#I mean the Witcher's Keep in the mountains right?

[thelostgirl21]

AND NOW HE'S THE FAMILY GOAT!!!

The capricorns

I found this interviews [x] and I couldn't help but make a stupid parallel 😅

[casually-eat-my-soul]

Okay so after the mountain breakup and makeup, jaskier has a new horse. He super excited to introduce Geralt “horse girl” Riviera to his sweetheart of a horse, Pegasus. He talk about how well mannered and precious his horse is; and how he just had to buy him off of his old owners who didn’t treat him right — “ I mean they didn’t even give him apples, Geralt, who does that?? —

Geralt is expecting a dainty normal horse, maybe with ribbons in his hair, like his owner. But they get to the stables and jaskier skips over to this behemoth of a war horse. (I’m thinking like a shire horse type breed).

Jaskier is just absolutely besotted with the “sweetheart” and Geralt is petrified. This horse is bigger than roach. It’s glaring at Geralt with the rage of hellfire. Geralt is like 57% sure it’s a hell horse.

It’s also super protective of jaskier and it hates Geralt. Pegasus is always moving in between the two and when Jaskier starts giving Geralt attention Pegasus whines and Jaskier will go back to him.

Geralt is not jealous no matter what anyone says. He tries to tell Jaskier about how his demon horse keeps glaring at him and bumping him off the road. But everytime he tries to point it out Pegasus has the most innocent look on his face.

It would be so funny to see a horse and a Witcher try and fight for Jaskier attention

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Care to go up against me, Princess?"

Ciri looked over from where she'd been whacking seven shades out of the training dummy to where Lambert's cat, (' Aiden', her brain supplied), was leaning against the wall. She was sure he hadn't been there a minute ago.

"Why?" She asked warily, Geralt's warnings about cat Witchers coming to mind.

Aiden shrugged, "Everyone else is busy and I'm bored. Vesemir gave me the okay to oversee your training for the day. Would go and bother Lambert but learnt the hard way not to do that when he's playing with his bombs. It gets messy, and not in a fun way."

Jaskier, who had been sat bundled up by a brazier watching (read: babysitting. Ciri wasn't stupid), snorted a laugh.

"You can tell me to piss off and I can see about trading with Eskel or Coen. I won't be offended" Aiden offered with an open smile. He'd recognised Vesemir's olive branch straight away but he wasn't about to use it to make the young cub uncomfortable.

She looked between him and Jaskier, the bard merely shrugging as Ciri mulled it over. He couldn't possibly be that bad if Vesemir had allowed him to stay and with Jaskier sat right there and Eskel just in the stables, she wasn't technically alone with him…

"Alright. But just a quick spar."

Aiden's smile grew.

"Don't be afraid to move." Aiden said, leaning on his wooden training sword, Ciri stood bent double as she heaved for breath, aching and frustrated from the multiple hits Aiden had managed to land on her whilst she'd barely touched him, "You keep coming at me full frontal like that you're basically painting a target on yourself. It became predictable, which means it became dangerous."

Ciri straightened up indignantly, "The wolves are always telling me-"

"No offence to the wolves." Aiden interrupted gently, "But they're all over six feet tall and built like brick shithouses. Brute strength and stubbornness works for them. They can take the hits and keep on coming. You, unfortunately, are a bit more breakable." He very lightly poked her in the belly with the end of his sword, "But you're also small and fast. Use that."

He tilted his head thoughtfully, "If you like, I can show you some basics from my school that might benefit you."

"You mean how to fight dirty?" The words left her mouth before she could stop them. To her relief (and confusion) though, Aiden merely laughed in response.

"Is it fighting dirty if it's against something trying to kill you? And out of the two of us, which one has more bruises right now?"

He replaced the training sword and picked up the coat he'd discarded earlier, shaking the snow free, "Again you're free to say no, but the offer stands. You too, if you like." He said looking towards Jaskier, or more specifically, the small dagger at his belt as he made to leave, "I'm curious if you can actually use that."

"Wait."

Aiden stopped, waiting for Ciri to continue.

"Learning a couple of things couldn't hurt. Could it?"

Geralt smiled as he made his way back through the gates. The sun has almost set and with how treacherous the mountain could be, he knew the sensible thing would have been to hunker down and make his way back in the morning but after three days, he was too eager to see both his bard and his girl. His excitement was short-lived as the sight that greeted him at the other end of the courtyard had him immediately seeing red. Jaskier sprawled on his ass on the ground, Aiden with his back to Geralt but he spotted a very familiar head of blonde hair peeping over his shoulder as Ciri appeared to be struggling in his hold. the pommel of a sword in the hand which wasn't restraining her. Fucking bastard! He knew he should have given in and allowed the two of them to accompany him on the hunting trip!

Abandoning Roach and the game she was carrying, Geralt unsheathed his sword and charged.

"Aiden!"

Jaskier's yell came a second too late as he realised what Geralt was intending. Witcher reflexes meant Aiden was able to move quickly to drop the sword and shove Ciri away from him but not quickly enough to avoid a blow to his shoulder as the white haired Witcher roared furiously, "Get the fuck away from them!"

Aiden immediately dropped to his knees, as he turned to face Geralt, trying to look as non threatening as possible with one hand pressed to his now bleeding shoulder.

"Geralt, no !"

"What the fuck, Geralt?!"

"What the hell is going on out here?" Eskel yelled as he emerged from the stables, nose wrinkling at the overwhelming mixed scents of anger, confusion and fear.

"Eskel. Go get Vesemir." Geralt growled, not taking his eyes off Aiden.

"No need." The Witcher in question appeared next to Jaskier, drawn out of the main hall by the sudden noise. He offered Jaskier a hand up as he took in the scene, "What is happening here?"

"I found the Cat threatening Ciri with a sword."

"You mean this sword?" Jaskier asked moving forward to pick up the wooden blade and waving it in Geralt's face, "We were training, nothing more."

"By whose leave?" Geralt demanded before turning to Eskel, "And you! Where the hell were you when they needed you!"

"Hey!" Eskel snapped, "I've been in the stables since they started this morning. You really think I wouldn't have intervened if I'd heard anything untoward? Which. I. Didn't. They were never in any danger."

" Aiden!" Lambert came running towards them, panicked by the scent of blood and the sight of Aiden on the ground, "What is your fucking problem!" He yelled, squaring up to Geralt, "The old man put him in charge of Ciri's training for the day, he wasn't doing anything he wasn't supposed to be!"

"Forgive me if I don't take you at your word given your attachment. I don't want Ciri learning anything from him. "

Aiden was marginally surprised that Geralt didn't spit on him for emphasis.

" Enough!" Vesemir barked in a tone he knew would immediately bring his pups to heel, "Everyone inside. Now! Eskel, take Ciri and help Coen in the kitchen. Lambert, see to Aiden. Geralt, with me."

Read the rest on my A03!

[hanzajesthanza]

Hey there, what is the estimated time Ciri, Geralt and Yennefer spent together since the events at Stygga castle and the Rivia pogrom?

It was short, right? :(

it's a little complicated to calculate, because not too many dates are given specifically. however, i have already thought about this and reread these parts for clues on dates way too much, and come up with some of my own calculations:

so, the precise date of the assault on stygga castle isn't known, but i calculate it to be from around the 17th to the 19th of march 1268. this is for a couple of reasons:

firstly, geralt returns to beauclair on january 8th/9th:

‘Geralt left for the Pomerol vineyard on the morning of the eighth of January. And returned … at eight in the evening … or nine in the morning … I don’t know … I’m not sure …’

and leaves on the evening of the 9th:

They watched him ride away and saw him trotting towards Beauclair. The sky darkened.

reynart provides an overview of their journey:

‘The Sansretour will guide you for the first few days. Keep to the river. (...) Should you with God’s will conquer Malheur, don’t hurry too much, for you’ll still have the Sansmerci and Mortblanc passes ahead of you. Should you conquer both of them, you’ll descend into the Sudduth valley. Sudduth has a warm microclimate, almost like Toussaint. (...) At the mouth of the Sudduth lies the small town of Caravista. (...) the direction of your journey is the Mag Deira plain, the valley of the River Sylte. Further on, Geralt, it’s according to the maps you copied at the town cartographer’s.

the month of january, we can see from their approach of the malheur pass in chapter seven, is frigid and frozen over. but in chapter two, in condwiramurs' dreams, she dreams of them during spring:

That included the dreams about the rebellion on the Isle of Thanedd and the journey of the Witcher and his company through the blizzard on the Malheur pass, through the spring downpours and soft roads in the Sudduth valley.

springtime is considered to be from march to may, so by the end of winter, they had left the mountains.

secondly, there's a select window of time that stygga can take place during (either before or after the beginning of april), because emhyr shows up at castle stygga in ebbing, but is also in cintra for the peace treaty; the peace of cintra took place on the second of april. this is actually mistranslated in the english official translation, in polish it's "nów księżyca," which is new moon, which means it's the second date of the month, as the humans begin their months by the new moon.

‘If my memory serves me—’ Boreas cleared his throat ‘—the kings arrived in Cintra in April?’ ‘The second of April, to be precise,’ the pilgrim corrected him. ‘It was, I recall, a full new moon.’

but since emhyr and false cirilla's scene occurs, i believe, in nilfgaard:

‘I shall not be staying here long,’ he said after a moment of oppressive silence. ‘I must ride to Cintra and grace with my person the ceremony of the peace treaty being signed. (...)’

he had to go from stygga, to nilfgaard, to cintra. now, he likely didn't make this journey on horseback; the distance to nilfgaard was so great, as geralt explains to milva in fen carn:

‘Rumour has it that Ciri’s in Nilfgaard, the capital of the Empire. Which is around two and half thousand miles from here. Simple arithmetic tells me that at this rate I’ll get there in a year and four months.’

that emhyr must have had imperial sorcerers with him to portal him and his military retinue around. thus making his travel mostly irrelevant to the calculations, but relevant as so far as that he can't be in two places at once, so the assault on castle stygga likely didn't happen in early april, but instead, either late march or late april.

and it has to be later in the month, because of the third point: remember, humans begin their months with the new moon. and in baptism of fire, we learn that regis can only fly as a bat during a full moon.

‘Why are you staring at me like that? I mean, rivers being obstacles to vampires is another myth and superstition. Or perhaps I’m wrong.’ ‘No, you are not wrong. But I can only fly during a full moon, not at any other time.’

so stygga must have occurred on a full moon. the full moons we see in baptism of fire and tower of the swallow occur from [approx.] the 17th to 19th (sapkowski counts multiple nights of the full moon, e.g., "the second night of the full moon"). because regis turns into a bat at stygga castle, it must have been from around the 17th to the 19th of either march or april.

fourthly, geralt, yennefer, and ciri begin to travel during april (chapter 11). though this is not explicitly stated, as in there is no "it was april" describing their scene, we get a couple of lines which suggest it.

one of these is the flash-between of houvenaghel's arena burning down:

On the ninth of April, soon after midnight, the first residents of Claremont were awoken by a flickering brightness, a red blaze (...)

this scene is married with the scene of ciri paying respects to the rats' graves in jealousy. no, it's not stated that this scene happens exactly on the same day, but in tower of the swallow, some days and times when flashed-between have lined up: for instance, geralt's dream of ciri on september 9th, nenneke, iola, and triss performing a ritual spell on november 19th. so it's not out of pocket to assume that this scene with them in jealousy occurs sometime near april 9th, perhaps the day of.

and in order to get to jealousy from stygga, the chapter opens describing their riding:

They rushed like the wind, like mad things, at breakneck speed.

so they must have ridden for some time to arrive at jealousy from stygga, they didn't just appear there suddenly. which suggests to me that they used the beginning of april to travel from stygga to jealousy. this also makes sense considering emhyr would have needed to be in cintra at this time.

another line is this:

May came, suddenly.

which suggests that may snuck up on them as they had been travelling throughout the month of april.

