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#jaskier is in that field
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Jaskier may had have a déjà vue when that soldier charged him with an axe 😅
Nice catch though !
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And this face is perfect : Jaskier on a battle field 🥰
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penandinkprincess · 1 year
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okay but i’m laughing at the idea of kaer morhen having to have rules of engagement for squabbles (esp among pups) bc pack mentality means that small fights can get really dangerous if you have a bunch of people piling on 
which means playing by hockey rules 
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fight breaks out? (gently) (gently, LAMBERT) grab whoever is closest to you and both of you stay out of it. 
and even when their numbers are reduced, it’s still habit that’s been driven into them 
which means that one day, a squabble breaks out at the breakfast table over who stole whose roll, and suddenly jaskier is lifted up into a hug like O.O. he’s not complaining but. um. uh. what’s...happening????
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kenobihater · 10 months
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roachandrenfri · 1 year
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I literally ship all the characters with all the other characters, what the fuck do you think an imagination is *for*?
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astaldis · 10 months
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That will fill you with horror
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Chapter 4/5 of “You’d be wise to beware”
Prompts: Asphyxiation, Surgery, Allergic reaction, Short of breath, Loss of consciousness, Vomiting, Field medicine, Wicked wings, Vicious venom, Puncture wound
Fandom: The Witcher
Characters: Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier, Cahir
Rating: Mature
“Geralt!” Jaskier and Cahir shout almost simultaneously, shocked to see their friend go down. The huge, winged beast must have got him somehow. They both run toward him as fast as they can. Hopefully, it is nothing serious, nothing a Witcher potion and perhaps the one or other bandage cannot fix.
Cahir is first to reach him. Lying supine, Geralt looks ghastly pale underneath all the blood, but his eyes are open and he is breathing. Good. Cahir kneels down by his comrade’s side.
“Geralt, what’s wrong?" he asks, scanning his friend’s body for visible injuries that might have caused his collapse. However, with all the monster blood on him, it is difficult to tell if he is injured and bleeding himself. As far as he can see, there are no obvious tears in his shirt or pants, or gaping wounds.
“Got me with its tail, left shoulder,” Geralt grunts through gritted teeth.
“Venom?”
Geralt grunts again. It sounds like a yes. Fuck. Cahir has a closer look at the beast. It is huge. Definitely bigger than the wyvern he killed just a few days ago. At first glance it looks quite similar to the black ornithosaur. A wide open, menacing maw full of sharp white, conical teeth in a narrow, triangular head, the purplish forked tongue lolling onto the blood-covered stone. It also has a long, snake-like neck and enormous, bat-like wings. But the wings’ membrane as well as the beast’s scales are of a very light, slate blue colour, not so much different from the surrounding rocks. They reflect the sunlight so strongly, the creature's contours are blurry and it is hardly possible to look at it for longer than a few moments without feeling blinded. Cahir blinks. The tail, what does its tail look like? He forces himself to glance at the dead monster again, squinting and shading his eyes with one hand. The tail does not end in the wyvern-typical trident but bears one single, stiletto-like sting protruding from a bulbous structure. A venom bladder? Like in the tail of a scorpion? Cahir has never seen anything like it in the books about dragons and other draconids. Is it something new that has arrived to the continent via the monoliths? Damn it. Hopefully, it is not lethal, at least not for a Witcher.
“Which potions do you need?” he asks Geralt. Of course, it is better to ingest the elixirs before a fight, but many can also be used as healing potions in case of an injury.
"Golden Oriole," the Witcher pants, "and Lion's Mane. In the holster."
Cahir has not studied Witcher potions as much as monsters since he is not a real Witcher and would die if he took any of them, but from what he knows about the requested potions, they make sense. Lion's Mane works as a general pain killer while Golden Oriole is an elixir used by Witchers and mages to both prevent and treat poisoning from many sources, such as corpse-venom from a graveir, common snake and spider venoms, the venom of wyverns, basilisks and of numerous other monsters. He scans through the several potions vials strapped to Geralt's thigh. The flask with the Golden Oriole is easy to recognise by the potion's golden colour. Another one filled with a whitish liquid sports a lion's head on the stopper. Must be the Lion's Mane. Cahir takes both vials out of the black leather holster and, while Jaskier supports Geralt's head, holds them to the Witcher's pale lips, one after the other. Grimacing, Geralt downs the content of the Lion's Mane and half of the Golden Oriole. Then he lies back down with a groan.
"I'll have a look at your shoulder now," Cahir warns and carefully turns his friend over a little. "Jaskier, hold him like this."
