#I want you all to know that Jaskiers 'I heard that-' is genuine and he is more relaxed but he has NO IDEAS ABOUT ANYTHING

[spielzeugkaiser]

Just imagining that AU of the AU where Geralt’s feeling the baby kick for the first time and he goes all puppy eyed. “Aww. They like you!”

Oh, I think he'd not feel joy immediately! It's more like f e a r.

[biscuitbox23]

The Stag and the Warbler

Pairing: Jaskier/Dandelion x Witcher!Reader.

Summary: The bard has written a song about you. And it has given you a lot to think about.

Author's note: It's a late night thought I've had for a while. Jaskier has always been my favorite character in both the Witcher games, books and the tv show. I wanted to give him a bit of honor by writing this :) —also a little Skyrim reference cuz im not creative in song writing.

Warning: platonic love, fluff, kind of a bittersweet ending.

As Jaskier strummed the strings of his lute, he hummed the tune of a popular ballad. "Our hero, our hero, claims a warrior's heart…" he sang but then paused mid-verse, his forehead creasing in concentration. "I tell you, I tell you, the Witcher comes- no, that does not sound so good," he muttered.

You couldn't help but chuckle at him. You busied yourself with grooming your loyal steed, Melorax. The horse stood still, contentedly munching on bits of hay. While you brushed off dust and dirt from his coat, you could see the tiny frown written on Jaskier's face as he tried to come up with a better verse for his song.

Curious, you asked him, "Who is this hero exactly?"

Jaskier looked up, glad for the distraction. "Ah, well," he said, his fingers stilling on the lute. "It's just a tale, my friend. A story of a brave warrior who fights for justice and honor."

You nodded, understanding the stories that Jaskier shared with you during your travels as a Witcher. Tales like these were always inspiring and entertaining. Jaskier had been your companion for quite a while now, and you had grown fond of his musical talents and witty banter. He would often compare your kinder nature to his friend Geralt, who hailed from a different Witcher school whom you had heard of but never met. After grooming Melorax, you approached the front of the horse and kissed his soft muzzle. The horse whinnied softly, and you smiled at him, feeling content.

"You know I just hunt monsters for coin," you recall, sitting near him as you started the small bonfire.

"Well, yes. But, Y/n of Verden makes a good song subject. Don't you think?" Jaskier smiled widely at you as you put your hands near the fire for warmth. His fingers began strumming on his lute, calmly humming with the tune of his renowned instrument.

You began to listen closely. "With a silver sword gleaming and signs so fierce and cold…" Jaskier sang, "Believe, believe, the Stag of Verden has told."

"Stag?" You asked sheepishly, looking over at him with an expression of confusion.

"Umm�� do you prefer to be called deer?" Jaskier asked sheepishly.

"Just confused with the Stag part…" you replied.

"Well, you remind me of a stag."

"How so?" You asked.

"Well, you're strong, very resilient, and almost similar to that of a protector of the realm," Jaskier beamed with poetic pride.

Upon hearing those words, a sense of pride and appreciation washed over you. It was rare for a Witcher to receive such positive recognition, as they are empty vessels of beings whose sole purpose was to slaughter monsters and collect payment. Being regarded as a hero was a new and unexpected experience for you. However, it was evident that most people still saw you as an exterminator who only existed to rid the world of dangerous pests rather than a true hero. All you let out was a slight chuckle.

Jaskier turned his head towards you, and his eyes met yours. He noticed the corners of your mouth curling up, and your eyes sparkled. Curious, he leaned slightly to his right and tilted his head, trying to catch a glimpse of what had caused this reaction in you. "What's so funny, Y/n?" he asked, his voice full of genuine interest and amusement.

"Oh, nothing," you jested. With a look of concern on the bard's face, he turned his gaze back towards his musical instrument, the loot. He asked in a questioning tone, "Is there something wrong with my song? Don't you like it?"

"I assure you that I like it," you said to the worried songwriter before returning to warm your hands by the fire. "Please continue."

Jaskier's face lit up with joy as he responded, "As you wish." He meticulously plucked the strings of his lute, producing a melody that seemed to flow effortlessly from his fingers. His body swayed with the rhythm, and it was clear from his performance that he was a true virtuoso of his craft.

"In the heart of the woodlands, where shadows dance and play Beware, beware, the Stag is on her way For monsters she'll conquer, with every foe she'll slay

You'll know, you'll know, the Stag brings light to the gray."

You were captivated as the bard plucked at the strings of his lute, his voice soft and sweet as honey. The music wrapped around you like a warm embrace, easing the tension in your body and calming your mind. The bard's songs were beautiful masterpieces of melody and meaning. What impressed you the most was how his music seemed to capture the essence of the world around you, bringing to life the sights and sounds of your travels in a way that words alone never could. Being a Witcher often meant living a life of solitude and danger. It made you feel isolated and alone. But having the bard by your side changed everything. His easy conversation and quick wit were a constant source of comfort and amusement, and you eagerly looked forward to every new adventure with him by your side.

By the end, you knew you could never repay the bard for all he had given you, but you were grateful nonetheless.

"You know one thing," you thought to him, "you remind me of a Warbler."

The bard chuckled at you with his sweet smile, "a warbler?"

"Yeah, those birds that sing a lot," you recalled.

As you reminisce about your childhood, your mind wanders back to when you were a young girl, growing up in a Witcher school. Life wasn't easy for you, especially since you were a frail child with a mother who struggled to provide for you. Days at school could be long and tiring, and you often find yourself exhausted by the end of them.

One particular memory that stands out to you is the sound of the Warblers that would perch on the window sill of your room. Their melodic songs would echo through the walls, piercing your ears and keeping you awake at night. You would try to drown out the noise by covering your ears with your pillow, but it was no use - the Warblers always seemed to find a way to sing their way into your thoughts. Despite the annoyance they caused, however, you couldn't help but feel a sense of comfort and familiarity in their presence. After all, they had been a constant presence in your life for as long as you could remember.

"They were annoying when I was young," You scoffed playfully, "I hated listening to them sing whenever I wanted some peace. Now that I'm older, I wish they still sang to me," you look at the burning bonfire as the warmth engulfed the front of your body. “I like your songs, jaskier, even if you played the same tune for a week. I won’t get tired of you.”

"Huh…" Jaskier gave your statement some thought, "I've never had anyone think of me that way." He sat over next to the fire, feeling a bit cold.

"Why? May I ask," You cocked a brow at him.

"I'm a bit of an exasperation and––" Before Jaskier could continue, he stopped himself. He could ruin his godly reputation in front of you, and he did not want that.

"A skirt-chaser?" You continued.

"Oh- No, no, not that," you can sense the embarrassment that overcame his confidence.

"right, alright," A mischievous chuckle escaped your lips as you heard the mention of the notorious bard. His reputation preceded him, and you couldn't help but be amused. Word on the street was he had a knack for breaking up marriages or being the third person for sleeping with married men's wives. You won't deny it. Jaskier was handsome and quite the romantic.

The atmosphere was serene as if the world had a standstill. Not a sound except for the gentle rustling of leaves as the wind passed through the trees. "Can you sing me a song, Jaskier?" You asked, "Please?"

As Jaskier continued his endless string of tales, you couldn't help but politely express your reluctance to hear more. In response, Jaskier flashed a sweet smile and said, "Yes, you may, Y/n."

One day, Jaskier won't be around you. One day, you won't ever see him again, and it will be just you and Melorax on the lonely road. It could happen tomorrow, or it could be years from now. You tried not to dwell on that possibility, but it was always there lingering at the edges of your consciousness. But that did not matter now. It was a love that grew deep inside you that you have never felt. It's a companionship that was a strange yet familiar feeling. One day, he will see you as a monster like everyone else did when they saw you. Despite this, You listened intently to his stories and musings, even when they seemed nonsensical or meandering. You laughed at his jokes and marveled at his wit. You knew these moments were precious, and you never took them for granted because you will never know when that moment will end.