fourthly, the weakest reason why i think the assault on castle stygga occurred in march, which has nothing at all to do with facts, but rather, themes: march is the month of mars, the god of war. i find this apropos. :)

so, following my assumed date of march 19th:

they travel throughout april, following up on ciri's sites to pay respect to (jealousy for the rats' graves, the town of unicorn, vysogota's cottage in the pereplut swamps).

they spend belleteyn (may 1st) together.

then, later in may, geralt has this dream of philippa ordering yennefer to bring ciri to the lodge:

… bring her to us, Yennefer. We order you. (...) … is meeting the first of June, at the new moon. We order you both to appear.

yennefer has to leave the next day after this communication, leaving ciri and geralt to travel together. they're already at the sansretour when yennefer leaves:

‘Where to now?’ Ciri asked dryly, a short while after Yennefer had vanished in the flash of the oval teleporter. ‘The river …’ Geralt cleared his throat, fighting the pain behind his breastbone that was taking his breath away. ‘The river we’re riding up is the Sansretour (...)’

toussaint is in the sansretour valley. when geralt & co. were here months prior, it didn't take them long at all to get to beauclair from following the river, maybe a day or two (there were some complications involving the druids and cahir's scalp).

geralt and ciri arrive in toussaint around the 20th:

It was the day after the full moon when they saw Toussaint bathed in greenery and sunshine.

so i'm assuming that yennefer left ciri and geralt around the 17th of may. philippa calls them - a day passes - ciri and geralt travel for two days - arrive on the 20th.

ciri and geralt go to beauclair, pick up dandelion, and travel for a bit. they basically do their journey from tower of the swallow in reverse: passing through riedbrune, and then crossing the yaruga on the 26th, over a new bridge (not the one they fought on :'( ):

They crossed the Yaruga on the twenty-sixth of May over a very new, very white bridge smelling of resin. The remains of the old bridge–black, scorched, charred timbers–could be seen in the water and on the bank.

ciri leaves geralt and dandelion on the 1st of june, to go to vengerberg to meet with yennefer and face the lodge, as philippa requested to have their presence on the first of june:

‘I, meanwhile, will sort out what I need to in Vengerberg, pick up Yennefer and we’ll both be in Rivia in six days. Don’t make faces, please. And let’s not part like it was forever. It’s just six days! Goodbye.’

of course, dandelion comments on this, confirming to the reader that yes, ciri went [/tp ciri mom]

‘Six days,’ Dandelion repeated pensively. ‘From here [Koprzywnica] to Vengerberg and back to Rivia … All together it’ll be close to two hundred and fifty miles … It’s impossible, Geralt.

then, the rivian pogrom happens on the 6th of june:

It was the sixth day after the June new moon when they arrived in Rivia.

final calculations:

geralt - ciri - yennefer | 2 months | from (approx.) march 19th to may 17th, geralt, ciri, and yennefer travelled together for 59 days, around 2 months.

geralt - ciri | 3 days | from (approx.) may 17th to may 20th, geralt and ciri travelled solo, then picked up dandelion in beauclair

geralt - ciri - dandelion | a little less than 2 weeks | geralt, ciri, and dandelion travelled together from then until june 1st, for 12 days. if you count both, that's about 2 weeks.

geralt - dandelion | 6 days | they travel for six days to june 6th. almost a week.

geralt - ciri - yennefer spent 2 months together, and if you add the time just geralt and ciri spent (including that with dandelion), it's like 2 and a half months after the events of stygga castle.

whether that's short or not, i'll leave it up to you... :(

[redskull199987]

All the right Moves

Eskel x female Witcher!reader  Word count:2.4k warnings: canon typical violence, reader is injured, fluff at the end Summary:You´re on your way back to Kaer Morhen together with Eskel, as you run into a Leshy. You knew that something was wrong, as Eskel told you he wouldn't want to travel with you anymore…

Masterlist

You were hiking so fast, that you could feel your lungs burning inside your chest. Your throat dry from not drinking anything for hours. Your feet were begging you to stop, even just for a minute. But you knew, you couldn't. If you stopped now, he would be dead, once you reached Kaer Morhen. You just had to make it in time. If Eskel died, you would never forgive yourself. His words were still ringing in the back of your head.

“Leave me alone!”, he yelled, as he pushed you away from him. Confused, you looked at the Witcher, who was normally warm and understanding around you. All you had done was touch his shoulder carefully, asking if you could see his injury.“Eskel…are you okay?”, you mumbled, Confusion still written all over your face.

“Just fuck off.”, he cursed under his breath, turning away from him. 

You watched in confusion as he walked away from you, gathering his weapons. He didn't look back at you even once.

Your breath hitched slightly, as you could finally see the silhouette of Kaer Morhen on the Horizon. One or Two hours more and you would reach the old castle. It would be nightfall by then. You finally started to walk again, reaching into your pocket to find the potion, that was the reason why you were so late. You were sure that all the others had already arrived. Geralt and Vesemir probably worrying not only about Eskel, but also wondering why you didn't arrive yet. 

You desperately wished that you weren't so late. But it had taken you longer than expected, to find someone who knew how to make the potion you needed. If it weren't for a mage, who was a good friend of yours, who teleported you near the mountains, where Kaer Morhen was, you would´ve lost several days and Eskel would probably be dead already. But luckily, you were only half a day behind him, which luckily gave you enough time to save him. Or so you hoped. 

“Just fucking leave me alone!”, Eskel screamed at you, after you had finally managed to get a good look at his shoulder.“You´re infected, Eskel!”, you yelled, trying to grab his hand,”If we don´t do something, you will die!”“I am not going to die, so just leave me alone. I don't need you. I never needed you!”, he barked, looking at you with a stern expression. You were taken aback by his words. You knew that he didn't mean it, he didn't know what he was saying. But it still hurt you. 

 Before you could say something more, he was already mounting the horse and running off. You didn't try to follow him. It was worthless. You knew that he would be in Kaer Morhen after you found a potion that would save him. 

You looked at his back one more time, before making your way into the other direction, already knowing who you could ask for help.

A small sigh left your lips,as you finally reached the doors of the keep. You were about to push it open, as the medallion around your neck started shaking. Hastily, you made your way inside. This wasn't the first time this happened today. But this time it was much harsher. 

You didn't see anyone at first. The great hall was completely empty, but you could see plates full of food and tankards filled with ale standing all over the place. Someone was here not long ago. 

Your head shot up, as you heard ruckus coming from the laboratory, seconds later the sound of pots being smashed and tables thrown over. As you finally started running, you could hear a beasty groan. “Fuck.”, you grunted as you heard the voices of Geralt and Vesemir. And as you finally reached the designated room, you peeked through the open door. What you saw almost made you lose your composure.  

Right there, just a few meters in front of you, was Eskel towering over the other two Witchers. But he wasn't himself. Not in the slightest. He had transformed into a wooden beast, his face barely visible, but it was there. 

Mere seconds, after laying your eyes on him, you wanted to storm towards him, but a magical shield was blocking the door. You quickly drew your sword, as you saw what was about to happen. 

Eskel had managed to trap Vesemir, resulting in Geralt lighting up his sword to end it.

As fast as you could, you muttered a spell and lifted your sword. With all your power, you pierced it through the barrier.

You took three big steps, breathing in heavily, knowing that what you were about to do would knock the air out of your lungs. 

And only as you stepped in front of him, lifting your blade to meet his in the air, Geralt had finally noticed your presence. He looked at you perplexed, as your sword clanked against his, the metall hissing from the heat. “What are you doing?”, he asked, not even angry, but genuinely concerned. “You're not going to take him away from me!”, you claimed, as Geralt slowly lowered his sword.

“Please just trust me!”, you urged the white wolf. He only nodded at you, as you quickly turned around, grabbing the small potion from your pocket.

“Eskel?!?!”, you yelled as loud as you could. The beast-turned Man quickly turned around, upon hearing your voice. Vesemir, who had previously been choked, fell to the ground, coughing. “Take care of him!”, you ordered Geralt, who was able to quickly make his way over to the older Witcher, since Eskel´s attention was all on you now. 

“Here goes nothing.”, you muttered under your breath, as you felt a branch pierce through your shoulder. You yelped, as you were lifted into the air, more branches wrapping around your body. You were pushed against a wall, as Eskel leaned closer to you.

“Y/N”, he sputtered, his eyes scanning your form. 

“It's me, Eskel.”, you affirmed, slowly bringing the potion to your mouth to rip the cork off, “You´re going to be alright, my love. Don´t worry.”

Eskel was about to answer, but no words left his mouth, he was just staring at you. You quickly realized that this was your chance, as he was momentarily confused. You lifted your arm, as best as you could and threw the small bottle of potion right into his mouth. He choked on it for a second, not comprehending what had just happened. “I'm sorry in advance.”, you quickly mumbled, before lifting your foot and kicking him in the jaw, in order to make him swallow the potion. 

Your breath hitched for a second, as you didn´t know what was going to happen. Would it work? Would he live?

As you fell to the ground with a grunt, you were pretty sure that it was working. Grabbing your bleeding shoulder, you quickly backed off, as Eskel started to squirm around, an angry scream leaving his lips.

“Y/N?!”, Geralt yelled, as he tried to reach you, but Eskel´s branches were throwing a tantrum, swinging all around the hall.

“Please just work.”, you prayed, but suddenly, all movement stopped. The room was silent for a second, before all the wood surrounding you suddenly started  corroding. You watched with wide eyes, how all the branches coming out of Eskel slowly crumbled away all the way up to his body.  He had stopped moving for a second, but as you stood up and called out for him, the wooden exoskelett rumbled to life. You heard cracking and wood breaking and seconds later, you saw Eskel´s Human body falling out of what looked like a tree stump now.

"Eskel!", you gasped and leaped forward just in time to catch him. His body weight pulled you down with him. He was still unconscious, as you slowly turned him around, resting his head on your lap. Just now, you took a good look at him. His entire body was covered in dirt. Vines and leaves had grown in and around his clothes. The only thing untouched, was his Witcher medallion.

“He´s alive.”

You looked up at Geralt and Vesemir who were now standing in front of you. Vesemir was still leaning on Geralt for support, but apart from that he seemed fine to you.

“You saved his life”, Geralt added. All you could do was nod. Your emotions were slowly coming to the surface now and you realized that you could´ve lost him today. But here he was, laying in your arms unconsciously. 

"Come on.” , Vesemir  patted your shoulder, kneeling down next to you,”Let's get him fixed up. We´ll take care of this”, he lifted his hand to gesture around the completely destroyed room,”later, alright?”

You just nodded again, stepping aside, as Geralt and Vesemir proceeded to lift Eskel up to carry him to his room. As the other Witchers ran into you, you promised them an explanation , but for now, you needed to look after Eskel.

Your eyes kept falling shut over and over again, as you lay in a chair in front of Eskel´s bed. It had been a few hours since you managed to cure him from the infection. He hadn't woken up since. You tried to stay awake but sleep was gnawing at you, like a hungry aeschna.

“Sorry? Are you Y/N?”

Your eyes opened once more, as you looked over to the door to see who had come to visit you. A young girl was standing in the doorway. Her long blond hair was slightly disheveled and the bottom of her white dress was dirty and ripped open.

“You must be the child surprise.”, you stated, after getting up and bidding her inside.

“Cirilla of Cintra.”, she smiled, as she stepped inside,”Geralt sent me to give you this. He said it would help with your exhaustion.”

You looked at her curiously, as she handed you a small bottle of potion. You gingerly took it and inspected it´s contents. After recognizing the mixture, you quickly downed it in one sip. Mere seconds after, you already felt it working. Your eyes didn´t feel as heavy anymore and your limbs stopped aching a bit.

“Thank you Cirilla.”, you finally said and gifted the young girl a soft smile.  

She only nodded and was about to leave, as you gently grabbed her wrist. She turned around perplexed.

You cleared your throat once more, before finally speaking again:”Geralt told me that…that Eskel was a bit rude with you, upon arriving here at Kaer Morhen.”