While the bard keeps Geralt in position, Cahir draws a dagger from his belt and cuts open his friend's blood-soaked shirt at the back of the left shoulder. There is a small puncture wound in the muscle directly below the glenohumeral joint. The tissue around it is puffy and irritated, however, besides this, the injury looks pretty harmless. Too bad it obviously is not, otherwise Geralt would not have dropped to the ground like a sack of potatoes. Cahir pours the rest of the Golden Oriole over the wound. There is a sizzling sound and a yellowish vapour rises from the injured spot. Geralt moans, biting his lips. After only a minute, the wound looks much improved, though. It does not even need a bandage as the ugly hole in the skin has closed up almost completely. Gently, Jaskier lets Geralt slide back onto the rocky ground, breathing a sigh of relief. The potions seem to help. Not only has the wound healed surprisingly fast and nicely, but Geralt does not appear to be in as much pain as before. His jaws and fists are not clenched in agony anymore like when they found him. Still, something must be wrong. The white-haired Witcher is becoming increasingly short of breath and does not make any move to stand up. Not good.
“What else do we do?” Jaskier asks worriedly and takes his friend’s hand in his. It feels awfully cold and clammy. Fuck. Geralt does not look good at all despite the potions.
“I’m sorry,” Geralt rasps softly, struggling for air. He closes his eyes. “Should have - listened to you.”
“What are you talking about? Geralt?” Jaskier’s shakes his friend’s shoulder when he fails to react to the bard's question. “Geralt!” With effort, the Witcher opens his eyes again.
“Seems they do exist. Your monsters,” he gasps. “The flying drake—”
That will fill you with horror. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
Continue reading on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47067388/chapters/118846387
@mediwhumpmay​ 
@whumpay​ 
@witchermonstermayhem​
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oh2e · 1 year
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Geralt is just so good. He’s gentle and kind and just and caring. He is also quick witted and fast and deadly but that doesn’t mean he is mean. He gives second and third chances to people that deserve it and even to those that think they don’t. He’s just so so good.
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arcaneviolence · 2 years
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mermaid au FEATURING MY OC FELIX MY BELOVED 
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kaori04 · 8 months
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Jaskier and Radovid having their melodrama going full speed in the midst of the war field while ppl around are dying is the funniest part this season
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So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"
And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"
Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.
When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)
Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.
Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.
Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.
Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.
Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.
Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)
Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.
Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.
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thedemonofcat · 16 days
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Like all mortals, Jaskier had died. Tragically, he fell victim to the chaos of a Nifflgaard raid in Oxenfurt.
Discovering Jaskier's lifeless form amidst the casualties, Geralt's memories of that day were filled with the grim task of retrieving Jaskier's body and tenderly placing him on Roach. Choosing a field of flowers as Jaskier's final resting place, Geralt hoped it would be a fitting tribute to the bard.
In the ensuing months, Geralt made regular pilgrimages to Jaskier's gravesite. One day, during a visit, Geralt noticed a disturbance in the earth, as if someone had clawed their way out from the depths of the grave.
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spielzeugkaiser · 1 year
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You said Lambert would have a field day with deaged Geralt and Jaskier? Would he be a menace? Would Eskel melt at them being all tiny?
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Lambert doesn't know how to deal! He's not prepared for a Geralt who looks at him wide eyed (brother??) and doesn't say anything. (Geralt is absolutely the kid that needs some time till he warms up with people).
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annmarcus63 · 1 year
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Coën tells Vesemir that he saw something remotely large flying over the old stronghold to the west. Everyone but Geralt is thrilled. Apparently, they've been waiting for an opportunity like this, a chance to take Ciri with them to fight her very first beast as a witcher trainee. 
Lambert, Cöen, Geralt, Ciri and Yen are getting ready to take off the very next morning when Geralt asks Jaskier if he wants to come too. Jaskier tries to hide his surprise under a nonchalant facade, but he can't fool the witcher. The bard accepts the offer not a second later. It seems that his strategy is working after all, Geralt never asked if he wanted to come on a hunt before. It seems, Jaskier thinks with a lump on his throat, that he was in fact the problem after all. 
It's a short walk to the stronghold. Ciri observes the witchers track the beast, she's a fast learner. Jaskier watches too from an unobtrusive safe distance. Until all goes to hell. A royal archgriffin followed by its mate lands on the field taking everyone by surprise. Someone starts shouting orders, one archgriffin traps Lambert under its claws. It's a complete chaos. Suddenly the earth starts shaking, a roar swipes the air, Jaskier's blood goes cold when he sees a big ugly horned creature bolting from the trees. A chort. The new arrival takes everyone by surprise. Ciri ends up cornered by the chort, she has nowhere to go. Geralt is too far away; Yennefer is helping Lambert and Cöen; Ciri has lost her sword and the beast is about to bolt towards her. He acts without thinking. Nothing can't happen to her, he won't let it, even if it feels like he's running to his death. Geralt won't care, but he will if it's Ciri, he'd blame himself. It'd be Renfri all over again.  He won't let it happen. Jaskier shouts with all his might while grabbing Ciri's sword from the grass where she dropped it. He grabs the sword with both hands and plunges it into the beast's rear. Not used to handling swords, his hands slip through the blade, he feels the skin of his palms opening, like butter under a hot knife, followed by a river of blood. Someone it's shouting his name; he thinks it may be Ciri. The chort roars annoyed and turns to the bleeding bard. 