A/n: hey guys :) I apologize if my interpretation of Jaskier and the Witcher universe had errors. I was busy with school to read the books and watch the show for extra context and accuracy and did this all by itself. Overall, im unite happy with how this turned out.

[redskull199987]

Heyy hii I'm not sure if you're still taking requests, but I'll try my luck. Can you write something about Cahir and the female Witcher reader? Thanks in advance if you write.

If I am being brutally honest, I had a lot of fun writing this. Season three renewed my love for Cahir, so I hope you like this:)))

A Bond

Cahir x female!witcher!reader Request

Word count:0.9k

Warnings:it's all fluffy. I probably got carried away and let my inner Jaskier come out

Summary:You and Cahir had been friends for a long time and as he needs your help, you don 't hesitate to be there for him…

Masterlist

You and Cahir had known each other for a long time. You had met him on your travels through the country, as he was attacked by the beast, you were hunting. He was rude at first, but still thanked you. 

The rest was history.

You started running into him over and over again. To a point where it was inevitable that a friendship would form. With you, Cahir could be himself. He was just a normal Person. No Nilfgaard, no white flame, no war. Nothing of that mattered to you. You were neutral. All you were interested in was his person. And he knew that your interest was genuine. And he let it happen. He let the friendship form and prosper. An unfeigned friendship that connected you. 

And when he was cast out, thrown away by his master, like an old doll he didn't want to play with anymore, Cahir came to you. He found comfort in you. He had been through so much, but for once in his life, he felt safe. At peace. He might even say “Home”.

Of course, he would never tell you that, but it surely was on his mind, everytime, he looked at you. Everytime you returned to his small hut, after finishing a Witcher contract. Bruised and battered, but back with him. And only him. Only Cahir got to see you like this. He took pride in knowing that he was the only person in this world, you would trust this far, besides your brothers maybe.

But you told him that you only saw them once a year, in the winter. You told him stories of Kaer Morhen and how you had grown up there, under Vesemir´s care.

You told him that it was hard for you at first, being the only female Witcher. But it had gotten better, the older you got. The more you learned and saw in this world. You realized that no one really cared, as long as they could use you for their dirty work. 

“How was it?”, Cahir asked, forcing himself to return to the present moment. He had let his thoughts wander, after a pleasant silence rose between you, as he carefully cleaned your wounds.

“It was alright.”, you finally said,”It was a small kikimora. Still young and inexperienced.”

“In fighting?”,Cahir asked, not really knowing a lot about the beasts that your job involved. You had told him some things, but a kikimora was new to him.

 You only smiled at him, before finally answering his question:”No, not in fighting. In killing."

He was quiet for a second, not knowing what to say, upon that statement. But luckily, you just continued recounting what had happened.

“The Monster´s head was worth a lot of coin though. I won't have to leave for at least a month. The money will be enough.”

Cahir smiled at you, glad that he got to spend more time with you.He slowly got up from his place in front of you and sat down beside you on the bed:”Thank you. You don't have to do this. Supporting me in my exile, I mean. But you still do it anyway. And for that I am thanking you.”

“Oh Cahir.”, you smiled, your hand rising to softly caress his face. He closed his eyes, letting himself fall into your gentle touch.

“I would proudly ride into death for you, without hesitation.”, you mumbled, as he opened his eyes. You heard how his heart picked up a beat. How his breath stocked for a second, his eyes lingering on your lips, instead of your yellow orbs, which were intently watching him, awaiting his next move. 

You had often thought about your relationship with him. Often let your mind wander to what ifs.

 What if you were more than just close friends? What if you knew that you wanted to spend the rest of your lives together. Never leaving each other. What if…

“I love you.”

At first you barely heard him. His words were so quiet. His voice shaking and his eyes darting everywhere else, but your face.  He wasn't usually this hesitant. He was an outgoing and stern person. Always sure of himself and his capabilities. He used to be a Nilfgaardian officer after all.

“Cahir.”, you mumbled, after a few seconds of burning silence. He finally looked at you. His expression now a bit more confident. His heartbeat had slowed and he finally dared to look you in the eye.

“I love you, Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach. With all my heart.”, you smiled, your eyes almost glowing with excitement.

Cahir didn't need to hear anything more, before he finally leaned in. Your eyes closed and his lips collided with yours. He was gentle and sweet. Passion laid in his actions. And you knew that he meant every little bit, he had told you.

“I love you.”, he said once again, before slowly pushing you back against the bed. You followed along with his movements, until he was hovering above you.

“I love you.”, you also repeated. You were bare in front of him. Not in a physical way, but emotionally. No one had ever known you as Cahir did. Not even your brothers. He knew your heart and soul. Something that you had shown no one before.

And as he slowly lathered kisses over your body, your moans and whines mixing with his groans. As you fully let him in, you knew that he was the only one  you would ever love this way. He became part of you and you part of him. 

 An unfeigned bond, that was never to be broken again.

[ainoshonen]

little scene bun thought of for a witcher rendition shy wants to write . . . bun plans on calling it "the witcher: wine & white jasmine" or wwawj for short ( maybe )

it was only then when atop his horse he felt a pair of eyes scanning his presence, a pair of eyes that not only surveyed his stature with vigorous intensity, but had done so for half the journey. "i can feel you staring at me, bard." geralt muttered. as much as jaskier wanted to deny his obvious and persistent leering, his mind and pride would not stoop so low as to ditch the dramatics, for his fear of mediocrity had been all the more powerful for the better half of his life. "how could one not notice such a grandiose figure, o white wolf of mine? is it so wrong to admire one's benevolent savior after such a high stakes battle of wit and coordination?" he chimed. geralt let out a hearty and exhausted sigh. "i saved you from a drunken bar fight, jaskier. not a dragon." jaskier chuckled to himself and closed the distance between him and geralt. "oh lighten up! seriously, does your witcher way of life prevent you from having the tiniest bit of fun?" jaskier said, only to be met with a frustrated grunt. geralt hadn't wanted to admit it, but he found the bard's musings amusing, and despite him finding them utterly pointless when not intertwined in a hero's ballad, he found their tantalizing wording and literary competence alluring, and perhaps rather interesting depending on whether or not he wanted to stroke the bard's already monumental ego. "i swear, your ramblings make my head hurt." jaskier scoffed. "are you sure it's me and not that stew you had at the tavern? i distinctly remember telling you that that pork wasn't properly cooked, but what do i know? i'm just the bard." he sneered. geralt found this sudden tone shift peculiar. was jaskier actually mad? or was an act? "you cannot seriously still be hung up on that?" geralt teased. "mock me if you must but melitele be damned, when you're resting at an inn with some sort of foodbourne curse of the stomach, if you think i'll be sympathetic you're sorely mistaken, you insufferable ignoramus!" geralt nearly burst out laughing at this sudden poetic and linguistic outburst. "catty, aren't we, bard?" he chuckled. "up yours." alright, he's definitely not playing. "what's gotten into you?" geralt asked. "nothing." he said through gritted teeth and tense jaw. geralt halts roach and dismounts. "jaskier." he urged firmly, looking jaskier in the eye so the genuine tone would sink in faster, at least that's what he wanted to happen. "i...it's just that you never want to hear me talk. everytime i open my mouth you swear it's equivalent to nails on a chalkboard. you would be upset too if i had such high destain for your voice." sad truth is he wouldn't, but he'd never let jaskier know that. "it's like you said bard. it's just a joke. i've slain monsters who reigned for centuries and you honestly think that i'd let such a scrawny bard tag alongside me if i hated him that much?" jaskier scowled. "watch it." geralt sighed and climbed aboard his steed once more. "you know what i mean, jaskier. i don't hate you, not in the slightest. my jokes aren't that good. i'm sorry." he grumbled. sorry? has the world been flipped upside down? never in his life had jaskier heard geralt say anything remotely similar to sorry. "it's...it's fine, geralt." geralt had apologized, and everything really was fine. perhaps all jaskier ever needed was a sorry. yes, a sorry would make all the difference. sorry will do.