“He wasn't exactly the nicest.”, she admitted after you finally let go of her hand.

“I want to apologize for his behavior”, you sighed, rubbing your neck,”He isn't usually like this. He didn't even let me touch him, after he was injured. This infection…it did something to him, changed him.”

Cirilla didn't say anything, but instead stepped closer to the bed, Eskel was lying in. She inspected him carefully, her eyes wandering over his exhausted body. 

“I really hope that he will wake up again. I would like to meet the real Eskel.”, she uttered and turned around to you with a smile. “Yeah, me too.”, you mumbled weakly. You were really missing your soft Witcher. The way he always smiled at you with his big eyes, the way his hands felt on your skin, his lips on yours, his gentle voice, as he mumbled sweet nothing into your ear in the early mornings. You just wanted him to wake up again.

“Hey?”, Ciri asked, pulling you out of your thoughts. She must have noticed how shaken up you were, “He'll be alright. You saved him, right?”

You only nodded, slowly petting her shoulder:”You should go to sleep now. It's late and you must be tired, after all this ruckus.”

“You should get some sleep too.”, she smiled softly before leaving the room. You threw one last glance her way, before the door finally closed and the room was silent again.

At least for a few moments.

Your head shot up, as you heard groaning coming from the bed. That could only mean one thing: Eskel was awake.

You quickly made your way over to the bed and you would be lying if you said, your heart didn't skip a beat. There he was. He was alive and well. His heartbeat going steady and his breath a little shallow, but also very much there. 

As he looked up and his eyes landed on you, you couldn't hold yourself back any longer. you stepped forward, kneeling down on the side of the bed, your arms pulling Eskel into a massive hug.

“Woah there, bug. It's alright, I'm here.”, Eskel affirmed, as you buried your face  in his shoulder,”I'm here with you.” 

“Yeah”, you sniffled, a few lonely tears rolling down your cheeks. You finally parted to get a good look at him. Frankly, he still looked unbelievably tired. Dark circles were prominent under his eyes and you noticed that he moved with a bit of discomfort. “What happened, bug?”, he suddenly asked you, now fully sitting up against the headrest.

“The leshy.”, you mumbled, reaching out for his hand. He gladly intertwined his fingers with yours. “It infected you, after we fought against it.”

“Fuck, I think I remember now.”, he hissed,”I'm so sorry. The things I said, I did. I was such an arsehole, wasn´t I?”

“Well, Ciri certainly thinks so.”, you chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. But Eskel didn't laugh. Instead he lifted his hand to softly grasp your cheek. He gently wiped away your tears, but new ones were already coming, upon feeling his soft touch again.

“I am sorry.”, he said firmly,”Thank you for saving my ass.” “Of course.”, you assured,”I would do anything for you. I love you.” “I love you, bug”, Eskel mumbled, pulling you back into his chest. A small sigh left your lips, after settling against his body. You finally allowed yourself to rest, after so many hours of being completely on edge. Eskel was alive. You did, in fact, save him. 

“Rest.”, you heard him whisper into your ear, as he pulled you closer to his body. His warmth spreading welcoming you, after he pulled the blanket over you.

“You deserve it.”

[artistsfuneral]

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.3

“Well some of us decided to make use of the daylight and get supplies,” Jaskier answered, proudly holding up their new belongings. The Cat Witcher frowned at him, head cocked to the side, “Rope? What on earth do we need rope for, it's a mountain path not a cliff climbing exercise.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and – pointedly ignoring Aiden – knotted the rope to the side of his pack. He'd keep the charm in his belt pouch for now. “I mean seriously, Jaskier. Wouldn't food have been better? It's not like I can help a lot in that department, given the overall,” Aiden stopped himself from continuing and waved at himself with a sour face. Jaskier sighed.

He really couldn't phantom when he had developed the habit of running into half-dead witchers in need of heroic rescuing, but at this point it had happened too many times to still be considered a coincidence. Much like it had been the case with the other three Cats, the Viper, the Griffin pair and who afterwards had insisted on being called his Crane Wife, Jaskier had found Aiden just on time. After the failed assassination attempt in Yspaden and a horrible week spent hiding in the alleys and basements of Luton, Jaskier had collected enough coin and courage to head east, towards Kaedwen. Then, when traveling through the forests of Gelibol, he suddenly came across a merchant's cart and a man with amber eyes who introduced himself as Roland Treugger. Despite the fact that the man was an excellent liar, more so than the backstabbing cretin Valdo Marx himself, Jaskier almost instantly understood that there was something off about the merchant. Lo and behold, Jaskier wasn't being paranoid and the noise he heard coming from the inside of the wagon was not some caged animal to be sold at the next market, like Treugger had insisted, but Aiden bleeding onto the floor. Jaskier remembered very vividly how after that particular discovery he had turned back around and looked at the other man with a look so dispassionate it made Treugger stumble backwards. What Jaskier – despite Aiden's constant insisting – did not remember was the fact that Treugger had straight out stumbled into Jaskier's blade. Sixteen times. It certainly was a nice thought, but alas Jaskier was nothing but a humble bard and the short sword he carried with him was mostly for decoration. Aiden didn't believe him for a second.

Nevertheless the damage had already been done and while the Cat Witcher was lucky enough for both of his broken legs to heal properly, the same couldn't be said about his left arm or eye. In the passing day he lost both. Over his many years of travel the bard had to witness countless heartbreaking fates, but watching Aiden wake up only to realize what gruesome things had been done to him would stick with Jaskier for a long time. Aiden, like any witcher, was saved by his astonishingly strength and tough heart. His humor helped a lot too, as Jaskier was quick to learn.

Spending a fortnight hidden away in the forests had given them enough time to get to know and befriend each other. So when a troop of nilfgaardian soldiers found their camp, splitting up wasn't on the table anymore. Now Jaskier was stuck with a new travel companion and around a hundred horrible jokes on his mind about how Aiden was all-right, even if there was hardly anything left of him.

“No need to worry, sunshine, you forgot that I've been following Geralt around for around a century or so, I know my outdoor survival.” The bard chimed in, trying to lighten the mood again. Instead he watched how Aiden's right eye tightened. “Yeah, about that-” the witcher started, but was promptly cut off by him again. “Figuratively! Of course I meant it felt like a century. I was exaggerating, I'm a bard!” The deadpan look Aiden gave him was more than telling.

“Anyways! I think we really should get going. We've been pretty lucky so far, so I guess it's probably only a matter of time before someone comes looking for us.” The bard said, looking out the window of their small room to make sure that his fears hadn't become reality yet. “Need a helping hand?” he asked and watched with amusement as Aiden's face turned from disbelieve to being outright scandalized. “Fuck off!” He laughed and flipped Jaskier the bird, before finally getting out of bed. “You are going to end up in hell, bard,” the Cat Witcher tsked at him and went to collect his clothes from a stool nearby. “Oh shush, don't even pretend we don't share the same humor, pussycat.”

“Never said I was going to to meet Melitele either.”

“Ugh, sunshine, you're so dramatic!” Jaskier sighed, well aware of the irony behind his words. He watched, out the corner of his eyes, how Aiden slipped into his shirt, pants and coat. He struggled to secure the green sash around his waist that was supposed to keep his pants up like a belt. Aiden fought for a moment before managing to tighten the knot by holding part of the sash down with his elbow. Jaskier quietly thanked the gods for the small success and shouldered his pack and lute, checking the room twice for things he might have forgotten, while Aiden put on his boots and silver sword. He knew the Cat knew that he was watching like a hawk, but neither of them braced the topic of Jaskier's over-protectiveness.

Aiden was about to shoulder his sea sack when the two men were stopped mid-movement by loud voices coming from outside. Their eyes met and Aiden, closest to the open window, dropped to the floor just as quickly as Jaskier pressed himself against the far back wall of their room. Jerking his head towards the window he silently but sternly told Aiden to check out the commotion. After all he was the witcher, not Jaskier.

Aiden made a face at the bard that could we equally translated as 'Duh.' or 'Fuck you.' but dutifully inched closer to the window and listened. Not a moment later the witcher's pupil thinned into a predatory slit that fixated on Jaskier in a way that unmistakably meant trouble for them. “Redania,” Aiden mouthed without making a sound and then proceeded to make his way towards Jaskier, crawling on all... threes, in a way that he would've found hilarious if it weren't for their dire situation. “Soldiers,” Aiden whispered once he had reached the bard, “looking for a bard and his witcher in the name of the crown. They probably think I'm Geralt.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed underneath his breath, his heart hammering inside his chest as he willed his brain to think of a plan.

“There's a back door!” he suddenly remembered, having seen one of the innkeeper's daughters enter the house through the kitchens. “If we make it downstairs in time, we can escape through the yard.”

Aiden bit his lip. “Too risky. We don't know if any of the soldiers are already inside the house and the courtyard could be closed off. I say we climb through the window in the hallway and down the balcony, then make a run for it. Through the market and straight into the forest.”

“You want to jump off a balcony with two freshly healed legs and then get us separated in a crowd, are you mad!?” Jaskier hissed and slapped his hand against Aiden's shoulder. “There's no way the courtyard is closed off! And even if, we can just climb up and out.”

“Oh, but that's not risky at all. What happens if they surround us?”

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How do you pronounce Kaedwen in your head? like Cat-Wen or Kate-Wen? I've always said it like cat-wen, but I started watching the nightmare wolf movie thingy and I'm pretty sure they said kate-wen. and I didn't like it.

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[dapandapod]

For Mermay:

Geralt/Jaskier underwater singing

YES PLEASE and thank you for indulging me. I had to stop everything to write this, right now and immeadiately. I hope you enjoy! <3

Send me a pairing and a word, and I give you a fic?

On Ao3 here

Jaskier scoffs but doesn’t say anything when the witcher starts explaining different beasts to him that the first year they travel together.

His beastiarity about Mer is so fantastically outdated, and one would think someone as well traveled as Geralt would have a bit more updated view of people below water.

But correcting him means offering up a piece of Jaskier’s past that he is not sure will be well received, so he keeps his mouth shut.

The monsters in Jaskier’s songs that first time they met, they do exist. They are just not from the surface world. In his childhood, Jaskier remembers dark shadows from above, diving down and with sharp fangs reaching for his siblings.

Kelp can be a great cover, but there are beasties that know them even better than Shore Mer.

There is a reason you can’t find Lettenhove on a map. Well, technically you can, and it is a acknowledged county in books of old, but it is a lake. Was a lake, now a part of a river leading to the shore. They are still there, forgotten by almost everyone.

It is Deep Mer who has fish tales. Beautiful women from the depths with their beautiful voices and glistening skin and scales, luring fishers with them into the darkness, that is how the world thinks of Mer. There is only one type of human too, right?

No, Jaskier will not correct Geralt.

He is tempted that one time when he sees his witcher whistle, communicating in ways of old with the Deep Mer.

He is tempted again, when he refuses the lord, but holds back when all is said and done.

The secret is not only his to keep, and with Essi now exploring the surface world too, he keeps the words locked behind his teeth.

Still, Jaskier needs water sometimes. When the weather is fine, he bullies Geralt into swimming with him in a pond. He spends almost more time than Geralt in a bath, and when apart, he finds ways to submerge in rivers and lakes and sea alike.

Shore Mer are different, adapted for a life of both. While dry, his smattering of scales retreat, his feet less flat and flipper like.

They are not Selkies, no, those are something else. Drowners too, are nothing alike a Shore Mer, except for owning legs and having a similar swimming pattern. It’s unavoidable, given how you need to move in water to get anywhere without looking, well…. Like Geralt currently does.

Geralt didn’t join him to the coast after that blasted mountain. Didn’t even mention the presence of a hot spring, despite the middle of winter making the halls of the keep barely bearable.

He did, however, trail behind Jaskier on his way down the lake below Kaer Morhen, snow and ice slippery under their feet. Jaskier never heard him, never saw him, just felt the pull of the water, the intense need to Change.