It happens in an instant. He is thrown through the air; a flash of pain explodes in his chest and grows to a cruel entity. He wishes for death.
 
-
He wakes up with a gasp followed by a groan of pain. It seems he's back at Kaer Morhen.
Not dead, then, he thinks with a hint of remorse. 
Triss is there in an instant. The witchers summoned her to help heal him, apparently, he was (is) in a very horrifying shape. He asks her for Ciri and the others, she says everyone is well, just a few bumps and bruises. Jaskier feels relieved.
"You were dead for a couple of minutes" Jaskier doesn't know what to say so he settles for thanking her for saving him. He has two broken ribs and a few more cracked, breathing is an utterly painful experience, but Triss' concoctions help a little. His hands are bandaged, Triss says they need a lot more healing, but she reassures him that he'll be able to play again. In time, at least. 
"I've never seen Geralt like that" she says suddenly "He- he said he couldn't feel you." Jaskier doesn't reply, he's rather immersed in the movement of her hands changing his chest bandages. 
"I didn't know you two were..." 
"No one knows." Says Jaskier feeling tired, body and soul. 
As if sensing the sadness in Jaskier's heart, Triss adds “He was scared.” 
"He would be fine."
"You're his soulmate, Jaskier. I don't think that he’d be fine.” 
"I have never been his soulmate." The bard flinches at his own bitterness. "I've only been a friend. A traveling companion." He corrects. 
“Jaskier…”
"He was never meant for me. Destiny must have got it all wrong, the mark on Geralt's arm should be Yennefer's not mine." He doesn't know why he's saying that to her. Maybe it’s the shock or it’s the pain, but he wants to tell someone, anyone, about another kind of pain he's been carrying all these years. He is crying, Triss hands him a tissue and smiles in a reassuring way.
Jaskier cries silently with intervals of gasps of pain, while Triss finishes his bandages and hands him a cup of fresh water. Jaskier thanks her in a quiet whisper. 
"I couldn't make him happy anyway" he wipes the tears from his eyes and finds that his hands are shaking "She does. She really does." 
"I never take you for the self-sacrificing type" says Triss holding one of his hands and squeezing. He wants to hug her, but refrains from doing so due to her broken ribs.
"I'm not" he clarifies "I'm just realistic. How could Geralt want someone like me when he has her?" 
After a few seconds of silence she says "You are enough, Jaskier." 
He wants to laugh, to disagree but refrains from it. He's only a bard, after all.
There's a knock at the door. They turn at the same time. It's Geralt, he's holding a bowl of stew in one hand and a single yellow flower on the other, and looking at Jaskier with an expression the bard can't quite decipher. 
Jaskier feels his cheeks blushing. Fucking idiot, he must have heard his pathetic monologue. 
"Can I talk to him?" He says to Triss. She stands and says "Of course." She leaves hurriedly, leaving the two staring at each other. Something heavy lies between them.
This is it, Jaskier thinks, this is where my heart will break for good.
Previous here
Next and final
As promised to dear @youknowwhoiam3490-blog (excited for your positive aggressive reading)
@mordoriscalling @dustbunnyprophet @chispy-rar-v2 @strangerzaiah
@help-help-i-need-an-adultlt
@janjan-the-ninth (not a 20 chapter fic but well…)
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fandom-junk-drawer · 11 months
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The Witcher Headcanon - High
The more time Jaskier spends around Witchers, the more he notices how much they are like cats in some ways. Of course, they had those signature cat eyes that allowed them to see in the dark. And he started noticing how their eyes would dilate when something caught their attention.
A stalk of field grass with a bit of seed fluff on the end would cause Geralt's eyes to immeidately dialte if twitched. He had done it one winter in the Great Hall, with a willowy twig, and five heads had snapped toward the motion, and five pairs of eyes had dilated.
Jaskier had been reminded just how fast Witchers could move. He survived only because he managed to yeet the twig before he got dog piled.
Then he discovered that they purred, and liked cheek and chin scratches. He would start scratching cheeks or chins, and their eyes would dilate, and they would turn into Witcher-shaped puddles.
There were a lot of things that made their eyes dilate: cheek and chin scratches, being warm and comfortable, hugs, seeing something interesting, being excited, White Gull, and now, whatever the h*ll that plant was that Geralt was laying next to.
Jaskier had been waiting for over an hour for Geralt to return to camp. He had said he was going to set some snares, but he'd been gone too long, and Jaskier had gone looking for him. The bard had found him laying on his back next to a large shrub that was all shredded and mashed down, and he'd panicked, thinking he'd been attacked by something and left to die.
After getting a closer look though, he discovered that Geralt was unhurt. He was idly rolling a twist of pungent smelling leaves between his fingers and staring up at the sky, looking like he was having some kind of religious experience. There was only a thin ring of gold around his dialted pupils.