[fandom-junk-drawer]

The Witcher Headcanon - Purring Bonus Scene - Part 1

Just a quick note. I've had a few friends politely point out that I don’t need to censor cuss words. I'm glad that y'all are being helpful and looking out for everyone! Good for you for being kind and thoughtful!

I am aware that censoring is unnecessary, but I have a few reasons why I do:

1. I know there are minors on this site, and they might not be comfortable with cuss words, or maybe someone sees cuss words as NSFW.

2. It's a personal preference. I don't use that type of language IRL. I don't have a problem with other people using it, I just never really liked the way those words "tasted"(It's hard to explain 😅 ), but I want the characters to sound like themselves as much as possible, so censoring is a compromise.

3. It's...funny. For some reason reading a censored word makes it funny to me. Maybe because I hear a "beep", or the dolphin noise from that one SpongeBob episode. I don't know. There's just something about asterisks that makes it funny. I know, I'm weird!

Anyway, enjoy the bonus scene!

Jaskier had fancied himself somewhat of an expert on Witchers after those first few years of travelling with Geralt. He had learned so much about them and had used his power as a bard to change things for them. Thanks to his songs, his stories, and his poetry, people were starting to see Witchers as they really were: Friend Shaped.

He thought he knew everything there was to know about Witchers, but he made an interesting discovery one evening. Something about Witchers that had never been mentioned in the lore, and that no one had ever spoken of.

Geralt had been exhausted when he returned to the inn after dealing with a local monster problem. He had come through with only a few minor scrapes and bruises this time.

The innkeeper had happily given him a tankard of ale and a hot meal while Jaskier entertained the other guests with songs, news, and the latest court gossip. When Geralt was finished with his meal, the innkeeper's wife had a bath sent up to his room, along with fresh linens and extra firewood.

Geralt had been boiling himself in the bath, letting the heat draw out the achces and pains of sore muscles and old injuries, when it happened.

The fire was crackling quietly infront of him. Jaskier was scribbling down ideas for a new song and quietly filling Geralt in on the town gossip. He felt so warm and relaxed. He leaned his head back and...

Jaskier looked up from his writing as he heard Geralt start making a noise. At first he thought it was a 'hmm', or an irritated growl. Geralt was tired, after all, and not very social. He was probably getting tired of the chatter.

But the sound didn't stop like he expected a growl or 'hmm' to. It kept going. It was a soft, undulating sound. Like a gentle bubbling hum. It sounded like a...

Holy f**k! Geralt was purring!

Geralt heard Jaskier's heart suddenly start beating a little faster, and smelled the change in his scent. Surprise/interest/curiosity

Geralt realized he was purring, and immediately stopped, sitting up with an irritated grumble to hide his embarrassment. He hoped like h*ll that the bard somehow hadn't heard.

"Geralt, were you...purring?"

Geralt froze. F**k. He'd heard. He was never going to live it down. Geralt growled at him out of reflex.

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I won't bring it up again."

"I was. What of it, bard?"

"Nothing," Jaskier said almost gently, as if he might scare Geralt away, "I just didn't know you could do that. I didn't mean anything by it. I was just curious if it was a Geralt Thing, or a Witcher Thing."

Geralt side-eyed him suspiciously for a moment, trying to determine if there was any sinister movitves behind the questions. All he could sense was genuine curiosity.

Jaskier knew that Geralt was special. That he had extra mutations that other Witchers didn't have. If he wasn't sure that a behavior, attribute, ability, etc was something all Witchers had, or if it was unique to Geralt, he always asked if it was a Geralt Thing, or a Witcher Thing.

Geralt had sighed quielty and answered that it was a Witcher Thing. All Witchers did it, just not around humans. He could see the bard mentally file the information away. "No songs! I will kill you and dump your carcass in the nearest field!"

"I would never! How dare you even suggest! You wound me, sir! My poor heart is broken! Broken!"

Geralt had rolled his eyes at the drama.

"Listen, I promise I will never, ever write a song about you or any other Witchers purring. Ever."

Geralt didn't seem terribly convinced. Jaskier knew it was going to take something more binding than words to convince Geralt. He was going to have to invoke the most ancient, absolute, and unbreakable ritual of deal-making.

"Geralt, I Pinky Swear!"

The Witcher regarded him silently for a moment, then nodded solemnly. Pinkies were clasped and the deal was made.

Months later, Geralt had long gotten comfortable around Jaskier, and felt safe enough with him that he could allow himself to show his vulnerable side.

Jaskier regularly found himself sitting by their campfire, working on his songs, or falling asleep to the sound of Geralt's purring. He noted that like a cat, when Geralt got comfortable or relaxed enough, he would start to Happy Purr. He'd purr as Jaskier helped work the stiffness out of a sore muscle, or a knot out of his back, or when he'd get all warm and toasty under his blankets when they stayed at an inn.

And when he scratched his chin or cheeks.

Finding out that Witchers loved chin and cheek skritches had been the highlight of Jaskier's day.

Geralt had been grumbling about something or other, like he usually did when he was over-tired and couldn't sleep. Jaskier had sat next to him, and as a joke, started scratching his cheeks.

Geralt had stopped talking, mid-grumble, and his pupils had dilated. He'd visibly relaxed, eyes glazing over, and he'd started purring loudly as Jaskier's fingers scratched through the short stubble on his cheeks. "B**tard..." he'd mumbled almost drunkenly.

Jaskier's fingers faltered in their scratching, He was suddenly worried he'd gone too far with the joke. But Geralt had only leaned into his hands and slurred "I didn' say to stop..." Jaskier smiled to himself and resumed the skritches.

Geralt's eyes had closed and he started purring louder. He started leaning a little harder on Jaskier, starting to fall asleep when the bard started scratching his chin.

Jaskier stopped after a few more moments, not wanting to push his luck, and Geralt had glared at him sleepily. The Witcher looked p*ssed, but Jaskier could tell that he was actually embarrassed that he had almost been put down for a nap by cheek scritches.

"If you ever do that to me in public, or where anyone might see it, I will beat your a**!"

Jaskier had nodded to show that he'd understood. He smiled to himself as Geralt had rolled himself up in his blanket like an angry toddler to hide from Jaskier's knowing smile.

Geralt got a certain amount of smug satisfaction that winter, when Jaskier made it his personal mission to scratch the cheeks and chins of every Witcher at Kaer Morhen. The feral bard somehow survived, and by the end of the first month, Geralt's brothers were arguing over whose turn it was to get cheek or chin scritches.

And once Jaskier started really paying attention to Geralt's purring, he started to notice that he had other types of purrs...

[fangirleaconmigo]

I just read the new chapter of Posada Remix and o genuinely cannot wait to see (if we get to see it at all) how Netflix Geralt reacts to having seen that desperation from Jaskier. Part of me hopes he will be hurt by it, like, after witnessing Jaskier so desperately trying to stay there, trying to get away from *him*, to stay with *his* Geralt. Well, let's just say i REALLY want to get his two cents on the matter. I really want to put them in situations but I also really want them to get out of them... mostly happy.

Asjkdhdudjdsjs I really enjoy Posada Remix, thank you for writing it :)

Thank you Nonny! Can I tell you how anxious I am to post my updates for Posada Remix? I've invested so much time into it, and so many people (to me anyway!) are reading it, so I'm always so worried about fucking it up. But all I can do is put my all into it and hope.

So just the fact that you are that emotionally invested makes me feel very relieved.

And when I was writing Jaskier's emotional breakdown there, I was picturing both Geralts' responses to it. For example, both Geralts have extra powerful witcher hearing. So Netflix Geralt HAD to have heard the conversation of 'i broke you', KNOWING that those were HIS words, that HE caused that doubt and pain.