Jaskier didn’t notice Geralt was there until he was below the ice with him. Cold water never bothered Jaskier much, his body regulating itself to keep him alive, but Geralt, noble, stupid, idiot Geralt, did not know this.

He dove into the water, clothes and all, attempting to save a bard that did not need saving.

In the end, it was Jaskier who had to drag a nearly hypothermic Geralt back up to the keep, and only then did he learn of the fucking hot springs.

When Geralt finally looked and felt like an icicle, there was a long, long conversation, bordering on argument.

Terse silence ruled for almost a week, until Geralt finally caved, the stubborn fucking idiot. 

Not only for Ciri’s sake, they lingered well past spring. 

Jaskier finally braves correcting the witchers about Mer, lecturing them about how the information is for their ears only. They, out of all people, should know the dangers of being seen as different.

On a spring day when the sky is startlingly blue, Jaskier invites Geralt to swim with him. With the help of the Killer Whale potion, the witcher manages to mostly keep up with him.

Below the surface, the light is murky, particles glimmering where the rays of sun pierce the darkness. 

Singing under water is… different. Vocal cords sound different with water instead of air. 

It’s been a while since he felt safe enough to sing below the surface, because of both land and water creatures, but with Geralt with him, there is no doubt.

The lullaby he starts with is soft, lapping like waves against the shore, dancing with the currents of the sea. He sings of the stars, only visible to him if he leaves his world.

In his own tongue, he sings of a wolf. There technically isn’t a word for wolf, but that one time he sang it for Essi, she understood.

All the while, Geralt is watching him. Eerie and beautiful as his hair fans around him like a white crown, eyes of a predator. Every once in a while, he has to go and breathe, and when he returns, Jaskier has lost himself in the movements of his song.

When they heave themselves up on one of the big rocks by the edge of the lake, Geralt is quiet. Jaskier stretches out on the rock, letting the sun dry his skin back to the smooth planes he is now more used to.

The witcher watches him, but Jaskier doesn’t feel threatened.

He closes his eyes, and doesn’t open them again until a shadow closes out the sun. Geralt’s hair is dripping with cold water, his thumb coarse against Jaskier’s cheek, but his lips so infinitely soft.

Geralt kisses him like he can’t help himself, and Jaskier kisses him back like he has only ever dreamed of.

“I’m sorry I made you feel you had to keep this from me,” Geralt murmurs, knocking their foreheads together after some good long moments. Jaskier’s breath comes short, and he smiles.

“If it were only my secret to tell, I wouldn’t have.” Jaskier whispers, and Geralt scrunches up his forehead in that adorable way of his when he is concerned. 

“You still look like a drowner when you swim.” Geralt says, ruining the moment completely, and Jaskier shoves him back into the water as punishment.

When Geralt gets out of the water, he traps Jaskier under him, cold water dripping over sun heated skin. 

Laughing and kissing under a pale spring sun is just a new step on the path they walk together. A path that always calls for a witcher and his bard.

[winters-mistress]

Salty tears and forgotten fears

Oh, fucking hells, Geralt was going to kill him.

Growing up as young witchers in training, that hadn't been such an uncommon thoughts for the red headed arsehole of Kaer Morhen. Lambert had thought it when he had accidentally used the wrong lotion on Roach's mane when they were cleaning the horses, and had accidentally bleached it almost as bright as Geralt's own mop, or the time that he had knocked his silver sword into the blacksmithy kilm on the Eastern smallhouse, or most notably, when he had started taking swipes at his brother sue to the latest failed romance with his violet eyed sorceress the year before Cintra fell

This, though, this was a new level of fucked.

The day had started as normal as any other, wake up, run a flannel down his face -fucking Vesemir and the new rule of a clean face before he'd get any porridge, he knows the old man is trying to change them all for the benefit of the little Princess- before putting on whatever clothes he hadn't worn to sleep, guzzle down some oats that had cooked overnight, before take the bratty Princess out for a run.

And that run had led to a few hours on the training grounds. Which had led to this

"Ouch, ouch, fuck, it's really hurting, I can't move it." the blonde was on the floor, her bloody lip dripping blood down her chin forgotten as she clutches at her right ankle.

Fuck, it really is swollen, even a regular human could see it.

He looks up at the beam, glaring at the snapped plank of wood that had given way when the girl had stepped on it. That distraction had led to her standing just long enough to get pelted with the rock sack Lambert had been pushing at her, which is how she was bloody and on the ground.

He's hurt Geralt's girl. Fuck. Geralt is going to rip his balls off.

"Shit, I-" he licks his lips. He needs a drink to prepare for the imminent beating whenever Coën finds his older brother and Vesemir. How can a trip down the mountain to take care of two forktails take this long? "Your arm okay, girl? Your head?"

"If they hurt, it's not as bad as this." She gestures to her ankle that is definitely not facing the right direction. "Lamb, it really hurts." Tears fill her eyes, adrenaline no doubt starting to wain. Fuck it all, he doesn't know what to do.

"I'm gonna have to cut it off, your boot. No way I can take it off with how swollen it is." Is it three times as big as her other leg? Maybe four? Lambert brandished a dagger, and began slicing away at the worn leather.

"So long as you find me another shoe afterwards." she huffs, before yelping as he takes hold of her shin. "Ow, fuck, it hurt. Ow!" she cried as the blade gets closer and closer to the injured area.

"Quiet, brat, do you want us to be attacked by something that can smell your blood and hear your voice?" He snaps. He doesn't mean to be a dick, it's just second nature to snip when stressed. He's not the coddling type.

"What fucking monster would go within miles of a witcher keep? Isn't that the point of all of you, to kill the things?" she snaps back.

"We're curse breakers too." he mutters, finishing cutting the sole so her ankle was revealed. "Ah, fuck." He hisses. It's a fucking bad break. Her ankle looks like an albino grapefruit that's been thrown from the very top of the Loire valley. All pale skin that's bruising at a rapid rate, blacks, purples and blues quickly replacing the porcelain skin that covers her shin.

"Fix-fix it!" Ciri cries out, sniffling, wiping her eyes.

"I can't, your ankle is pretty much dust, you need a hard wrap." He huffs indigenously. Fuck, he's hurt his brother's girl. Geralt's doing to cut his balls off and shove them down his throat. It was bad enough the punch he'd given him when Ciri got upset at a comment he'd made about Calanthe. His jaw still aches, and it's been three damn weeks.

"Do it then!"

"Do you think we're in an infirmary, Princess? We're outside!"

"Then get us inside!" she yells back. The ground beneath them shudders with that raw, ancient power the girl possesses.

"Shut your mouth, do you want any more equipment to break?" He growls.

"It's not my fault the thing snapped, how old is it?!"

He growls lowly, before looking around again.

"Your old man doesn't seen to be on his way, I've gotta get you back myself."

"Really? What a surprise!" Ciri rolled her eyes. "Hurry up!"

Lambert growls again, before he reaches over to the Princess and begins to erap her in his arms. She hisses as her ankle is jolted, grunting when he finally gets her off the cold, wet snow floor.

"Ciri!"

They both jump at the booming roar, looking over at the pathway, seeing the white haired witcher high tailing it up the pathway at remarkable speed, given the steepness and slippiness of it all.

"Fucking hell!" Lamb hisses, having nearly dropped the girl. Wouldn't that look good for him?

"Geralt!" Ciri yelps as she's narrowly catched by the younger witcher, clinging to him as he practically snatches her from his brothers grap.

"What the fuck happened? You weren't even supposed to be here today." He growls, sniffling all around her, seemingly smelling out the parts of her that most smelled like pain.

"My fault." Lamb grumbles. "Goaded her into the pendulum after she ran herself out on the killer," he mumbled. "was an accident."

Geralt stares at him for a moment, long enough to make Lambert squirm, before he looks back to his pup in his arms.

"We'll talk later." He rumbles. "Get Ves and Esk, get them to prepare a room for her. It's a bad break."

Ciri whines at that, but she doesn't get a chance to look at Lambert or Coën, nor at the flowers sprouting on the ground, before her father of surprise turns on his heel and makes down the pathway back to the main fortress. He's careful not to jostle her too much, and it does feel nice to be carried, she supposes.

Lambert cringes at the sight of the broken wood and the broken shoe laying in the bloody snow.

"I'm getting blind drunk when we get back." He huffs, picking up the ruined leather. "The punches won't hurt as much when I'm pissed."

Coën chuckles at him. "Maybe he won't be mad?"

"Or maybe he'll pummel me so much that I look like a godling."

Coën laughs. "Only one way to find out, dick. Come on."

And the two witchers race off once again.

[cosmos-coma]

May I request something about sorceress reader and Eskel's first meeting? 🥰

First Meetings

A/N: Hehe, I hope you don't mind that I took this in a bit of a funny route, but I just thought it would be cute! Happy new year anon and thank you for requesting the last fic of 2022!

Pairing: Eskel x Reader

Words: ~1.1k

______________________

It wasn’t often that Yennefer asked for your help with something- well, let’s rephrase that; Yennefer never asks anybody for help, so when she called you on the megascope asking for your help with a magic item you rushed over right away. 

You portaled your way to the coordinates she gave you and stepped out into a large stone courtyard, that had grass poking up through every crack. A slight chill passed through you as the mountain air brushed your skin. 

“Y/n!” Yen called and waved to you from across the courtyard where she stood next to some tall bulky and oddly shaped machine. 

“Yennefer..! Um… what is this…?” you motioned to it and jumped in surprise as a mountain of a man popped out from behind it. His eyes were gold like honey and he stood at least half a head taller than you. Long scars ran from his forehead, down the right side of his face, notching his lip and finishing their lengthy dance at his chin.

“My apologies, I didn't mean to scare you…” The witcher said, a shy smile covering his features as he took a step to the side.

“Y/n, this is Eskel- Geralt’s brother. I need the both of you to help me with this confounded machine. You see it’s supposed to take a certain kind of magic and force to get it unlocked.” She explained as she waved her hand, leaning on the table of bottles and ingredients she had brought out. “It doesn’t seem to want to take to my magic, so I thought perhaps it would like you more.”

“Right, and why am I here again?” Eskel asked for what felt like the twelfth time, i mean- why exactly couldn't Geralt do this? 

Yen frowned and let out a sigh, “Because Geralt it busy getting me more materials for my ritual and we need witcher strength for this.” Gracefully she pushed off the table and brought you both to the machine, “ okay, hands here- Y/n your hands go on top of Eskel's, and we can just channel magic straight through.” She directed your positions as you moved awkwardly around the Handsome witcher. 

“No, No, no… this won’t work, I think we’ll just have to have Eskel stand behind you- that will be most comfortable.” She pushed you towards his arms, a small mischievous smile playing at her lips. 

A warm blush spread across your cheeks as Eskel's strong arms came around you and his chest pressed up against your back. He was solid like a brick wall, but still soft enough to be comfortable as you found yourself leaning back against him. His presence behind you felt safe and comfortable- something you weren’t used to as a sorceress. You always had your head on a swivel to keep an eye out for the next sabotage, the next assassination attempt, everything. But this security was new to you… and rather refreshing too.

Eskel's put his hands on the etched marks of the machine and found himself holding his breath as you placed your hands over his. Your touch was gentle and sent a wave of calm through him despite the awkward situation you've both been put in. 

Yennefer nodded as she inspected you two and the machine, “Perfect. Now I’ve heard rumors that its best to think of strong positive emotions when you perform this, both of you. So, Eskel maybe just think about Lil Bleater or something.” she commented and went back to the table. “ I’m still not certain how this machine works, so I’ll stand back here and watch for any changes.” 

“Lil Bleater?” you asked as you tilted your head back to look up at Eskel, “Who is-?” 

‘Baaaa!’ you were interrupted by the sudden bleating of a young goat who you assume must have heard you calling it. 

A faint blush of it’s own shaded the witcher’s cheeks as he nodded, “Yes, Lil Bleater is my pet goat. She’s a trouble maker, but she’s cute so I keep her around” he tried to joke, relieved as he heard the laugh bubble up from you in response. 