Jaskier *gently shaking his shoulder*: Er...Geralt? Geralt, can you hear me? Are you okay?
Geralt *dreamy voice*: Wouldn't being a-a bird be, like, the best? You could just fly around all day, sh*ttin' on people... I'd sh*t on Whatshisname...Valdo. Yeah, man, I'd totally sh*t on him. I'd just follow him around all day, every day, just sh*ttin' on him for you.
Jaskier: That's very touching, Geralt, and I appreciate the sentiment, but--! Melitele's tits, is that catnip?!
Geralt: Yeah, *rubs leaves on his face and starts purring*
Jaskier: Er, okay, big guy, let's get you back to camp. *slips arm under his shoulders and levers him into a sitting position*
Geralt *dramatic voice* : I ASCEND!
Jaskier: *gently takes the handful of leaves away and puts them in his pocket* Let me just hold on to these for you.
Jaskier heaved Geralt to his feet. The Witcher wobbled but stayed upright. He raised his hand, fingers positioned as if he were holding something, took a bite out of the invisible thing in his hand, squinted up at the sun, then demanded that Jaskier blow out the giant candle in the sky because he couldn't taste his cheese.
Jaskier regarded him silently for the space of a few heartbeats, then took a breath and blew it out at the sun.
"You blew out the sky candle! F***ing h*ll, I can't see anything now!"
"Your eyes are closed, Geralt."
Geralt opened his eyes, frowning irately, and grumbled "Blowing out the f***ing sky candle and plunging us all into eternal darkness-!" he stopped mid-rant as he remembered his invisible cheese, and took a bite. "Tastes like purple!"
Their trip back to camp had been punctuated by more stange ramblings as Geralt talked about all the mysteries of the universe, and randomly stopped to yell at a tree that was giving him a dirty look. He had passed out as soon as Jaskier had dropped him on his bedroll.
Geralt woke later, and in answer to his confused look, Jaskier had gleefully blurted, "You got high off catnip!", and then laughed himself breathless while Geralt growled and grumbled and denied it.
Jaskier pulled a few of the leaves out of his pocket and held them out to him. He'd been rather disappointed when Geralt had taken the leaves, examined them, and had absolutely no reaction to them. Geralt had given him a smug look that screamed "I told you so!".
Days later they stayed at an inn while Geralt worked a contract, and Jaskier entertained himself by tring to make friends with the cat that lived there.
She had stopped to sniff under the door, so he had opened it and tried to lure her in with some food scraps. The cat had been reluctant, having smelled Geralt's scent in the room. Jaskier remembered that cats did not like Witchers, but his inner Disney Princess was going to make friends with this cat through h*ll or high water!
He had taken some of the catnip, rubbed it between his palms, then put it in a little pile on the floor and crouched near it, hoping to entice the cat to come closer. He wiped his hands on his shirt and pants for good measure, in the hopes that he could get his new friend to sit in his lap.
Geralt returned a while later and found Jaskier sitting on the floor with a spaced out cat in his lap. He was curious as to why this cat was not immediately hissing and spitting at him like cats usually did when he encountered one. He slowly moved a little closer and caught a whiff of something herby...
The cat barely even flinched when Geralt dropped his bags and practically knocked Jaskier over trying to rub his face into his shirt. Jaskier ended up pinned to the floor by a hulking Witcher and a cat. He was grinning like an idiot while both the cat and Geralt rubbed their faces on him, and Happy Purred.
Jaskier made a few mental notes: 1. This is gold, tell Yen! 2. Don't mention this to Geralt. 3. Start collecting catnip. Ask Yen to help.
By the time Jaskier went to winter in Kaer Morhen that year, he had, with Yennefer's help, stockpiled a sizeable amount of catnip. He kept it hidden in his pack, wrapped with all his other herbs and dried florals, tucking it down in with his soaps and lotions and scents.
He had originally brought it as a joke, something to use to tease his adoptive family with, but he found that it really came in handy. Fights were a regular thing at Kaer Moren, especially when you were stuck indoors for weeks on end.
Jaskier started secretly burning a pinch or two of catnip in the Great Hall's fire pit when the usual minor scuffles looked like they were going to turn into fistfights.
Sometimes, when they were drunk and starting to try to fight each other, Jaskier would lobb a little catnip stuffed beanbag into the middle of them and let it work its magic.
Catnip tea became a thing.
Along with catnip cookies.
Sometimes, if he was bored, cold, or feeling a little down, Jaskier would rub a little catnip on his clothes and walk into the Great Hall, and then just enjoy the massive cuddle pile that resulted.
Yennefer knew exactly what was going on and was lowkey impressed her bardling had been able to smuggle the stuff into Kaer Morhen without Geralt knowing. It was an amusing distraction. She and Jaskier would sit and listen to their random thoughts.
"Forks are just a hand for your hand."
"Bread has a wetness scale, and here's why..."