And then to see Jaskier be so desperate to go with Book!Geralt...if you're Netflix Geralt...wow...you can read that as, 'he doesn't want to go with me this badly'.

It's a lot. Even when the 'camera' isn't on him, you can be sure that he's going through it.

But this is what it takes I think to have character development. You have to experience things you never understood were possible to see things in new ways.

And they will all get out of it, but we probably have a chapter or two left of pain. I'll be adding two more chapters to the count. You heard that here first.

[tathrin]

since you're a huge LOTR fan, I wonder if you've heard about the new LOTR MTG set and if so what you think of it. As an MTG fan who never got into the books or movies, I love it

Oh my gods HAVE I?!!! (The answer is extremely yes.) I work at a comic book store, and we carry Magic cards, so it's going to be quite a struggle for me to be surrounded by them and not purchase any, despite the fact that I've never played MTG and have absolutely no prospects of playing it either. (Although I did play the knock-off LotR Magic-ish card game that came out back when the movies did and loved it, tbf.)

My thoughts are: I freaking LOVE the parts of it that are awesome, such as of course the most awesome of all:

AHHHHH that's so good I want it as a painting ahhhhhhhh!

Look at him, look at his sword, he's amazing it's immaculate:

AMAZING I SAY!!!

But the problem with the amazing parts? Is that they make the lackluster parts stand-out all the more.

And unfortunately a lot of it is lackluster. Not bad; just...mediocre. Admittedly perhaps my expectations got WAY too high when I saw the wedding card first, but...well, what can I say? That's the first thing I saw, and it was FUCKING AMAZING, so my expectations were raised way too high for most of the rest of the perfectly-serviceable-but-not-novel-or-exciting images to measure up to.

And then there are a few that are downright bad.

Like Legolas, who is inexplicably wearing Last Alliance-ish plate armor? Despite being explicitly described as not wearing armor, except for when he borrows mail from the Rohirrim?

Yeah. That's not a Wood-elf from Mirkwood, buddy, that's just a Generic High Fantasy Elf. At best he could be Elladan or Elrohir I guess, but Legolas? Legolas of Mirkwood? Yeah, no.

(Also if we're going for diverse LotR designs, why is it that all the elves still seem to be white? *All the elves I've seen so far. Hopefully this will change as more cards get revealed. I'm perfectly happy with Arwen the way she is in the above image, for the record; she's described as being pale and dark-haired and she looks exquisite up there. 10/10 on the Wedding Card, no notes! But I'm hoping that this isn't going to end up being a case where the "immortal, wisest, and fairest of all beings" species remains wholly white because that's...not great.)

Anyway most of the other cards I've seen look fine, but no better than fine; very much Standard Generic Designs. Less disappointing than the bizarre design for Legolas up there, but nowhere near even half as awesome as Aragorn and Arwen.

And then...well. What is this supposed to be?

Jaskier and Daenerys, maybe? wtf? I genuinely didn't even know who they were until I saw the caption with their names, that's how bad this design is. Why have they turned Faramir into some little bland doofus boy? How the fuck is their hair supposed to mingle in the wind when his is so short? He looks like a child, and there is not a single muscle in her arm, she looks like an airbrushed barbie. For that matter, where is the splint and bandage on her arm? Her left arm? That arm is broken what are you doing? Did you miss that bit with the Witch King??? Was this one even painted by someone who read the book, or is it maybe an image that was done for something totally different that they just went "ehh good enough" and slapped it into this deck instead of making something new and specific for these two? I am SO disgruntled.

That's the worst of them that I've seen so far, thankfully. But you have to admit that it is pretty bad, I think.

So, in summation: I'm still overall excited (admittedly this is bolstered in part just because racists are hella mad about it, and that always makes me happy) but I really wish that they had put the same level of care and attention into the design of all of it that they did in a few of the more stand-out pieces.

Because I probably won't end up buying any of it, unless as more cards get revealed the ratio between awesome-and-blah changes significantly. Because the ones that are good are very very good but the rest of them are just...meh.

And that's so disappointing when they could all be awesome.

[hudine]

First chapter of a crossover fic that came to mind after talking to a new friend who likes writing crossovers. Something I also always find to be fun. So this is an unholy fusion of Netflix Witcher and Doctor Who. WIP first draft of an idea and the first chapter. Even though I should be finishing my Doctor Who fic Sideways Parenthood… will get back there eventually. Is some references to it here briefly but don’t need to have read any to follow along. Working title is currently Free Bird

-x-x-x-

Geralt had just said yes to Borch about going on the dragon hunt and was watching Yennefer at the bar. Jaskier had been grumbling to himself but suddenly stood up knocking his chair over and pointed at someone new who just walked into the tavern and yelled out in the most angry voice Geralt had ever heard come from the bard, “You!”

The man he yelled at froze. He was near the same hight as the bard and build, had the same blue eyes and hair colour, but that’s where similarities ended other than the predilection to dress weirdly. He was older than Jaskier, his face was shaped differently, hair was cut another way and what he wore was more like a military uniform than bard clothing, with a strange grey military long coat that belonged to no military on the continent. The man held his hands out in a warding off gesture as the bard approached and said, “Jaskier! It’s great to see you again!”

“Captain Jack Harkness! What did I tell you I’d do if I ever see you again?” Jaskier asked as he poked him in the chest.

“I’m not sure I quite caught all of it… it did involve my balls and a cheese grater… or was that that friend of yours, Pricilla, and you were the one that said you’d stick my head in a wine press?”

“Give me one good reason I don’t kill you where you stand!” Jaskier snarled.

“I didn’t know the artefact would do that! And solved the time loop problem, everything put back to normal.”

“After getting me and my friends stuck reliving the same day over and over for how long exactly? No, really? How long? I genuinely lost count sometime after loop number eight hundred. Wouldn’t have even been that bad if it didn’t always end with Pricilla dying every time but the last one! I had to watch my friend die, over, and over, and over again, with no one other than the three of us and Valdo Fucking Marx able to remember it,” Jaskier ranted.

“Jaskier,” the man tried to say but got interrupted by the bard.

“All because you had to have a cover and a way in to get into Countess deSteele’s vault. Then I drink admittedly too much and run into that idiot over there,” Jaskier points at Geralt this time, “trying to wish away all his problems with a djinn of all the crazy shit to do. Just because he is running away from his aforementioned problems as usual. Then almost gets me killed.”

“He takes me to her,” the bard points at Yennefer who was now standing beside Geralt watching the spectacle, “who was good enough to get rid of the djinn’s spell. Thank you by the way Yennefer because quite frankly death via asphyxiation is my least favourite way to die that doesn’t involve dismemberment. Only for her to go and try to capture the djinn herself by becoming its vessel… Just be glad that didn’t work out by the way… saw someone do that once, it was not pretty…. They exploded like a bladder filled with really chunky soup all because they used that spell you tired. You never want to do that by the way. The elder was transcribed wrong and djinn being the masters of loopholes that they are… well… like I said… really chunky soup.”

Jaskier paces as he gets fully into his rant. “Then those two have been hooking up ever since. I mean Geralt can fuck whoever else he wants. We’ve never even pretended to be monogamous, but it’s obvious the djinn did something to both of them. It makes them get so wrapped up in each other they don’t notice a damn thing else going on until they fuck. Seriously they didn’t even notice an entire house almost falling down around them. I have a little issue with consent and how much I really believe people should consent to things. I’m not entirely sure how much either of them actually are consenting to it all, and how much is the spell making them think they are.”

“Bad time, huh?” Jack asked.

Jaskier took a deep breath to calm himself and asked in turn, “What do you want Dad?”

Geralt and Yennefer looked at each other confused and mouthed, ‘Dad?’

“We need to leave, they found us,” Jack replied without missing a beat.