“Sounds like Geralt and Yennefer…” you mumbled under your breath, enticing a laugh from Eskel that rumbled through his chest and into you. Your smile felt easier as you watched the notch in his lip pull back as he smiled and your chest felt warm the more watched him. 

“You’re right about that… Are you ready to start?”

“Right, yes, I’m ready” you took a deep breath, “okay, here we go.”

A warm tingling sensation seeped through Eskel’s hands and into the machine- pulling nothing from him but comfort and ease as you leaned back against him. He did his best to think of pleasant memories from his childhood or time on the path, but instead he found himself just looking down at you- concentrating instead on the smooth curves to your features and the concentration on your face. 

You weren’t too much different as you channeled magic into Eskel and the machine. Thinking only of the way Eskel’s arms around you made you feel and the way the light glinted in his smile. You poured that comfort and safety he made you feel into the very magic you put forth.

Yen smiled as she watched the two of you attempt to get the machine to work and held her hand out for her mug as Geralt returned once more- no ingredients or materials in hand, just a simple mug.

“How’s it going?” He asked as he leaned on the table beside her, watching you and Eskel stand essentially wrapped around each other. 

“All according to plan.”

He hummed as he nodded- taking a quick sip as he continued watching. “How long to you think it’ll take them to realize that the machine doesn’t actually do anything and that this was just a ploy to get them together…?” 

“Hmmm, Maybe 20 minutes.” Yen hid her grin behind her mug. Her and Geralt had seen for quite a while now that you and Eskel would be perfect for each other, but you could never seem to find each other naturally. So of course the obvious solution to this was to lie to you both and force you to get uncomfortably close straight away. 

“Hm, I’ve got 50 crowns that says it takes over an hour.” Geralt smiled as he held his hand out to her. 

“You’re on, witcher.” She agreed and shook his hand, turning back to watch you and Eskel fall for each other just as she intended.

_________________

Taglist: @writingmysanity @open--till--midnight @dark-academia-slut @madamemelancholysstuff

[whereplotbunniesgotodie]

Here's your blessing Geralt

Geralt said his blessing would be to not have the bard around anymore? So be it. Jaskier would do just that, he would take himself off the witcher's hands... But apparently the mountains and her more monstrous inhabitants have other plans for the bard.

Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries from a monster attack. I mean nothing more than canon, in fact probably less so than canon but still.

Angst with a happy ending

Cross posted here and on ao3

'If life could give me one blessing…' 

Jaskier let out a shaking breath as he picked his way down the slope. So Geralt wanted him gone?  Well fine... Jaskier would just go ahead and take himself off Geralt's hands then. 

His lute jostled on his back with each step and he did his best to steady it, it wouldn't be good to have the instrument damaged.

Blue eyes glanced back up the slope, searching for movement, for a sign of Geralt on his way down. When Jaskier saw nothing and his heart sank further to his stomach, he looked away. Of course he wouldn't come. The witcher had made it perfectly clear how little he thought of the bard, how little Jaskier meant. Jaskier wanted to be angry, to storm back up the mountain and yell at the Witcher, but instead he felt nearly numb. 

Jaskier was trying to be careful as the path narrowed even more than he remembered from the way up and he briefly wondered if he had taken a wrong turn somewhere, he should have hit their campsite by now.  He was heading towards the sunset though and he was sure they had headed away from it on the way up.  Too distracted by his thoughts, and the ever growing hole that seemed to be taking over his entire chest, the bard didn't hear the step behind him until a growl alerted him to how close whatever it was, well, was. 

He turned just in time to catch a sharp claw across his cheek, pulling a pained yelp from his throat. He hit the ground with a crash, his lute splintering beneath him. He reached up a shaking hand and ran it over his cheek, frowning when it came away slick with blood. He looked up as the creature lowered itself towards the ground in a crouch. He realized too late what it was doing, though he tried to back away. His hand shot to his hip, where a dagger lay hidden; gifted to him by Geralt 

The breath was knocked from his lungs when the creature lunged and set all its weight on him, laying him flat on his back, his hand yanking the dagger from its sheath in his pained flailing. It took a moment but he gasped desperately to get the air back into his lungs before he pushed at the creature as hard as he could and swung his other hand, the knife slicing a sizable gash in its chest. It growled in pain as it fell away, it's legs kicking wildly as it attempted to right itself, and Jaskier immediately scrambled to his feet. 

He didn't hesitate a moment longer, turning on his heel and bolting. He could hear whatever it was getting back to its feet and, before he knew it was chasing him, gaining on him. He cried out when it leapt onto his back and both of them collapsed into a heap. He registered the knife slipping from his grip and sliding down the path and he could feel the white hot pain as claws dug into his shoulders and his lower back. He tried to struggle, to shove it off again but the pain as it sunk its teeth into his flesh pulled a scream from his throat. He felt them moving, sliding, but he didn't know where exactly they ended up. 

  He didn't mean to do it. Didn't mean to call out for him but his mind latched onto the vain hope that the Witcher would hear him.

"G...Geralt! Geralt Hel-" The creature putting its weight on the back of his neck cut off any sound he could make and he gasped desperately. Black spots began to swirl in his vision as the pain began to fade, though he could still hear the growling. Oh… he just couldn't feel it anymore. That probably wasn't good. 

He couldn't move his arms and his eyelids were too heavy to keep open. He tried though, and managed one last look at the pink of the setting sun over the horizon. 

He couldn't breathe but the pain of claws dug into his back seemed to have vanished. He wondered briefly if Geralt had come and gotten rid of the monster but he cursed himself for hoping. 

"Geralt…" he said, though he had no way of knowing if he even made a sound. His vision swam and faded to black. 

~~

Geralt stood, fists clenched and shoulders tensed as he took in the empty camp. Jaskier was nowhere to be found, though his bedroll and small pack still lay in the remains of the camp. The sun was setting and darkness was creeping over the pink horizon.

He let out a sharp breath through his nose as he realized that any scent or trace of Jaskier was old. The bard hadn't been in camp since that morning. That wasn't normal and Geralt tried to ignore the concern he could feel rising in his chest. The bard, no matter how upset he had been, surely knew not to run off down the mountain alone. 

Geralt swallowed the concern and converted it into anger. 

"Jaskier!" He yelled. "Jaskier get up here!" He knew he was loud enough for the bard to hear no matter where he had stopped for the night.  "Jaskier!"

He heard no movement, no mumbled curses; not even a distant call of 'fuck off!' Any of which he expected. 

He glanced around before he shook his head. It was far too late to go out tonight and when the bard had left he'd been angry. He was probably just ignoring Geralt and the Witcher would come across him in the morning, cold and complaining. He sat down by the corpse of the fire from the night before to meditate. Closing his eyes he almost swore he heard a sound in the distance but when it didn't come again he ignored the urge to check it out, brushing it off as an animal.

The sun rose and Geralt arose with it. He couldn't help the frown that took to his lips when he saw the bard hadn't come back. The lingering scent from the day before had faded and now it was as if the bard hadn't been to the camp at all.  He quickly packed up the few things that had been left at the camp, including Jaskier's bedroll, which he hefted over his shoulder with his own and started down the path. 

It was at least a few hours of walking before he saw splinters of wood staggered around the path and thought little of them. Whatever it was looked to be destroyed and it was no concern of his that some traveler had been unlucky enough to break some possession of theirs. 

He glanced around as he walked, eyes searching for any sign of the bard, ears straining for the sounds he constantly made. Neither sight or sound alerted him to anything abnormal. In fact it was the sticky, iron scent of blood that pulled his attention down a nearby slope. He peered down and caught sight of a creature laying dead at the bottom of the small but steep incline. 

He almost walked away, almost turned his back to the corpse before he caught a glimpse of something just up the path, the silver blade glinting in the sunlight. That was the knife he had given Jaskier, the knife that was no longer in his possession and was tinted copper at the tip. He looked back down the incline with a start and finally noticed something red just beneath the creature. It was too bright and solid to be blood and too textured to be a trick of the light. 

No. No! 

He started down, trying to keep his expression from morphing into distress. He slid most of the way and stopped just a foot from the body… no. Bodies, it was bodies. He could see now, the lithe form of the bard curled beneath the monster. He didn't hesitate to throw the monster body off of Jaskier's limp form, not caring as it slid away down a steeper incline to the left. 

"Jaskier!?" Geralt felt his legs give out and he hit the ground with a thud. He reached out, hands hovering over Jaskier's cheeks, his shoulders. Finally Geralt steadied himself enough to grasp the bard by his shoulders, pointedly ignoring the ripped and shredded fabric that he felt beneath his palms, and hauled him up to lean against Geralt's chest.  The bard, limp in his grasp, with eyes closed, could too easily be confused with a doll or a corpse.

 One arm slid to wrap around Jaskier's back to hold him and Geralt's other hand cupped Jaskier's cheek to tilt his head towards him. The witcher almost yanked his hand away as his heart fell to his stomach. The bard was so cold, his skin sickly pale. A deep cut marred his cheek, dried blood crusted across his skin. A gash, no, a bite, where his shoulder and neck met stood out in angry blistered red. Geralt laid a hand over it shakily. The wound should have been bleeding! Why wasn't it bleeding? Not that Geralt wanted Jaskier to be bleeding, but bleeding meant his blood still flowed, his heart still beat… He still lived.

"Jaskier!" Geralt hissed as he gave the bard a small jostle. The bard didn't react, didn't respond and Geralt growled. He had to stay under control; had to calm down. The blood rushing in his ears and the growl low in his throat kept him from hearing Jaskier's heartbeat. The shaking of his hands, that had to be why he couldn't find a pulse. 

"Jaskier, wake up!" He couldn't let the bard die, not when he was the cause of it. He had sent him away, sent him waltzing down the mountain on his own… and he had been the one not to go looking after dark. 

"Jaskier!" Geralt tried again, his hand cupping nearly Jaskier's entire neck. He tried to calm down, to relax enough to be useful again. Finally, he managed to quell the blood roaring in his ears and the shaking of his hands. Then, blooming just beneath his fingertips was a pulse. It was nearly as sluggish as his own and did little to give Jaskier the appearance of life, but it was still there. Jaskier's heart still beat in his chest and Geralt still had a chance to make this all right.

He frowned as he eyed the bite on Jaskier's neck. He didn't have anything for it, not at the moment; but he could make something if he got to roach. He looked up the incline, he couldn't climb it with Jaskier in tow, not completely comatose anyway.

"Jaskier, come on. You've got to wake up just a little." He tried, voice quiet and far too soft. He tapped gently at the bard's cheek in an attempt to rouse him. "Jaskier, please." He said, voice nearly a whisper. He couldn't help but lower his head, pulling Jaskier closer until his nose was buried in brunette hair. Beneath the smell of blood and old fear was the overly familiar scent of cinnamon, blueberries and summer flowers, with the softest of vanilla undertones lingering beneath them all. Geralt found the scent terrifyingly comforting.

The scent gave the distinct feeling of…Home… One that so very few places and people gave him. It was warm and familiar, and caused Geralt to realize he might never get that again. Geralt had sent Jaskier away, told him that his absence would be a blessing. Now… Now, Jaskier was barely clinging to life and Geralt could do little to help him. 

His grip on the bard tightened slightly and he felt, for the first time since he was in training, truly overwhelmed. He couldn't carry the bard up the steep incline, couldn't leave him and come back, couldn't wake him. He closed his eyes and let out a deep, stuttering breath. Geralt felt useless and the feeling was so overwhelming he didn't notice the Bard's pulse get slightly stronger as he kept the other close. He didn't feel the heat slowly returning and the color bleeding into pale cheeks.  

He did hear the sharp, sudden and deep intake of breath from his arms and his eyes snapped open. Lowering his gaze, he found himself looking into open but glassy blue eyes. 

"Jaskier!"

"...Ger't?" 