" What if dragons had their wings on their back legs?"
" When two people kiss, they make a really long tube with an a**hole at each end."
"Your belly button used to be your mouth."
"If potatoes have eyes, then that means they watch you as you murder them."
And of course there was the humorous behavior, like:
Lambert balancing on the top of a door, claiming that he was a hawk.
Witchers crowding around a window to 'ekekekekek!' at a bird outside.
Geralt standing in the stables, bare a** naked, telling Roach she was pretty.
Eskel swearing that the rats in his room were talking sh*t behind his back, and it was really hurtful so, could Jaskier please go tell them to stop being mean?
Coen standing infront of a mirror, combing hair he didn't have, and swearing that Yennefer was lying to him when she told him he was bald.
Vesemir trying to fight everyone because he was feeling like he was 150 again because his joints didn't hurt anymore.
Then came the event that Yennefer personally could not stop laughing about. Lambert had started a massive drunken brawl one evening. Jaskier had been in his room, trying to make friends with some of the rats, when he'd heard the enraged screaming. He'd run to the Great Hall and seen an obviously inebriated Geralt and Lambert rolling and snarling on the floor.
Coen and Eskel tried to break it up, but were dragged into the free for all. Jaskier started yelling for them to stop, but he was ignored. He ran back to his room and did the only thing he could think of.
Yennefer had heard all the rukus and stormed into the Great Hall just as Jaskier came running back in, carrying the biggest joint the Continent had ever seen. The size of it was just absurd. Yennefer had started laughing as he'd dropped it unceremoniously into the firepit. Smoke billowed up, filling the room, and seconds later, the fight was over. Witchers were laying in a pile on the floor, stoned off their a**es, and contemplating the complex mysteries of the universe. Jaskier was pretty sure some of them were seeing gods.
It had taken weeks for the room to air out enough to were the Wolves weren't getting high just walking in to it, but there were still a few spots on the wall, and one of the furs where the smell continued to cling. It became a big joke after Jaskier guiltily explained what happened. Now when one of them, especially Lambert, started getting extra prickly, someone would say "Go sniff the fur/wall and calm the h*ll down!"
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shy-urban-hobbit · 3 months
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Of all the decisions Lambert had (and would) come to regret, this one definitely hadn't been on his list.
He and Aiden had run into Geralt, sat alongside a brunette man who could only be the bard they'd heard rumours about - if the way he was sitting a little too close to a Witcher than was deemed sensible and appeared to be talking Geralt's ear off was any indication. The white haired Witcher looked both panicked and relieved when he spotted them, calling them over and making hasty introductions in an attempt to draw the humans attention away from him for a few minutes.
Something which successfully resulted in Aiden and Jaskier acting as if they'd known one another for years rather than hours, the Cat more than happy to keep fielding the bard's questions (Lambert had resorted to Geralt's tried and tested method of grunts and growls when they hit double digits with no signs of stopping) and trade casual, friendly touches.
Although they agreed on most things, that was something they had never been able to see eye to eye on. Lambert tolerated touch at the best of times, the moments that weren't linked to punishment or training fleeting at best. Aiden on the other hand, thrived on it, constantly subconsciously latching onto the nearest body in one form or another. Unfortunately for Lambert, whenever Aiden decided to tag along for longer than a day or two, the nearest body was usually him. Even at night, he would migrate - moving his bed roll so they woke up nose to nose when they had started the night on opposite sides of the fire and on the occasions when they had needed to share a bed, many a time had Lambert woken up with Aiden wrapped around him like an octopus.
So naturally, when Jaskier and Aiden had come back from speaking to the innkeeper about rooms for the night - explaining that yes, they had two rooms but one of them was a double bed whilst the other was two singles - Geralt and Lambert had both simultaneously stated that they would take the two singles under the guise of wanting to catch up with one another properly, while Jaskier and Aiden - in Lambert's words - could "Do one anothers hair and fight about who gets to be the little spoon." (He'd meant the first part as a joke, but from the way Jaskier started eyeing up Aiden's curls....). It was the perfect solution.
Except it wasn't, as it turns out. Sleeping lightly anyway - thanks to being in a strange place and surrounded by fickle, unpredictable humans - Lambert's mind appeared to be a few steps behind and refusing to accept that just because it was night and Aiden wasn't in his line of sight didn't mean he was in danger. He was getting tired of being pulled out of his doze every time someone slammed a door to then be jerked into full wakefulness because the body he was expecting to be sharing (invading) his personal space wasn't there. From the looks of it Geralt wasn't faring much better, his eyes meeting Lambert's every time from the bed closest to the door.
It was the early hours of the morning when Geralt pulled himself from under the covers, muttering something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like a resigned "Fuck me." before opening the door and blinking in surprise to see Aiden stood there, a fist raised ready to knock. The two of them exchanged a brief nod before Geralt slipped out of the room and Aiden inside.