“What? How? We picked this backwater planet, devoid of nearby heavily trafficked space lanes, in the ass end of nowhere on the edge of a not so well populated galaxy in order to hide. I’ve spent the last three hundred years without indoor plumbing on this technologically back slidden world. We’re only about two steps up from hiding with my great uncle Brax on Legion! And in the wrong fucking universe!”

“Three hundred years?” Geralt asked without thinking.

“Seriously Geralt, for a really smart man and a Witcher you can be really fucking unobservant at times,” Jaskier sighed, “just look at me Geralt. Really look at me. Have I aged a day since you first met me over two decades ago now?”

“Actually now you mention it… but I’ve always known you’re not entirely human. The second heartbeat gives it away.”

Jaskier puts his head in his hands and makes a frustrated groaning noise. “Fuck. I now owe Vesemir three hundred crowns. He bet you wouldn’t say or notice anything about it until I said something first. Fools bet really. That man knows his pups.”

“Ok. I’m not going to get into how you know Vesemir or bets. What are you? I never could figure that one out,” Geralt asked.

“Time Lord. Just a bit over half human and the rest gallifreyan. You see he,” Jaskier pointed at Jack, “fucked one of his best friend’s daughters, and I was the result. Which was a surprise since gallifreyan women are supposed to be sterile”

“It really sounds worse than it actually was when you put it like that,” Jack complained, “I didn’t even know she was related to the Doctor at the time, yet alone she’s his long lost daughter from back on Gallifrey. Heck I thought Gallifrey and the Time Lords where all destroyed in the time war.”

“Yea well I inherited Dad’s gift… or curse… of immortality. We don’t know how. Just that I literally can’t stay dead. Same with him but we know why he is like he is. A goddess of time liked him too much and decided she wanted him to live… she just was new to the whole goddess thing and brought him back permanently. Time Lords are happy enough with that explanation… what they aren’t is why I am the same way. So we’re now on the run from the Time Lords because they want to cut me into lil biddy pieces to see how I tick and I’ll be alive during the whole thing and experiencing it.”

“What’s a gallifreyan or a time lord?” Yennefer asked this time.

“Just another species like humans, elves, dwarfs, and so on. Just not one you’d typically find on this planet or sphere as you say here. Time Lords are pretty much all Gallifreyan but not all Gallifreyans are Time Lords. Time Lords are a bit like Witchers in a way. We’re made not born. Taken from our families at a young age, normally eight, exposed to secret ways of mutating the body. No one I’m aware of has died from the process but not all make it through with their minds intact.”

“That explains a lot about you then,” Yennefer quipped.

Jaskier ignored her and continued, “Then we go to the Time Lord Academy for about a hundred years where we learn a lot of academic stuff, not just how to control our mutations. I’m not a typical time lord. Time lords have this thing they can do twelve times if they’re dying where they can repair every cell in the body but it is uncontrollable and makes us change, new body, new face, new everything. We become a different person in a way. All the major stuff about us is the same, but we tend to get new personality traits here and there. That’s a normal time lord. I’m not normal.”

“Nothing new there,” Geralt said with a smirk.

“I, much like my grandfather before me, take great pride in embracing being a weirdo. Thank you very much. Anyway as I was saying I’m different from the other time lords because I have died so many times and in so many ways now I’ve genuinely lost count. I’ve never regenerated, just came back to life. If I’m in pieces when I die I do a mixture of regrow new ones and my old ones reattach and it’s like nothing ever happened. Not even a mark. Which is why a secret society within the time lords want to experiment on me.”

Jaskier walks over to Geralt and surprises him by pulling him into a passionate kiss in front of everyone then said, “I’m going to miss you the most.”

“Jaskier?” He asks questioningly.

Jaskier ignored him and actually surprised Yennefer this time by hugging her. “Look after him Witch.”

“We need to get a move on. Reading a Gallifreyan life sign headed this way,” Jack interrupted looking at the scanner on the vortex manipulator around his wrist.

“Do you know who?” Jaskier asked as he looked over at Jack.

“No. Never stuck around to check. The proximity alarm went off to say they where on the on the planet and came right here. Better do your thing and we get out of here.”

“Already have, no one will remember anything we said except for Geralt, Yennefer, and Borch over there.”

“Not wanting to take the time to break the mental shielding of a sorceress and a Witcher to wipe memories I get… But the old short guy? Really?”

“Oh that’s right, you’ve never met Villentretenmerth before. You weren’t on that little misadventure. I’d introduce you properly but we need to go. Sorry I won’t get to write a song about your grand adventure Vill. Although why a dragon wants to go on a dragon hunt I have no idea.”

“My mate is injured, our egg is in danger and cannot be moved yet.”

Jaskier sighed and shook his head. “Why didn’t you just say so in the first place?”

“Didn’t want to blow your cover. You do play the part of the harmless and hapless bard very well after all,” Borch replied.

“We can’t leave Dad,” the seemingly harmless and hapless bard said to his father.

“Time Lords coming right this way. They’re outside,” Jack reminded.

“It’s ok. I picked up their telepathic signature now. False alarm. It’s just—“

A man with flyaway brown hair in a blue pinstriped suit walked into the tavern with a blond woman. He stopped dead in his tracks and looked curiously at them. “Jack?”

“Doctor? What are you doing here? This thing must be on the fritz. It’s never been the same since you scrambled it with your sonic screwdriver.”

“Jack!” The blond woman exclaimed and ran over and they hugged enthusiastically.

“Rosie!”

“Jack!” The metacrisis Doctor warned.

“I’m just saying hello,” Jack replied without missing a beat with the old familiar argument.

“You never just say hello Dad,” Jaskier replied rolling his eyes, “He’s worse than I am and that’s saying something,” he added in aside to Geralt and Yennefer. “So turns out it’s a false alarm and I don’t have to scramble to get off this planet as soon as possible. It’s only my grandfather… sort of… Anyway any chance I can get either of you to forget everything I said because I would have regretted leaving without telling you?”

“Not a chance bard,” Yennefer replied smirking.

“Wait… Dad…” the Doctor trailed off looking over Jaskier and really looking at that with what senses he had left to him because of the metacrisis. “You’re a Time Lord, and you’re related to me…. And apparently Jack?”

“How much does your other body pickup from the other universe?” Jaskier asked, “It’s just some of it could be universe endingly bad if he knew at this point in your timeline.”

“Not much now. We get impressions of what each other is doing but not what exactly what unless we both concentrate really hard when both of us are at a weak point between universes. So we gone from being the same person in two different bodies at the same time pretty much, to being connected individuals. Nothing you tell me will get back to him,” the Doctor answered.

“Gallifrey stands.”

“What?”

“Yea you pretty much used the moment to move Gallifrey into a pocket dimension and the Dalek’s destroyed themselves when trying to fire on a planet that was no longer there and made it look like Gallifrey was destroyed.”

“What?”

“But you already knew that didn’t you Rose?” Jaskier asked.

“What?” The Doctor asked again looking at Rose this time.

“It’s not like I could tell him. Like you said the universe could have exploded from the giant paradox that would have created if he knew too soon. Especially bad since I’m a giant walking paradox as it is. I only exist because of bad wolf. In all the realities I went through to find the Doctor there wasn’t another Rose Tyler for that reason. It was better to just play stupid and pretend I didn’t remember bad wolf, or the moment, or any of it.”

“You where there…on Gallifrey… you brought me to see my future… It wasn’t a projection was it? It was actually you. Bad Wolf. You said you ended the time war but you didn’t mean the Daleks on the game station…” the Doctor started remembering.

“Like I would ever let you kill so many innocents when there was another way,” Rose added. “I hated every moment of letting you think you had.”

The Doctor’s head was spinning with the new information. “You still have access to that power don’t you?”

“Some. No where near as much as when I was acting as the moment. Can’t do anything a time lord can’t do. Sorry Jack about the whole immortality thing. I can’t actually fix it.”