The Witcher couldn't find the words he wanted, not surprising really, but he didn't really try too hard to find them either. He instead pulled Jaskier close, resting the bard's head against his shoulder as one hand curled tighter around Jaskier's back and the other cupped the back of his head, tangled gently in his hair, nose buried in Jaskier's neck. 

"You're alive..." He breathed, so quietly it took him a moment to realize he had said it out loud. 

The bard didn't respond and for a moment Geralt feared he had passed back out, but when he leaned back enough to see Jaskier's face, he saw the still glazed blue eyes wide in shock. 

"Jaskier." He said again, his tone sharper than he meant for it to be, but he couldn't let Jaskier fall back into shock. Especially now he could see the bite had started bleeding sluggishly.

"Geralt…" Jaskier said slowly, reaching up and running his fingers down Geralt's cheek, the touch feather light. "You're… Really here." He cringed as the move caused the bite to pull, bleeding more steadily and a hiss escaped his clenched teeth. 

"Don't move your arm. You'll hurt yourself worse." Geralt murmured, watching Jaskier's expression curl in confusion. 

"So I am dead?" The bard questioned quietly. 

Geralt narrowed his eyes. "What?"

"You're worried about me…Telling me how not to get hurt worse…But Geralt said he didn't care so I must be dead and you must be a figment of my imagination." His voice was strained, as if stringing so many words together was hard.

Geralt didn't answer him, didn't immediately assure the bard that he didn't hate him, because Geralt couldn't put into words what he was slowly realizing  the other meant to him. 

"I need you to stay awake so we can get back to Roach, alright?" 

Jaskier frowned but gave a small curt nod, eyes closing. Geralt maneuvered him to his feet and, though he had to do most of the work in pulling him along, Jaskier was able to follow his lead when the pair headed to the incline. The bard opened his eyes a few times but seemed unable to keep them that way for long.

"Stay awake." Geralt snapped when he felt the bard start to sag against him. "You have to stay awake, Jaskier."

Jaskier mumbled an apology as he tried to straighten up. Geralt looked up the incline and then at the nearly unconscious Jaskier and thought. He had an idea but knew he would have to be quick about it.

"Jaskier." He said, pushing the bard to face him and hold him at arm's length. "Listen. You need to stay awake enough to hold onto me. Can you do that?"

Jaskier swayed in his feet but nodded, eyes still closed. "Think so…" he muttered.  Geralt eyed the bite again, it had started bleeding in earnest now, worryingly so.

Geralt let go and quickly turned his back to the other and just as he'd thought, Jaskier sagged weakly against him. Geralt knelt and used the momentum to get Jaskier onto his back. As if by instinct, Jaskier wrapped his arms around Geralt's neck and held on.

The witcher brought Jaskier's legs to wrap around his waist before he released him. Trusting the bard to hang on, and keeping in mind the shallow but steady breaths against his neck, he started to climb. 

It was slow going, Geralt mumbling to Jaskier to keep holding onto him and Jaskier trying to do just that. At least once, Geralt was sure the bard had passed back out fully, but his grip didn't slacken. It took three sharp calls of the bard's name to get a mumbled response. 

They reached the top of the incline and, with a small amount of aid from Jaskier, Geralt pushed the bard to lay on solid ground and then followed up himself. As soon as he was no longer clinging to Geralt, Jaskier let his body fall limp. Geralt sat for just a second, just long enough to calculate how far from roach they were before he shuffled to Jaskier's side. 

"One more time Jask, wake up and stay awake." Geralt said sharply, the only tone that seemed to really snap Jaskier to attention.

Jaskier made a small noise, possibly an objection, in the back of his throat but his eyes did blink open blearily. Geralt glanced up towards the path and then back at Jaskier. Decision made, he stood and then leaned down to scoop up the bard quickly. Holding him in a bridal carry, he jostled the bard only enough to secure his grip on him. Jaskier, despite the manhandling, stayed worryingly silent. He glanced down and saw that, while Jaskier did indeed still have his eyes open, he was far too busy staring intently, or as intently as he could seeing as his eyes were still glassy and far away, at Geralt's face. 

Geralt decided he would question that later, they didn't have time now, and started down the mountain at a pace that couldn't be called a run, but only because of how careful the Witcher had to be.

He reached Roach even quicker than he anticipated, and quickly laid Jaskier into the grass beside her before immediately digging through the nearest saddle bag. 

Roach, for her part, seemed to sense Geralt's unease, as she nickered softly at him. As he searched she leaned her head down towards Jaskier and nosed at, and then gently lipped his cheek, pulling a soft, worryingly wet laugh from the bard that had Geralt freezing in place for a second. 

"Roach?" Jaskier murmured. "Hello darling girl. When did you get here?"

Geralt couldn't help but feel his chest lighten slightly. Jaskier was talking, he was laughing, he was staying far more awake than he had for Geralt, and even if it was because of Roach, Geralt found he couldn't be upset. Roach huffed a breath at the bard before looking back at Geralt, almost as if to say 'Hurry up you absolute buffoon! He's hurt!"

Geralt decided the other thing he would question later would be how the hell his horse had given him such a look, shelving that particular question in the back of his mind. 

Once he had gotten what he needed from his bag, he knelt beside Jaskier, on his other side seeing as Roach nipped and refused adamantly to move when he'd tried to ease her aside. With Jaskier still talking to the horse, even if it had at some point careened into less talking and more absently mumbling about Roach's lovely coat, Geralt got to work. 

The first application of salve,enchanted thanks to a very smug Yennefer last time they'd met, had Jaskier hissing through his teeth, eyes clenched shut and all playful mirth about his ode to Roach immediately vanishing from him. 

"I know…" Geralt found himself murmuring. "I know. But it'll help Jaskier. It's going to help." 

Hurts…" he hissed, bleary eyes opening for only a moment before he clenched them shut again. They didn't open the rest of the time that Geralt worked. 

Once the bite and gashes on his cheek and lower back, he had to turn him to his side for that, much to Roach's apparent disapproval, were covered in salve and then bandages, Geralt laid Jaskier gently on his back again. The bard, having passed out again, looked too worryingly close to how Geralt had found him earlier and Geralt couldn't help but reach out and run his fingers through the bard's hair, down his unmarred cheek, coming to a stop over his pulse point. Roach, for her part in this strange happening, slowly knelt and then huffed as she laid down beside the bard and her Witcher, laying her head gently across Jaskier's stomach.

Sitting there, the sun now high in the sky, Geralt couldn't help but fall into a light meditation, his hand never leaving Jaskier's neck, never leaving the steadying heartbeat beneath his fingertips. 

That's how Jaskier awoke, with a gentle press of fingers at his throat, a tightness from the skin where bandages were wrapped tightly, and the feeling of something warm and heavy across his stomach. Opening his eyes, he couldn't help the look of shock that crossed his face as he saw both Roach, and then Geralt, sitting so close to him. 

The uptick in his heartbeat had Geralt snapping his eyes open only seconds after the bard and when honey met cornflower, he all but shoved Roach's head aside and pulled the bard to him in a hug, blatantly ignoring the horse as she let out an angry nicker and climbed slowly to her feet. He buried his nose against Jaskier's throat, taking the place of his fingers, and his hands wrapped around the bard's shoulders and tangled in his hair. 

Jaskier was so taken aback that he didn't even have the state of mind to question what Geralt was doing, instead, raising his arms to wrap them back around the Witcher. 

"Jaskier… You're alright.." he heard Geralt murmur against his neck, the movement of his lips and the warmness of his breath pulling a gasping shiver from Jaskier, despite the uncalled-forness of the timing. 

"Geralt?" 

Geralt tightened his grip slightly, cutting Jaskier off before he could speak again. "I'm sorry. Gods Jaskier I'm so fucking sorry." His tone was tight, angry, and Jaskier tensed at it. Geralt was quick to smell the change in his bard's emotions, the strangely citrus scent of confusion giving way to the sickly sweet scent of fear. 

He leaned back, golden eyes wide as he looked Jaskier over, and then met his eyes. "I'm sorry." He repeated, using as much willpower as he could to keep the self hatred and anger from his voice, leaving it instead soft and broken. "I never should have let you leave like that…What I said was just…" 

Jaskier watched him struggle to find the words, to speak more than three at a time and felt his lips curling into a soft, tentative smile. 

"You've so rarely apologized that I have half a mind to test you with silver." He said, attempting to joke with Geralt, but frowned when the statement pulled a look of hurt across Geralt's face. "Geralt… No, I know it's you…" he amended quickly, reaching out to cup Geralt's cheek. 

Geralt absently leaned into the touch, keeping his eyes on Jaskier as he did. Gods, the surprise on the others face at the movement, the soft smile that slowly returned, made Geralt's heart skip a beat. " I'm sorry." He repeated instead of doing what he wanted to do and pressing a kiss to Jaskier's lips. 

Roach, apparently having had enough of whatever it was her two men were doing and the dancing around each other, huffed and stomped her foot before slowly circling around to stand behind Geralt and pressing at the back of his head with her nose, leaning him closer to the bard. 

"Geralt?" Jaskier asked, tone soft, as if he didn't want to disturb the other. 

"Jaskier… Can you say you forgive me… please?" He found himself whispering. 

Jaskier's eyes widened and he fumbled over his words. "What? Of course I… I mean you apologized and… I knew you didn't mean what you said, but I mean I'm still a little upset at you and…" the bard was stumbling over his words and Geralt had the urge to quiet him. Realizing that Jaskier was continuing to try and fumble out an acceptance, Geralt took a deep breath and leaned forward, capturing the bard's lips with his own and silencing the other man. 

Pulling back a moment later Geralt couldn't help but smile at the soft 'oh' the other let out. He had half a mind to say something else, something more, but didn't have a chance as Jaskier surged back to him and pulled him into another kiss. 

Geralt had the feeling it would still take some time for him to fully apologize to Jaskier, even if Jaskier himself denied the need, and he was already attempting to plan out more apologies for the future. For now though, he simply pulled Jaskier close, deepened the kiss, and for once, didn't ignore the spicy scent of arousal that surged from the bard. He did, subconsciously take note of the sweet, honey scent that lingered below the arousal. 

Love, he realized belatedly, the soft vanilla scent was love. 

[thenightling]

A rant against some not-so-great Witcher fans...

The behavior I've seen from some Witcher (book) fans lately does NOT make me proud to usually be a book purist. And no, I'm not talking about the ones who are upset that Jaskier is being shipped with an aged-up Radovid. ( I understand the concern there but you know it's just for plot angst.)

I'm seeing blatant homophobia and sometimes out-right biphobia, including videos of "book fans" who won't even use the term bisexual. They claim Jaskier was "made gay for woke points" by Netflix. Some of the nicer comments I've seen include: "But he's slept with lots of women!" And "But I wanted to see him with Prescilla" (even though she was a creation of the video games and Netflix has no rights to her...) "This means he can't be with Precscilla." ...I can't help but feel these people don't know what bisexual means... They didn't seem to think he couldn't be with Priscilla when they mentioned other woman lovers. I'm still in awe that there are people who claim there's nothing bi about Jaskier (AKA Buttercup AKA Dandelion) in the Netflix show. And again this is not about who he hooks up with. I've seen comments on Facebook of "This is why Henry Cavill left. He's tired of the f-- sh-t." and similar statements. Last year I came across some Witcher book fans who insisted Ciri can never be a "True" Witcher (even in the games where that is an ending) because "only a man can be a true Witcher!" and "The method for making REAL Witchers was lost. It's important to the canon that no woman ever be a Witcher!" And now it's "They're ruining Dandelion!" and "There's no hint that Jaskier was ever gay!" Excuse me... Please read these lyrics to the song he wrote when Geralt left him on the side on the mountain. And as if those lyrics aren't obvious enough Yennefer actually confronts him on the song being about Geralt.

For people who just "love the original books" I'm seeing blatant sexism and homophobia / biphobia in your midst and it's starting to make me ashamed and distrusting of other book fans. You can't convince me statements of "They've ruined Jaskier by making him queer!" are purely because of who his love interest is going to be next season.