Aiden didn't even give the now spare bed a cursory glance, making a bee line for Lambert who scootched closer to the wall without even making a show of grumbling as the Cat climbed in beside him, pressing himself along his back and tucking his knees behind Lambert's.
"What happened, bard too handsy even for you?" Lambert asked, only half joking as he felt something in him uncoil now that he could see the other was alright.
"No, but Geralt wasn't exaggerating when he said he never shuts up. He talks in his sleep. Plus, maybe I just missed my more prickly bed buddy."
"Don't ever call me that again."
"What would you prefer? Cuddle chum, snuggle monster? Not that you ever reciprocate that much, but a little embellishment never hurt-"
"Fucks sake. If I give you a cuddle will you shut the hell up?"
He didn't miss the little pleased noise Aiden made as he moved back just far enough for Lambert to be able to turn onto his back and lift an arm which Aiden immediately took advantage of, pressing his nose into Lambert's collar bone as he threw an arm across Lamberts chest, the Wolf feeling the slight purr as he awkwardly wrapped his arm around Aiden's shoulders in return.
"G'night, Prickles."
Lambert couldn't muster the energy to bite back on that one as he felt his eyes slip closed, not waking again until the innkeeper yelled at them through the door to either pay for another day or get out.
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astaldis · 10 months
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Chapters: 6/6, Complete, Words:  Fandom: The Witcher - All Media Types Rating: Mature, Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply 
Relationships: Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach & Geralt of Rivia, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion 
Additional Tags: field medicine, Whump, mediwhump, Short of Breath, loss of consciousness, Myriapod, Friendship, Geralt of Rivia Whump, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt of Rivia, Alive Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach, Witcher Cahir, Hurt Geralt of Rivia, Action/Adventure, Angst, creepy chittering, too many toes, wicked wings, Surgery, Asphyxiation, Whumpay 2023, Stitches, Cuddling & Snuggling, centipede, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending Series: Part 4 of Witcher Cahir
Summary: Geralt and Cahir go on a monster hunt together where they meet an old friend. Unfortunately, the hunt is not as easy as expected ...
Read on Ao3: 
https://archiveofourown.org/works/47067388/chapters/119487952
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dapandapod · 3 months
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Concept:
Geralt works in an aquarium, near the biggest fish tank.
Jaskier is a newly hired mermaid performer
Geralt was not told about this
In my dreams, it's still Mermay 2023. Husshhh time is fake. ANYWAY here it is! Thank you @magdelanesingerin helping me beta read <3 and thank you Ella-la for the prompt! It was a lot of fun! Please enjoy <3 On Ao3 here
Technically, Geralt does not work with humans. As in, he’s not there to provide care to humans.
Most of his coworkers are human, yes, but that is not the point. He did not start working here to serve people stale sandwiches and sparkling water.
Geralt knows every inch of the aquarium, knows every work position available.
He knows how to do everything, despite actually being there for the more excotic species of aquatic animals, usually with many teeth. Pros and Cons of working with the family, he supposes.
The years he has spent out in the field and all the late nights he worked with his doctor's thesis, all the scars from times he spent crawling through knee deep water that stank of sulfur and decay, only to find his arm swallowed to the elbow by something very small with big hubris-- all of that is put to perfect use as he wraps yet another dry, overpriced sandwich, or scoops yet another ice cream.
The reason he actually stays, despite the screaming children and the sweating parents and the bored teenagers and the entitled grandparents and the weird work tasks he gets assigned, is the way a young girl's face lights up when Geralt holds up a frog, big enough for him to have to use both hands.
Or the way the sullen teen beams when one of their rare giant butterflies lands on their hands. Or when he can hold an audience captive while showing them something new and exciting and incredibly nerdy about his sharks.
Geralt loves his sharks.
Due to every summer reason ever, Geralt has sadly been called away from his animal related daytime tasks to cover shifts where their usual summer employees are out sick. Which seems to be most of this month.
Where he stands right now, in the very small and very understaffed little kiosk, he has an excellent view of the shark tank, at least. As the aquarium has grown in popularity, so has their shark tank, his pride and joy.
Coën had explained to him excitedly that their new tank would have a much bigger viewing area, and seating area, almost like a little theater. To allow for future opportunities, he had said, and Geralt thought of the way he would be allowed to show off his beauties through the window and almost got excited himself.
It is unusually crowded today, and a lot of people are gathering around the viewing area and are chattering.
It's so loud, their voices bouncing around the room and amplifying, and it's hard to hear the woman in front of him inexplicably order their largest latte and a lactose free cheese sandwich.
Luckily, Milva is coming in soon to cover the rest of the shift, so Geralt can finally get back behind the tanks, out of sight of all the people.
But before he can, the clock strikes one, music blares through the speakers the speakers, and one of the employees he knows from birthday parties steps out with a microphone. It makes Geralt frown, because this is new.
Usually, the show around the big tank would involve a kid friendly lesson about the fish and aquatic animals in their tank, sometimes accompanied by a sweaty Lambert in a mascot suit.