“What about him,” Jack asked pointing to Jaskier. “He’s my son. I’ve had children since the whole immortality thing started but he’s the only one that inherited it from me.”

“I really don’t know,” Rose replied.

“I don’t know either. It really shouldn’t be possible Jack,” The Doctor added then turned to Jaskier, “Now how are you related to me?”

“I’m your grandson. Or will be. Depends on your perspective I suppose. I’m pretty much an accident, your son who just regenerated and became your daughter at the time got curious about what sex is like as a woman. Susan is my older sister if you’re wondering which of your kids.”

“I swear I didn’t know she was related to you!” Jack exclaimed with his hands out in a defensive posture.

The Doctor just deflated and sighed. “I really should be surprised, but I’m not.”

“Ok be careful what you say, people are going to notice soon and some of them really aren’t the people we want knowing anything,” Jaskier said holding his hand up and levelled a glare at his grandfather, “That includes you. Some of us don’t want to pick up and leave sooner than they have to.”

“Mass hypnosis to make them forget? Not very ethical,” the Doctor replies with a raised eyebrow but just sits beside Borch.

“Literally all I did was make people forget about a conversation on what to most of these people is a boring Tuesday. Besides. You’re going to lecture me about ethics? You? Try that on someone who doesn’t actually know you granddad.” Jaskier replied and took a seat beside the Doctor. “I’ve kidnapped my granddaughter’s school teachers for example.”

“You don’t have grandchildren,” Jack pointed out as he took a seat as well.

“Not the point,” Jaskier shot back.

“I panicked!” The Doctor defended. “I hadn’t been off of Gallifrey for long then. I hadn’t quite worked out yet that no one is going to take notice of two humans claiming to have followed a student into a police box and it turned out to be bigger on the inside. Now I know that if I leave a bloody big blue box in the middle of somewhere obvious that it shouldn’t be at, no one even notices. I swear most of the time it’s not even the perception filter, people just can be that stupid at times.”

“Susan still talks fondly of Ian and Barbra though,” Jaskier added shaking his head and laughing.

“I thought you where her at first. Picked up on the telepathic signature soon as I arrived. Wasn’t until I saw you I picked up the supple differences.”

“I get that a lot from people that know her. She used to volunteer to babysit me when I was a kid. Practically raised me before I went to the academy. Sorry to say I haven’t seen my sister since before I escaped from the division three hundred years ago now. I can tell you she made it out the other side of the time war though. All your kids have except for Zaiden, yet I’ve met an alternate version of him. He’s running around with an alternate version of you, Narvin and Rose.”

“Narvin?! Celestial Interventions Agency Coordinator Narvin? Really?! What is any version of Zaiden doing with the CIA?” The Doctor asked perplexed.

“He was in it. Apparently he joined just to spite both you and your father. Besides Narvin’s not so bad. You and him aren’t actually all that different, especially after the war. There’s a lot of stuff he’s not as comfortable with that he once was. Narvin helped me escape the division, had access to the axis to get me out of that universe, and had access to a TARDIS that will work in most of the multiverse. If it wasn’t for him and Great Uncle Braxiatel I’d still be being cut into little pieces to see how I work and if they can replicate it.”

“That’s the second time you mentioned the division, who, what?”

“A secret society within the time lords that’s older than the time lords themselves. They claim to have discovered the secret to regeneration, yahdee yahdee yahdah… Did they really? I got no idea. Let’s just say they’re crazier than Rassilon, well not surprising, he was one of them. Anyway they’re a bunch of crazy time lords who want to experiment on me. I’m hiding on this planet because of all the natural rift energy should cover me on any scans they do to look for me, and we where very panicked a little while ago because Dad thought you where one of them.”

“He’s supposed to be one of the exclusions on the scanner. Must be the metacrisis messing it up. What brings you here anyway Doctor? I thought you had been stranded on Earth.”

“Grew a new TARDIS out of a bit of the old one. She’s still got a lot of growing to do so we came here because of all the rift energies. I’ve never seen anything quite like it. I don’t know how this universe yet alone this planet is in one piece.”

“I don’t know what happened but probably ripples from the time war. They call it the conjunction of the spheres. The whole planet is covered in scars from it. Something happened that brought a lot of different people from different races here. I don’t think they all came from this universe, and certainly not all from the same time period. There’s examples all over the place of it,” Jaskier explained.

“I only understand about a third of what they’re talking about,” Geralt said in aside to Yennefer.

Overhearing, Rose replies to them, “I only ever understand about half of what comes out of the Doctor’s mouth on a good day. I find it easier to just nod and take in what’s going on around us. I swear for someone really smart and observant he has a tendency to miss the obvious sometimes.”

“Jaskier has a tendency to play dumb but is actually one of the smartest people I know. He also notices everything. Unless it’s something like a horse about to run him over because he’s too busy composing something in his note book to look where he’s going.”

Rose groans and makes an exasperated gesture, “That’s exactly what I am talking about! The Doctor does that sort of thing all the bloody time. Your friend is definitely his grandson then. Why couldn’t he inherit some of your common sense Jack?”

“Common sense? Me? We met because I was a conman who was too stupid to think that just maybe an ambulance from an advanced civilisation might contain medical equipment on the subatomic level so of course I won’t be able to see it. I even had nanogenes in the ship I was using from the same civilisation and time period.”

They all talked amongst themselves for a while before Jaskier started playing as he’d arranged to earlier with the tavern owner. He did a number of the ones he was famous for including much to Geralt’s annoyance ‘Toss a coin’.

After a while just to be obnoxious Jack called out, “Free bird!”

“You can’t play that one on a lute Jack,” The Doctor replied.

Jaskier took that as a challenge. It sounded a little weird but he actually managed to do a passably recognisable version of the opening cords without the metal sound and started to sing.

If I leave here tomorrow,

Would you still remember me?

For I must be traveling on now,

'Cause there's too many places I've got to see,

But if I stay here with you, girl,

Things just couldn't be the same,

'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,

And this bird you cannot change,

Oh, oh, oh, oh,

And the bird you cannot change,

And this bird, you cannot change,

Lord knows, I can't change,

Bye-bye baby, it's been sweet love, yeah, yeah,

Though this feelin' I can't change,

But please don't take it so badly,

'Cause Lord knows, I'm to blame,

But if I stay here with you, girl,

Things just couldn't be the same,

'Cause I'm as free as a bird now,

And this bird you cannot change,

Oh, oh, oh, oh,

And the bird you cannot change,

And this bird, you cannot change,

Lord knows, I can't change,

Lord help me, I can't change,

Lord, I can't change,

Won't you fly high, free bird, yeah.

He finished without the solo metal part at end became they’re really is only so much he can do with strings made from gut, and even he knows when to admit defeat. He bowed at the claps he got from the three people in the room who actually knew what that song was supposed to sound like, and a few others who seemed to like the song. “You’re right, that really does need metal strings to sound right.”

And so the night went on with The Doctor, Rose and Jack challenging him to convert rock songs to play on the lute.

Later that night Jaskier was surprised when Geralt joined him in bed in the room he’d earned them with his performance. He’d expected him to forget all about him as usual and go off with Yennefer wherever. He was even more surprised but presently so that he was being very affectionate with him.

“Not that I’m complaining, but any particular reason you’re so determined to kiss every inch of exposed skin I have?”

“There’s a few inches of skin not so exposed right now I’d also like to get my lips on,” Geralt replied giving a feral grin as he smelled the spike in Jaskier’s arousal. “You’re normally horny after a rowdy performance like that one. You didn’t disappear off with anyone so I thought I’d help you out.”

“What about Yennefer?” Jaskier couldn’t help asking.

“Well if you really want to I could probably talk her into joining us, but I rather like having you all to myself right now,” Geralt said only half joking and started sucking on his neck causing Jaskier to moan.

“Not what I’m talking about. Normally you’d be in bed with her by now.”