And so many "No wonder Henry Cavill left!" Actually, there has been NO official statement about why Henry Cavill is leaving the show, just a lot of fan speculation (Though yes, some of it is reasonable as he was a fan of the books). He is extremely busy though with the Warhammer franchise, and there's a rumor he might have a Sherlock spin-off and some other things in the works. Just know that when people try to insist how "Straight" Jaskier was portrayed these last two seasons (and spin-off prequel series) and go on long tangents about why Ciri can never be a Witcher... Try to consider they might not be "trying to protect the integrity" of the series after all. I've seen behavior like this before and it's never really about protecting the stories. Here's a hint. I'll use my own dislike of the Interview With the Vampire TV series for comparison. If the person complains that "(this character) would never harm (this other character here)" you may want to listen. The story might matter to them. (This goes for Yennefer and Ciri and Lestat and Louis of Interview with The vampire). However if the complaint has to do with race (i.e. whining about Louis being played by a black man in Interview with the vampire), or sexuality... chances are it's not really about the story at all.

I've seen rants about how straight Jaskier "used to be" and I can't help but wonder if those people were able to keep a straight face (ha!) while writing it. It would be funny if they weren't serious. Honestly these ARE the same sort of people who used to insist Xena and Gabrielle were straight, or that Louis in interview With the Vampire was straight, or that John Constantine in the Hellblazer comics was straight (and those still existed until relatively recently.)

[colorfulandblack]

In honour of getting though Witcher season 3 I would like to share with you my thought process while watching this show, not that anyone asked. Can you tell Jaskier is my fav?

Season 1

Me, seeing Jaskier for the first time: a baby! Must protect, already fave.

Me throughout the season: How are you still alive? And how are you not aging?

Me still at season one going through social media: oh, so you don't like Jaskier, huh? Square up bitch cos I'm coming for your ass. Also why the hell is he called Dandelion? Jaskier is a buttercup not a dandelion? Dandelion would be so fucking funny though [image of Sid and last dandelion of season vivid in my mind]

Me still on season one: ok I know we NEED to normalise closeness between two male friends but that's definitely gay, right? Like Jaskier just readies such dumbass bisexual energy and he so clearly is in love with Geralt

Me, during the mountain scene: Bitch, bitch, bitch how dare you [actually insert the Jaskier HOW DARE YOU picture] actually stops watching the show for like a week

Season 2

Me, immediately at the beginning: where's Jaskier? Where's my man? My child? Where's that idiot?

Me, after I see Jaskier: what have they DONE to you? But the songs absolutely slaps (talking about the whore song that was so funny)

The apology scene: Nope, nope, sir that's the most half assed apology I've ever seen

Overall season two: yes, yes serious matters and Jaskier is a comic relief but could you just try to give him some more screen time like bitch he's trying his best, he risks his life, he does some good, he loves Ciri and Geralt just fucking appreciate him! I know it ain't about him but for being Geralts friend for so fucking long I think he deserves some appreciation for his accomplishments from others characters, even a little

Season 3

Sees trailer: "Dear friend.." ahaha that's for Jaskier for sure! [Sees a blur of him] oh thank god he's in here!

Me, after seeing Jaskier: oh, god oh no. Why, why, WHY?! WHO they fuck took the game design?! Put it back I say PUT IT BACK!!!

Me seeing Radowid: *squints as he praises Jaskier, clearly flirts with him and actually appreciates him UNLIKE SOME PEOPLE* I want to trust you but that would be a mistake

Me, throughout the season: ah, so you finally admit that Jaskier is in love with Geralt who somewhat patched things up with Yen so you give Jaskier a new love interest, who is a man [icarly interesting image]

(listen I loved them this season but it felt like a weird sudden jump in their relationship and idk, by this season rocked I just wished they included Jaskier more and if canonicaly were not getting Graskier then fucking give him some screen time as a part of a family! He's great with Ciri!)

Also that Valdo scene was fucking HILARIOUS

Me when, suprise, suprise Radowid did a backflip: I knew it, why am I surprised, I knew it. Jaskier why do you have a TYPE?!

Final thoughts: Jaskier fits perfectly into their witcher family dynamics just give him more screen time! Please! also very curious about Radowid redemption arc although I'm not ready to let go yet, and also may I add the music, fantastic, don't care if it's periodic or not Joey my man you killed it.

It's clear that Jaskier has a type for like unrequited/getting hurt type of love or the writers just love whumping him which like fine but then make it fucking seen like by others? It takes a fucking plot device character in SEASON 3 to see it? like give me some fucking comfort as well you assholes.

Also super weird that they went with the game design and gradually changed it simultaneously ageing Jaskier. I mean why now? He hasn't aged in like a decade and then he suddenly did? Just keep him immortal will you?

Idk it's chaotic lads cos I just finished it and I think I've seen season 1 most times and the rest kinda blurs together so

[chemfreakwriting]

Fanfic-Author Tagging game 2022

Thank you @louveclaviere for inviting me to join this fun! Let's see what I got :D

Rules:

post the top 5 works you're most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular),

your top 4 current WIPs that you're excited to release in the new year,

your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year,

your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year,

and your number 1 favorite line you've written this year!

tagging: @kazuza-art, @moorishflower, @queuest, @softest-punk

Five Works:

Do I even have five works in 2022??? To my surprise, indeed I have!

Dungeons, Dragons and Witchers, a mystery about a missing player in an online DnD game with characters from The Witcher-series. Born out of a binge watch of critical role.

Magic Winter Nights, a Tomarry-romcom about a millionaire and a poor artist getting mistaken for the other in an opulent mountain hotel.

Hannibal the killer whale, my big fic this year. Lots of research about marine life, orcas and the polution of our oceans. Went longer than expected, has beautiful fanart and a spinnoff planned :D

The feral child, my sweet summer child. Most popular fic this year, the people looove Severitus (good taste!).

Kiss, marry, kill, my first ever entry for a fest! Loved writing it, had so much fun that a bonus chapter got written. Minister of magic Tom and Auror Harry. Murderhusband-vibes and Grindeldore cheering from the sidelines.

Four WIPs:

Beloved Enemy - Comming in Q1.Tomarry stranded in a desert and forced to work together

The snake temple- Multiship, Tomarry, Grindeldore and Bartymort with monsterfucking

Fear the kraken - My first try at Our Flag Means Death. Fantasy-AU with Kraken!Ed in an aquarium and caretaker!Stede

La belle epoque - Hannigram with dragons in a victorian setting

Some kind of benevolent alien invsion - With Harry as a spaceship AI and Voldy as black alien goo eating the crew.

Three Improvements:

I finished fics!!! I finished so much fics!

My translation work comes along very nicely. I learned a lot from my betas and I get faster every time.

I manage to construct and follow storyarcs. Sometimes a bit wobly, but there were logical conclusions and satisfactory endings <3

Two Resolutions:

Write diverse. Branch out into difernt fandoms, differnt ships, differnt topics, differnt lenghs of fic.

Keep writing regulary. Set a time of day aside for writing, even if it is only 30 min. Keep sprinting with the discord-server and have fun

One Line:

"Is there anything I can do to convince you of my trustworthiness? I'll take your secret to the grave, but I'd really prefer not to have to do it right away."

[sirsparklepants]

I started writing a witcher s2 ot3 get together back in January, and despite my optimistic working title of "operation make Geralt come dry" it never really went anywhere, much less anywhere NSFW. I do still like what I've got, though.

-

It was, frankly, a massive disappointment that the crumbling cold walls of Kaer Morhen weren't enough to justify bunking up together. Getting broken out of prison didn't exactly give one time to grab a set of luggage along the way, and so Jaskier was sadly lacking in winter gear and would have appreciated someone else to warm the narrow beds in the witchers' keep. And of course, all the inhabitants - barring, of course, Ciri, and perhaps the older, witcher, as even Jaskier thought twice about fucking his best friend's father - were quite attractive, and he'd have to be blind not to notice. True, there was a sad dearth of women, unless he wanted to brave a snowed-over mountain pass, but just because Jaskier didn't often go for men didn't mean that he couldn't recognize an attractive muscular specimen when they were right in front of him. And he went for celibacy even less than he went for men.

But alas, it was not to be. He'd carefully felt the other witchers out, as surely growing up surrounded by other men in the first froth of teenage hormones, kept from setting foot in a human town for fear of their safety, had made at least one of the witchers flexible. After all, a boys' school had made Jaskier much the same.

None of these witchers were, it turned out. Or at least, not with him - either that or they thought he really had been talking about his fretting skills. Blunt language seemed a witcher's forte, even if it certainly wasn't Jaskier's. But he didn't fancy spending the winter with a keep full of people who had bluntly rejected him. At least this way he kept his pride.

Thus, he was quite surprised to receive a visitor as he was steeling himself for another night in a cold bed. And even more to see Yennefer behind the creak of his bedroom door.

She didn't ask to be invited in - of course - only strode in wearing the mantle of her old confidence, shutting the door sharply behind her. He saw her shoulders heave with a deep breath as she held onto the iron pull for an extra moment. Then she turned to look him in the eye, clenching her hands into fists before she spoke.

"I need your help."

"No!" Jaskier said immediately. "Last time you said that I ended up watching a man getting his face bitten off from under a table. No more favors for suicidal witches!"

Yennefer rolled her eyes, but her old self wasn't in it. "Not like last time," she said. "I daresay you'll even enjoy it."

Jaskier could feel his face contort into what must have been a truly garish expression of disbelief. Certainly, they'd saved each other's lives, and their sniping had settled into the kind of comfortable bicker Jaskier could easily keep going for hours. But he couldn't imagine enjoying whatever onerous task Yennefer was trying to foist off on him with that tightness around her eyes.

"Truly," she said with a dry laugh. "It's to do with your favorite thing."

"Music?" Jaskier asked. "We both know my poor lute is languishing somewhere in Oxenfurt."

"Not music," Yennefer said, lips a little pinched. "Fucking."

Jaskier blinked. "Ah…" he said, fumbling for a response to that one. "We met at a magical orgy. I thought you had that pretty well in hand for yourself."

"I think we've both had to take things in hand recently," she said, and Jaskier barked out a slightly stunned laugh. "And I have a solution for you. I want you to fuck Geralt."

"You what?" Jaskier asked, and if his voice reached a pitch normally quite out of his range, he was simply going to be proud of his vocal flexibility. "I know you have that well in hand - and, and everywhere else, for that matter. I've seen you two, you know."

"Not any more," Yennefer said, her voice flat. "Surely you can see that he's still angry at me. But," her mouth thinned, "he's tired, Jaskier. He needs to rest. He needs, frankly, someone to wear him out enough that he can stop thinking. And if that can't be me any more, it'll have to be you."

"Am I supposed to be flattered by that?" Jaskier asked, feeling a flare of the old prickly temper Yennefer had so often evoked in him. "'Please, Jaskier, for his own good, you must find it in yourself to - roll over for your friend, as I don't have enough goodwill with anyone else in this keep to ask, despite the fact that you have no indication he's even interested in such and also that there's quite a bit of conflicted feelings to be sorted out!' Oh yes, how could I possibly enjoy that?"

"Do you think this is easy for me?" Yennefer asked, her voice crescendoing in a way that Jaskier might have found impressive under different circumstances. "Asking someone to fuck my former lover because he can't relax enough to sleep through the night but when I touch him he flinches away from me? Because it isn't. You're the only one it's even halfway tolerable to ask!"

Jaskier paused, his mouth half open. This was an endorsement he'd never expected to hear from Yennefer, of all people. "I, well, alright," he said weakly. That had rather taken the wind out of his righteous sails. He swallowed and took a moment to rally, and then held up one finger. "But! How do you know he's interested? For that matter, how do you know I am?"

Yennefer smirked at him, a little unevenly. "What, did you think your little breakup anthem was subtle?" she asked.

"Breakup anthem?" Jaskier absolutely did not squawk. "That's a truly uncharitable interpretation of my work."