This time, however, there is dreamy music, the lights are lowered even more, and the employee is talking about the magical beings living in the deep, out of sight of human eyes.
See, Geralt is a man of science.
He knows there are mythical and magical things in the depths, having been up close and personal with a few. But this sounds like they are setting up for some kind of misinformed children’s movie.
Which is why Geralt's jaw is somewhere around floor level, when an actual mermaid- wait no, merman, swims up to the glass, waving at the children.
Milva has to elbow him out of the way so she can serve the next customer, while Geralt stares at the Merman flitting around in his beloved shark tank.
The sharks stay clear, because even if the merman's tail is beautiful, it is still striped much like a dragon fish, warning all of them not only with his size, but also with his pattern and coloring, that he is dangerous.
Yet his smile is wide, his claws retracted to tap a smooth fingertip at the glass and wave at the crowd with a webbed hand.
His hair is chestnut brown, matching the pattern riding up along his back, with specks of gold dancing on his skin and in his blue, very blue eyes.
Geralt somehow finds himself by the rail to the seating area, and the merman's eyes lock with his.
As they do, they widen a fraction, and the smile turns into a smirk. The merman winks, and turns, swimming in a pirouetting circle as the employee narrates his movements.
As he swims, the light dances over muscle and bone and scale, the crowd around him making ‘Oooh’ and ‘Aaah’ noises. He is beautiful.
The merman keeps showing off, his many long fins twirling around him like ribbons in the calm water. It is mesmerizing, and as the show is coming to a close, Geralt hurries to the back area and towards the tank.
He gets intercepted by Lambert, of course, who steps in front of him with a shit eating grin spread wide across his smug face.
"Like the new show, did you, pretty boy?" Lambert says, sly eyes watching him.
"I didn't realize we had a new show." Geralt grumbles. "I need to-"
"-Go and ask our new pretty fish boy intrusive questions, yes I know. Just remember he is not a science project."
With a pat on Geralt's shoulder, Lambert walks past him and intothe guest area.
"Oh, and ask him for his number. Literally everybody in the room saw that wink," he throws over his shoulder as he goes.
Geralt feels his ears burn as he moves forward again, because yeah, that wink felt very... yeah. Words fail him, which is a bit unfortunate, seeing as he is just arriving at the stairs to the tank.
Climbing them, he tries to remember what he planned to do in the first place, other than, as Lambert called it, 'ask intrusive questions'.
As he reaches the top of the stairs, the merman is just climbing out of the tank, assisted by Eskel. Once again, Geralt feels his jaw drop, noticing that his tail is now legs.
Long legs. Bare legs, that goes up, up, and lucky for all of them, the rest of the view is quickly hidden by a towel wrapped around a slim waist.
"Figures," he hears Eskel snort, "Jaskier, this is Geralt, our aquatic expert."
They are on separate ends of the room, the tank between them, but the world narrows down to just the two of them.
There is, and always has been, a specific mood to the rooms that houses the the big tanks.
The way the water reflects light, sending it dancing on the walls and ceiling, how it softens shadows, how it can be dark but bright at the same time; Geralt has always did found it a little romantic.
Which isn't something he would ever confess to unless he was swimming in alcohol, or so sleep deprived he didn’tt even know his own name, but it is there, simmering in the back of his mind.
Especially now as he is standing there in the soft, romantic light with a man, who was just a merman, looking back at him as if he has discovered the world anew. He can even pretend that the humming of pumps and gurgling of water filters and dripping of pipes are an orchestra, a symphony to accompany a first meeting.
Alright, that is overdoing it, but still.
Behind Jaskier, Eskel is rolling his eyes so hard his body moves with it.
"Every. Frickin. Time. Jaskier, good job, don't forget to wash off before you get dressed. Let's talk after... after. Later. I do not want to be here right now."
Eskel leaves, patting Jaskier's shoulder, who only nods and waves absently, eyes still fixed at Geralt.
When Eskel is gone, disappearing through another door leading to more, smaller tanks and the food prep area, Geralt finally finds he can move.
It is oddly silent, except for the metallic sound of his shoes hitting the maze of walkways hanging above the tank. He stops, even before he has turned the corner to the final stretch.
"Hi," he manages after a few seconds too long.
The corner of Jaskier's mouth tugs up into a smile, and he reaches for another towel hanging on a hook on the wall.
"Hi," he echoes, his voice just a little raspy. Jaskier wraps the towel around his shoulders, using a corner to dry his hair. "So, you are the Geralt that I have heard so much about."
Geralt blinks. He did not expect people to have mentioned him, but then again, they might actually have warned Jaskier of him.
"Ah. Sorry. I can be uh... less than tactful when something grabs my interest."
Jaskier tilts his head even more and takes a step closer to him.
"So did I? Grab your interest, I mean."
Shit. Fuck. Shit fuck shit.