“I’m not good with words,” Geralt said being serious now. “I’m trying to do better by you Jask. You almost left today, and for good. Not just a few weeks or months but gone forever. It hit me if you left here tomorrow like that song you sang, I’d not only remember you I’d be devastated. I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“‘But if I stay here with you, things just could be the same, cause I’m free as a bird now, and this bird cannot change,’” Jaskier quoted. “There’s truth in that too. I’ve loved being Jaskier the bard. The problem is I don’t age. People assume I got some elder blood in me and don’t make much of it lots of people do. Even then though there’s only so long I can keep up the rues before I need to move on. I love you Geralt and I’ve stayed so long already because I needed to be near you. Pathetic I know.”

“Then I’ll go with you,” Geralt stated. “And you’re not pathetic.”

That caught Jaskier by surprise and he gasped running a hand over the Witcher’s face. “You come with me?”

“You’ve followed me around for over twenty years now. Maybe it’s time I followed you for a change.”

“You’d do that?”

“Yes,” Geralt replied running a hand through the bard’s hair.

“What about the path, and you’re tied to Yennefer by destiny and all that.”

“I love you and I know it’s not some damned wish from a djinn causing it all. You had a point earlier when you said you didn’t know just how much either of us are consenting to it all. Truth is when she’s not around I barely think about her then I see her and it’s like some sort of spell comes over me and she’s all I think about. When you’re not around I’m thinking about you constantly. Just ask any of my brothers they complain about me moping every winter.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me,” Jaskier added.

“There’s a lot you don’t know about me too. You may have hidden your identity but not the small things about you. I know you have cold feet in the mornings, hog the blankets, but always end up cuddling during the night. You prefer to drink wine over ale and like things spiced with ginger. FYou hate geese but love pretty much all other animals. You spoil Roach rotten with treats. You once made a pet of a mouse you found with its leg stuck in a trap because it refused to leave after you nursed it back to health. His name was Sir Nicholas de Mimsy-Porpington, you called him ‘Nearly Legless Nick’ for some reason, and he lived in your pocket. Those things and twenty years worth of getting to know you like that isn’t made up. But I’d like to get to know the rest.”

“Fine. Run away with me for once. After we help Borch, and stop whatever ill advised plan Yennefer is concocting. Maybe we should kidnap her and take her with us when we run away. She needs protecting from herself. If you had to bind yourself to a sorceress at least you picked an interesting one.”

“That’s enough about Yen. I believe we where in the middle of something that most definitely doesn’t involve her,” Geralt replied before kissing Jaskier.

[rocknrollpanda]

I posted 208 times in 2022

8 posts created (4%)

200 posts reblogged (96%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@maddie-w-draws

@michelledixart

@inexplicifics

@rocknrollphanda

@brighteyedjill

I tagged 208 of my posts in 2022

#the witcher - 73 posts

#our flag means death - 57 posts

#ofmd - 39 posts

#jaskier - 34 posts

#stede bonnet - 30 posts

#geralt of rivia - 28 posts

#xd - 23 posts

#blackbeard - 22 posts

#maddie-w-draws - 19 posts

#maddie w draws - 19 posts

Longest Tag: 127 characters

#i think the armor looks like someone in the wardrobe department on set was hit in the head and came up with it in a fever dream

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The demonic Goatman Bridge | BuzzFeed Unsolved ANIMATED

3 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

#4

See the full post

4 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

#3

Buzzfeed Unsolved || Animatic

4 notes - Posted January 31, 2022

#2

'Mansfield Park' Jane Austen

Świat Książki seria Angielski Ogród wydana w 2015

6 notes - Posted June 20, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

Sense and Sensibility 'what if?'

@bethanydelleman I hope you don't mind me tagging you in this post.

I wanted to have a bit of 'what if' conversation about S&S, mostly because this idea rooted itself in my brain and won't leave.

What if love interests were in fact a little different in this book? To be precise what if Colonel Brandon found himself interested in Mrs. Dashwood? Maybe it was her he heard playing the piano (let's be honest Mrs Jenkins is more than capable of talking her into performing music), or maybe they connected talking about less than ideal life circumstances. Colonel is about 36 in the book and Mrs. Dashwood is 40. He is much closer to her age than to Marianne's, and I think it would be a good thing. She would be his partner and his equal in everything. I think she is just as disillusioned with life as he is, even if at first glance it would seem she shares Marianne's love for romance and light-heartedness. She had to live through loosing her home, house and status, because her husband's son (a man she most likely raised when he was a boy, on who's wedding she was sitting along with his father) proved he didn't care about his family even a fraction as much as he cared about money and pleasing his greedy wife. I feel like these two would be able to find love, balance, understanding and unwavering support in each other. And maybe even a firy romance, because why not.

And what if at that point Eliza haven't yet made her disastrous escape with Willoughby? By marrying Colonel Brandon and Mrs Dashwood would be able to provide a stable and safe home for FOUR girls. Eliza is Brandon's ward but at no point was she living with him. I think there are a lot of reasons at play here one being obviously the fact she is an illegitimate child born to a disgraced mother, two there never was a woman able to care and bring up a girl child in Delaford. Since Eliza's heritage isn't widely know (all people have are indistinct rumors) I think Colonel could bring her home, claim she was a daughter of his cousin and more importantly under his protection. She is an educated young woman, beautiful (why do you think Willoughby secuced her), with a dowary (if Colonel provides it, which I think he could for all 4 of them) and society is willing to forgive a lot if you posses those atributes. Maybe she would have a chance of a better life, one her mother never had for herself.

I also think Marianne and Eliza would get on like a house on fire.

Plus can you imagine the face of Mrs Henry Dashwood when she hears the news? I think she might genuinely have an anurism.

31 notes - Posted October 2, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[stellanimarum]

viscountbard​:

𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 , 𝐡𝐨𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐥𝐲 , 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐥𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐡𝐞'𝐝 𝐛𝐞 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧. but isn’t life funny in that way? people part , find each other again , husbands die untimely and tragic deaths that result in the order for his death being dissolved , that sort of thing. and so jaskier would like to pretend he stands before her humble and unassuming , but well … why else would he have returned?

confident stride comes to a waver as he watches her gracefully contend with the grand staircase , starry eyed already. whatever he’d told himself about no lover being worth risking his life firmly flies out of the window , and lashes flutter as he tries to remember any semblance of the common tongue. ’ annarietta! uh , y —- yes. if you’ll have me , of course. i’d hate to impose , your grace. ’

oh , he’ll be staying. a while , hopefully. thank the gods that she’s only grown more beautiful since they last saw each other. though , maybe she was blurry at the time , he was running rather fast. a quick glance about at the ducal guard that flank him still , and jaskier tries to think of a diplomatic way to say that he’d been rather delighted to hear her husband had died. ’ i , well …. i heard that a tragedy had befallen you. and so , i think that one should always be surrounded by good friends in times of such hardship. ’ nicely done , bard. @stellanimarum

As Jaskier stood before her, Anna Henrietta felt a mixture of surprise and delight. The Viscount, whom she had thought was gone for good, now stood there before her, seeking refuge in her duchy once again. She listened to his words, a hopeful smile gracing her lips as she took in the sincerity behind his keenness to stay.

"You are most welcome in Beauclair. Your presence is a gift to our land, and we would be honored if you chose to grace us with your company for as long as you desire." She replied, it was up to her to be able to decide that now after all. She did not grieve her husband one bit but that would not be becoming to admit. 

As he mentioned the need for good friends in times of hardship, a genuine smile appeared on her face. "Your words ring true,  And know that you have not returned to a land devoid of friends. Toussaint welcomes you back with open arms." In that moment, Anna felt a longing to rekindle the connection they had once shared. Her heart yearned for his companionship, the easy banter, and the laughter they had once shared. Thoughts of her station were more or less disregarded, she just wanted to be selfish for a while. 