"And a true one," she said. "As for Geralt, well. Let's just say that he has certain tastes sometimes best suited for your anatomy, not mine, although we more than made do." Her eyes flickered significantly downwards.

Well, that was certainly an inspiring thought. It didn't make this whole mad situation any less of a bad idea, though. Jaskier fell in love quite easily, especially when his prick was involved. To add that into the equation when he had loved Geralt as his dearest friend already - was quickly getting back there, even - had the makings of quite the disaster, and Jaskier's self-preservation instincts beat down his libido, albeit with a serious struggle.

"That doesn't mean he's interested in men, simply that he's rather more adventurous than your average senior citizen," Jaskier said, but even he could hear the weakness in his own voice.

The hesitation was obvious to Yennefer, and she gave him no quarter. "Do you think he spends the winters celibate?" she asked, smirking a little. "Our situation notwithstanding, visitors are quite the special event." Ha! Jaskier had known it had to be so.

"He's your friend, Jaskier," Yennefer said, letting her voice grow soft and peering up at him through her lashes. "And… so am I. All of this is hard enough. I just want you to make it a little easier on him, that's all."

Jaskier's heart lurched in his chest. "I do want that, of course I do," he said helplessly. "But Yennefer, I don't think this is going to work out quite the way you think."

"What else can we do?" Yennefer snapped, eyes flashing.

"I'm so glad you asked," Jaskier said, choosing to take her words at face value. "I think I have a better solution in mind."

-

As always during their stay, dinner was filled with a thrumming tension that Jaskier was sure he could touch if it grew even minutely stronger. If it were for his own sake, he was sure Geralt would have forgiven Yennefer already. He probably thought he owed her one good betrayal of her own to make up for his shocking breach of her trust, or some nonsense like that. But he was a father now, however much he'd resisted it in the past, and had taken to the protectiveness of the good ones like a duck to water.

If he were a man with slightly more scruples, Jaskier thought he might have felt bad about planning to take such shameless advantage of that. Luckily for both Geralt and Yennefer, his scruples fell easily by the wayside when sex was involved. That and the fact that he truly did care for Geralt and didn't mind in the slightest bullying him into caring for himself.

"Right," Jaskier said, as soon as Ciri had rounded the corner with two other witchers, off to play some game or another to make them all less skittish with each other. "I simply cannot take another day of this." He gestured grandly between the way Yennefer's shoulders were crawling towards her ears and the white-knuckled grip Geralt kept around his cup. "And, possibly more importantly, neither can Ciri."

"What?" Geralt asked, turning to meet his eyes.

Jaskier sighed. "You can't have missed that the girl watches your every move, Geralt," he said. "She loves you, and she wants desperately to be like you. And every time Yennefer is in the room, you watch her like she'll open a portal and summon a few of those new and improved monsters herself."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Yennefer's gaze flick downwards to her hands, but he kept his attention on Geralt.

"Do you think she doesn't deserve it?" Geralt asked, voice low and rough.

Jaskier laid one hand out on the table and opened it towards Geralt, beseeching. "It's not about deserving it or not," he said. "If you didn't trust her not to hurt Ciri, you'd find someone else to teach her, no matter the cost. Right now, all you're doing is shaking your daughter's faith in her teacher, and that's the last thing she needs when working with something as volatile as her power." (Yennefer made a noise, and Jaskier ignored it. He was well aware that all three of them had been scared of their teachers one way or another. That certainly hadn't helped turn them into healthy, functional adults.)

Geralt grunted. "So what do you expect me to do?" he asked. "She almost used Ciri for something terrible. She could have killed her. Do you expect me to just let that go?"

"No, of course not," Jaskier said. "We both know that certain wounds take a long time to heal over, if at all. No, I'm proposing something entirely different. You both need a trust-building exercise, and I have just the thing."

-

"A bath?" Geralt asked skeptically, when they made it to Jaskier's room - neutral territory, as it were.

"Yes, a bath," Jaskier said, fixing him with a determined stare. "You need to accept being vulnerable with Yennefer again, and she needs to work towards making herself trustworthy. So you're going to get naked and she's going to bathe you. And I," he said, indicating himself with a flourish of his hand, "am going to supervise, in case either of you feels like saying something nasty."

"Just supervise?" Yennefer asked, a thin veneer of sarcasm wrapped around the stiffness in her like razor wire.

"Well, if you need my expertise, I will be happy to instruct you," he said.

Geralt snorted. "Because having her dump a bucket over my head is going to make me trust her," he said.

"Oh, shut up," Jaskier said, rolling his eyes. "Yennefer, a hot bath, please. I'll help Geralt undress, since he's feeling a bit recalcitrant."

Really, Geralt didn't need his help with just shirt, pants, and boots, and they both knew it. But it let Jaskier put his hands on Geralt's shoulders and speak to him softly as Yennefer spoke some words in Elder.

"I think this will help," he said in an undertone. "At worst, it's a hot bath. I'll be here the whole time."

"Do you think that makes it better?" Geralt said nearly as softly, but there was a small upturn at one corner of his mouth.

"Of course it does," Jaskier said. "I make every situation with one's clothes off better."

Geralt gave a subvocal little chuckle, but he did let Jaskier drop to peel off his boots while he unbuttoned his shirt enough to slip it over his head, and that was about the best Jaskier could ask for.

Jaskier busied himself with his own layers, stripping down to shirtsleeves and rolling them out of the way. When he looked up, Geralt was sinking into a steaming tub with Yennefer kneeling beside, something vulnerable in her face. Jaskier stepped over to join them, pressing the large sponge beside them into Yennefer's hands.

[wanderingwolfwitcher]

"Know how it is, how harsh and unforgiving the world is, from an early age. Though at least we Witchers were better prepared for a world that despises us, before setting foot on the Path. Still, there is what you are taught, and how people, the world and destiny play out. Many young Witchers, for all their training, skills and mutations, have met with unpleasant, sudden, undignified ends... only experience, wisdom and caution can really keep those of my kind alive for as long as I have been. Life and destiny has a way of weeding folk out, however prepared they are. And suffering reveals character."

Eskel's deep, calm voice gradually returned as he worked away at the stew, in the wake of the noblewoman's words about her evidently bitter past. It made all the more sense how she had turned out, her personal motives for joining him against Stregobor and Eltibald... both of them had unfinished business for personal, related reasons. He felt some more sympathy for her, not that he would allow it to make him drop his guard altogether. There was no denying she was dangerous, Sorceress or not... but something told him most of those who had suffered at her hand had been unsuspecting, naive, underestimated her for her beauty. Not a folly he would commit again, after his dealings with Sabrina. At Syanna's mention of the fairy tale, and connecting the two of them closer together, the Witcher uttered a low chuckle under his breath. Not an inappropriate comparison, right down to her chosen attire. Most adults outgrew fairy tales, but it seemed she held on to them... a smart decision... true or not, their were always lessons to be derived from fairy tales. Even if he had his grave doubts she was anywhere near as innocent as the Red of the stories had been. She probably had been though, once upon a time. As he drew closer to finishing up preparing their meal, savoring the scent filling the cavern, he found his voice again, amused, viper eyes returning to her blue pair.

"Perhaps so, Red. Better a fairy tale sort of girl than a Sorceress any day. Always been more like the Woodsman than a Knight sort myself. If I'm not at Kaer Morhen, I'm more at home on some mountain, in a forest, or some cavern or other. I help who I can, where I can, on the Path, but I ain't swearing chivalry oaths or fealty to some noble, just so circumstance will inevitably lead me to break the former to uphold the latter. The Witcher's life is the only life for me. An honest, free one, where we belong only to ourselves. A luxury even your cousin Emhyr can't afford, for all his power. Golden shackles are still shackles. Perhaps that's part of why so many despise us. We get to exist outside their social hierarchy and duties. The Emperor of Nilfgaard means no more or less to me than the lowest peasant. All are merely potential clients to me."

@starwrittenfates

Eskel silently glanced Syanna's way at her observations and smile, and then back ahead as they set off from the stream and gradually through the woods. His cheek scars itched with memories and dark thoughts her words drew, but he could not itch them as he carried the stag. He felt a familiar stab of bitterness at the knowledge his brothers had been led astray, off the Path, even knowing and being glad that they were happier this way. Knowing they weren't cut out for the Witcher's life forever. Wanted to be the first to die peacefully in their beds, instead of as a Witcher one day on the Path, or at Dol Dhu Lokke. The fame hadn't made life any easier on Geralt than his dramatics and moodiness already hadn't. He had long put himself through more nonsense than destiny already deigned to put him through... while for some reason Lambert had long been jealous of his fame, and now sought to emulate it with Keira Metz, taking a Sorceress as a lover, allowing her to lead him around by the nose as her manservant while she traveled the North curing plagues. He couldn't imagine a less dignified fate for a Witcher. Even so, it was their lives, and their decisions to make, for better and for worse. Mostly for the worse, in his opinion, for what little it mattered. A true Witcher walked the Path alone... and he was now nothing else if not alone, of his guild. On that thought, he laid some of it out for her calmly, giving voice to them gradually, taking his time. Speaking to the stranger, outsider, things he hadn't spoken of to another before.

"Being a Witcher ain't for most folk, even those of us who survive it awhile. Wolf and Lambert gave up on the Path to pursue their own Sorceress and retirement related interests, never really appreciated this kind of life. Were destined for it, but weren't made for it... aren't traditionalists. Luckily I am. Never cared much for a life of comfort... especially not the comforts or manipulations of Sorceresses. Life shouldn't be easy for us... comforts rust and dull us like a sword left to hang up on the wall. Someone has to keep our school going... such as it is. There will be a Second Conjunction of the Spheres in 1358 or around then, if the homesick Vampires are to be believed. Continent is going to need to be ready for it. The False Conjunction in Skellige more recently, the business with the Wild Hunt, woke a lot of folk up as well, the monsters that poured through. That means more Witchers, after all the time the Continent's ingrates spent destroying our schools, thinking we outlived our usefulness. Can't say I ever expected to be the last of my guild, Grandmaster and inheritor of ruins, the one who must restore them, compared to all the better Witchers I knew. If I've learned anything in my long life, it's that destiny has always had a strange, morbid sense of humor like that."

The Witcher grimaced, chuckling under his breath and shaking his head, but knowing it was all a moot point, and there was little sense elaborating further than he already had. No doubt she of all people could understand that final point about how cruel and unexpected destiny could be. Pulling the rug from under one's feet. Though in his case, it hadn't only been related to his own experience with the Black Sun. The Black Sun matter with Stregobor and Eltibald, their shared cause, would allow him to close the chapter on that part of his destiny at last... and go forth tracking down Idarran of Ulivo and restoring the School of the Wolf. A matter likely to be far more difficult and complicated even than his business with the Black Sun... in more ways than one. He would not be able to give it the proper focus with his unfinished business in Kovir. At her voiced desire to try the Blue Mountain stew, his marred face merely smiled appreciatively and nodded, lapsing again into silence as they reached the camp and cavern... taking the time to pat Scorpion. After doing so, he got to work at once, setting the pot over the fire, gathering the ingredients, carving up the various sorts of meats from his hunt, and putting it all into the pot, adding spices, herbs and stirring it up for good measure, taking his time. He spoke to her again as he did so, viper eyes returning her way thoughtfully. Deep, languid voice washing over the Black Sun noblewoman again while he worked away, coaxing the stew now again with the spoon and heating it further with an Igni Sign.

"Getting there. So far so good. Should be filling, and taste decent enough. Ain't fancy Toussaint cooking, but reckon you haven't eaten much more fancy food than I have, with all your time away from home. Probably for the best, least it means you likely know how to appreciate the food that you get. Not turning your nose up at everything not served on a silver platter. Know how to rough it. Ain't usual for most nobles, in my experience."

@starwrittenfates

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

Waiting patiently for the second season of The Witcher to drop so all those fabulous Etsy babes will have source material to make me a Jaskier Hat™️ that we only saw two seconds of in the trailer: