with an intensity that could better be applied to a very similar action. But he can’t even bring himself to tease the witcher, fluttering nerves preventing him from mustering any sort of confidence. Geralt said it himself— this contract could possibly be fatally dangerous. Jaskier should try to lift the man’s spirits however he can, or at least find the words for a proper goodbye.
Keeping the quaver in his voice to a minimum, he requests, “What kind of materials go into an oil like that? Smells foul.”
Geralt glances his way, expression curious. Maybe he’d forgotten Jaskier was here. This is only their second season travelling together, and Jaskier can tell that the witcher isn’t used to having regular company. Sometimes on the road he begins to speak before abruptly cutting himself off. After a few months of witnessing the strange habit, Jaskier had come to realize that Geralt was accustomed to chatting with his horse, and had no desire to strike up conversation with someone capable of actually replying.
He should be insulted, probably, that the witcher is more talkative with the horse than with him. He definitely shouldn’t find it oddly charming.
Surprisingly, Geralt answers, “Most oils are just animal parts combined with herbs or flowers. Tallow and stems, usually.”
Prosaic as ever, but Jaskier will have to take whatever he can get as fuel for his work. He wonders what epic tale he’ll spin this adventure into. The witcher stows his silver sword and turns away, and Jaskier, fighting a shudder, asks, “And it’ll protect you?”
“My blows will have more of an impact.” Geralt shrugs with one shoulder. “My signs will protect me, so quit worrying. I can smell your fear from here.”
“Forgive me if I don’t like the idea of you fighting off a whole family of vengeful ghosts on your own,” Jaskier scoffs quietly, kicking a clod of dirt away from the barn. When he glances up, he’s surprised to see Geralt looking back his way, peering over his shoulder at Jaskier almost expectantly. Concern overflowing, Jaskier bleats out, “Are you sure there’s nothing else you can do to prepare? Can I… how can I help?”
Something in the witcher’s expression softens, making him look younger. He shifts between his feet and leaves no prints in the hay, light-gaited and shadowless in the quickly fading twilight. He’ll need to go soon— fighting these monsters could take all night. But he makes no move to leave just yet, golden eyes lit up with their own unique magic. “Stay here,” Geralt growls. “Don’t try to follow me.”
“But what if—”
“No,” the witcher insists, baring his fangs.
“You didn’t even—”
“Doesn’t matter. If I’m not back by dawn, take Roach and go.”
“Is it always going to be like this?” Jaskier stomps his feet like a child as he exits the safety of the doorway, thundering towards the witcher. It’s less satisfying than he’d like it to be, boots only making quiet thumps against the dirt. He doesn’t relent anyway, throwing his hands in the air. “Are you always going to leave me so… so…”
Geralt stares and offers no response.
“Bard, I’m leaving,” Jaskier mimics Geralt’s deadpan. That, at least, gets an eyeroll out of the man. “I will most certainly die and I’ve already accepted this. Please take care of my one true love: the fucking horse, of course.”
Something he says must touch a nerve as the witcher bristles, then retorts, “I never asked you to join me.”
“You never asked me to leave, either!” Jaskier closes the distance between himself and Geralt, wishing he’d worn a better doublet for this. He fishes around in the breast pocket, finally producing a handkerchief that he’s been carrying around since Oxenfurt. “Here, you great big bastard. If you won’t let me come along and you won’t do anything further to prepare, then I insist you take this.”
He holds out the clean linen square and Geralt stares as though Jaskier has offered him a bouquet of flowers. The witcher doesn’t voice aloud ‘how the fuck is this meant to help protect me’, but his derision is clear when he drawls, “I never believed that you were a noble til now. Is this your favour?”
“No,” Jaskier says, summoning all his courage to thrust the fabric into Geralt’s hand and close his fingers around the witcher’s palm. “This is.”
In their two years of knowing one another Jaskier has spent many moons fantasizing about this, but the reality is far less intense and more comforting than he imagined. Geralt’s mouth isn’t so sinfully hot that he finds himself stripping out of his clothes, but instead easy peace floods his heart and quells his worries. The evening breeze wafts over them and even though Jaskier only presses his lips to Geralt’s for a very brief perfunctory kiss, the warmth lingers after he tears himself away.
Suddenly terrified of the witcher’s reaction, Jaskier turns and flees towards the barn. He only stops when he reaches the doorway, turning to see Geralt still standing exactly where Jaskier had left him— lips still parted, eyes still sharp, handkerchief still gripped tightly in his fist. As casually as he can without throwing up, Jaskier says, “Go on then, you’d better be off before it gets too late! Good luck, Geralt.”
Geralt twitches as though he means to say something more, but he only nods, pursing his lips into a frown. “Stay here,” he repeats, as though Jaskier really needs reminding.
And then, when the witcher reaches the edge of the barnyard, he turns back to glance over his shoulder once more. Haltingly, he adds, “I’ll come back.”
530 notes · View notes
Photo
Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media Tumblr media
Jaskier ✨ 
...is my spirit animal
129 notes · View notes