"I have never met a merman before." Geralt says stiffly, ears burning something fierce, and Jaskier looks amused.
Jaskier steps closer; his feet probably hurt from walking barefoot on the metal grating of the walkway but he doesn't stop until he is close enough to Geralt to stretch out his hand.
"Well then. My name is Jaskier, as you might have gathered. Nice to meet you! Though, I am not full mer, actually."
Interesting.
Geralt shakes his hand, noticing the tips of Jaskier’s fingers are a little rough against the back of his hand.
"Is that why you have... uh..."
"Legs?" Jaskier supplies helpfully. Geralt is still shaking his hand. "In part, yes. Some Mer have a splash of elven blood, granting them the ability to choose."
Geralt should stop shaking his hand. He really should. Their eyes are still locked, and Jaskier is still giving him that amused smile.
"You can stop shaking my hand now," he reminds Geralt, but doesn’t pull his hand back.
"Right. Yes. Right. Sorry." Geralt manages to let go, and is infinitely happy Eskel has left the room, though no doubt Lambert will look at the security footage for later. Shit.
As soon as Geralt manages to break the stare into the man’s eyes, he notices the next problem. Jaskier is pretty much naked, barely covered by the towels, revealing skin, chest hair, and the hint of a tattoo along his ribs and on one thigh.
He wants to ask about that, if it transfers to his fins or not. But as he stares, he also realizes Jaskier is shivering slightly. He's an idiot.
"I uh. Should leave you to get dressed. There is a shower in the changing rooms. Uhm. Can I get you a coffee or something? Later?"
Jaskier smiles that amused smile of his while Geralt is kicking himself internally. Words never were his thing, no, but this is ridiculous.
"As in bring me a coffee, or drink a coffee together with me?"
"Whichever you are comfortable with. Sorry, I am not making a good impression here."
"You are very cute, if that helps." Jaskier says, and Geralt blinks, stunned.
When he fails to reply, Jaskier pulls his towel tighter around himself, and nods.
"Right. So, I'll go shower, and we’ll pretend I never said that. And I'll see you later. For coffee."
Jaskier’s ears are slightly red, and Geralt wants to pretend it’s from their conversation, not from being cold.
Geralt nods, and flees before he can put his foot in his mouth any further, and only after he is half way down the stairs does he realize that he forgot to ask if Eskel showed Jaskier where the changing rooms are.
Too late now, he absolutely won’t go back and risk walking in on a very naked Jaskier. Nope.
When Geralt steps into the public area again, the crowds are slowly thinning out, now that the show is over.
Parents are herding kids towards bathrooms and other viewing areas, and Geralt decides that he needs to find something just a little better than the staff room coffee machine.
It feels a little cheap to go with the aquarium café, and he realizes he doesn't even know how Jaskier likes his coffee. Geralt himself has a sweet tooth, and very few ever believe that at first sight.
He decides to stand and awkwardly waits until Jaskier comes back out.
He manages to work himself up as he waits, overthinking until he’s standing there frowning and glaring at the wall when Jaskier emerges at last.
Quirking an eyebrow, Jaskier hoists his dufflebag a bit higher on his shoulder.
"You good?"
"Hmm. What kind of coffee do you like?" Geralt asks, before he can say something dumb.
"Black as tar, so anything is good." Jaskier smiles. See? You never know what to expect, even with sunshine incarnated.
Geralt nods, and leads the way to the little kiosk where he was working just a few, life-changing minutes before. .
Milva smiles gleefully at Geralt when it's their turn, and hands them a coffee black as tar, and for Geralt, coffee with milk and three sugar cubes.
Instead of sitting down, they put away Jaskier's bag and wander around the aquarium. It turns out he never had the chance to look around before diving in for his first show.
Geralt tries to not ask all the intrusive questions bubbling up in his head, his scientific curiosity temporarily pushed down by the way Jaskier coos at tiny crabs and little fishes in weird shapes and colors.
At last, Jaskier informs him that he can't stay any longer, that he has band practice after his show, and should have gone already.
"But I'll see you again, Geralt," Jaskier promises with a smile. "Next week. Unless you want to grab a bite sometime?"
Jaskier's ears are red again, and Geralt can feel his own face getting warm.
"I'd like that," he mumble, and Jaskier beams. They exchange numbers, just in case Geralt had anything else to ask.
Not one minute after Jaskier leaves, waving over his shoulder, Lambert is on him.
"Getting some tail, are you, pretty boy?" Lambert grins, and Geralt elbows him away.
"If you say anything ever again, I'll show Aiden all your drunk texts," he threatens, which he knows will only work for a few days.
Geralt risks sending a text that same night, and Jaskier replies only a few minutes after.
They have a lunch scheduled in a few days, and Geralt doesn't dare call it a date, not yet, no matter what Eskel says.
When Geralt goes to sleep later that night, he dreams of blue eyes, of chestnut brown and gold specks glimmering in the underwater light.
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