@viscountbard gets a starter - Anna Henrietta

Viscount was the last person that she expected to see back in Toussaint. After the last time resulted in him fleeing from the wrath of now late husband. She had been so relieved to hear of him getting out alive. Her Knights had informed her ladies of their return with him and she of course demanded an audience right away. The Duquesa was not the most patient of people when it all came to it. Spoiled some may say though quietly, to few selective people for fear of it reaching the Duchess and her short temper. Anna descended the grand staircase, her gown flowing elegantly around her. Her eyes were locked on Jaskier as he arrived with her knights.

"Viscount Julian? I did not expect to see you in Beauclair once more. You are to stay a while yes?" She spoke hopeful yet regal in her tone. She wished it to be so. "Though I suspect I should also be asking you, why you are here?" A part of her was hopeful it was for her though it had been years since then.

[cas-kingdom]

“For the first time in my life, I genuinely want to throw my lute in the ocean” (me hinting at the witcher lmao I’m sorry I just miss akela)

Find the OC version of this fic here.

"For the first time in my life, I genuinely want to throw my lute in the ocean.”

Geralt hummed as he tossed the fish net in the water. “Do our future selves a favour and don’t pass yourself up on that.”

“I mean, do you hear that noise?” Jaskier whispered harshly so you couldn’t hear, as though that was at all possible with the caterwauling sound you were pulling from his lute behind them. “My beautiful, beautiful instrument sounds like a shrieking cat.” He turned when a particularly grinding twang sounded, his mouth dropping open as you seemed to ponder over what went wrong before evidently giving up and returning to your...music.

“Gods,” Jaskier said more to himself than anyone, “that girl is tone deaf.”

You, who had been sat cross-legged on the ground for the past half hour, strummed some deplorable tune on Jaskier’s lute that you seemed to think was ethereal. It was, in fact, anything other than that. Jaskier had never heard such an ear-splitting sound, and it pained him to see this heinous crime undertaken on his most beloved possession.

“Don’t I sound good, Jaskier?” you called, pausing your strumming for a second to shoot him a wide grin. “I could be a bard, too! We can travel together!”

Jaskier was remarkably lost for words for a mere ten seconds. He sucked in a deep breath before forcing the biggest smile he could, tossing his hands up in the air for emphasis. “That’s an absolutely—brilliant idea, Y/N!”

He could see the excited twinkle in your eye even from where he was standing, and he felt his inner walls crumble at the sight of it. He loved you to absolute pieces, but in this moment, as you returned to your playing, the notes emanating from his lute not even accounting to music, he was very pleased to return to his earlier statement. 

“Ocean,” he said as he returned to Geralt. “Now.”

Geralt chuckled under his breath, drawing in the fish net as he shook his head. “You really don’t know?”

“Know what—oh, look what she’s doing! Y/N, Y/N—don’t press hard on the strings, they’re delicate.”

Geralt put his hands on his hips, glancing between his sneaky child and the oblivious bard. “She’s doing it on purpose, Jaskier.”

Jaskier paused. “Sorry?”

“She knows she’s shit. She also knows how to press all the right buttons on you. I would get the infuriating thing back now before she snaps the strings.”

The silence that ensued after that revelation was a blessing, though it didn’t last long.

Witcher Masterpost

send me the first sentence of a fanfic and i’ll write the next five, except i don’t know when to stop writing so i guarantee there’ll be more than five

[cherryjuicegf]

if i say

for @witcher-bows-and-arrows day 9: confession || geraskier, T, sickfic, hurt/comfort [ao3]

A drop of sweat flows down Jaskier's temple and gets lost in his hair.

The room is suffocating, empty, and Geralt wonders if it's the silence or the sickening scent of illness and sweat that has crawled in every corner of the walls, under every plank of the floor, so that even with the windows open it won't go away. He can't keep them open for too long anyway. It's freezing outside.

Jaskier is trembling.

There's a helplessness in the realization that Geralt has gotten used to it, that he doesn't even flinch and check his temperature now every time he watches the bundle of blankets shake and thrash. Even that frown between Jaskier's eyebrows, marking a restless sleep, has already shattered his heart over and over again as it deepens, so that no spare pieces are left. He knows. No matter how many times he checks, he knows. Jaskier is burning.

And gods, it was only a bit of rain. Don't fret, the healer had said, he'll be fine. He'll be fine. And yet the medicine waiting on the bottle beside him is halfway empty and the fever hasn't dropped.

If he's to grow desperate, Geralt would say it's gotten worse.

Jaskier has been sleeping too long.

Has the weather gone cold already?

The sun is burning, Jaskier.

As though out of habit, he raises his hand and touches the bard's neck, hopeful only for a moment, until he feels the heat again and the wetness of his skin, until he sees how his cheeks have gone red. He would find it beautiful in any other case.

Don't change the compress yet, he thinks, it's only been minutes. It feels like centuries. He hasn't been doing anything else anyway.

There's a weight in his shoulders as though the worry and the two sleepless nights are taking turns to pull him down.

Then, a whine. "Geralt..."

He starts, raises his head. A pair of blue eyes, glazed over and red with fever, staring at him, unfocused. He wants to laugh and he would because oh, he'd missed their gaze so much. But he knows, remembers the lethargy and the broken stutters that escaped the bard's lips now and then, and some of them he heard, some of them he didn't dare to. He remembers. And he doesn't laugh.

Instead, he scoots his chair closer and smiles. "I'm here, Jaskier, what do you need?" He thinks, maybe the smile is more for himself to gain courage, but his lips are sore.

Jaskier doesn't answer the question. Instead, he draws his arm from under the blankets and searches for Geralt's hand almost blindly, until he finds it. His grip is so weak Geralt wants to cry. Then, again, his eyes. Big and blue and terrified and looking at him pleading, like a child afraid of the dark. His voice is no more than a whisper. "Will you leave me too?"

A dream, perhaps. Or a reality that masks itself too effectively. Geralt swallows, shakes his head. "Who... Who else left?"

Jaskier's lips curve in what looks like a smile but it trembles as he whimpers, and resembles a wince more. "They leave. All of them..." His eyes dart around the room, hazy and tired. He's shaking. "Everyone I love." Then, afraid, breathless, he turns to Geralt again. "Will you leave if I tell you I love you?"

A pause.

For a moment, Geralt wants to be selfish. He wants to stay frozen and then think that it can't be, Jaskier is feverish, and then get lost in his thoughts and longing until he loses the bard's gaze again.

But then Jaskier is looking at him as though certain of the answer, resigned, and his eyelids are already drooping. And he doesn't have time. He can't let him close his eyes again, not like that.

Because then when Jaskier shakes and mumbles broken nothings in his sleep, Geralt will hear his own name as well.

He tightens his grip on the bard's hand, smiles. Genuine. Then raises the hand on his lips. "No, Jaskier," he whispers and it's careful, gentle like a lullaby to lull him to rest. As he watches Jaskier's face light up under the candlelight, even faintly, his heart beats faster. "I won't ever leave you." He presses a kiss on his knuckles. Lingers there. "I promise."

Jaskier smiles, a weak thing, and closes his eyes. Something is flowing down his cheek and Geralt is not sure if it's sweat or a tear. He doesn't need to know.

" 'm cold."

Jaskier's voice quivers along with the tremors jolting his body.

It's a habit. Geralt will ever so gently raise his head and put another pillow behind his back. He will sit beside him and pull him, careful, to rest his head on his chest. He will arrange the blankets around them, tuck them under Jaskier, and wrap his arms around his shaking body. He's done it again.

Only that now his eyes are burning, and he's swallowing down the tears that are too soon to fall. Now he tightens his hug a bit more, and he's not as afraid.

Jaskier sighs as he nuzzles on his chest. Slowly, Geralt removes the sweaty hair sticking on his forehead, wet from the compress, and leans down to press a kiss on his head.

"I love you too, Jaskier."

He's not sure if he heard him, voice as low as his breath. He only knows that after a while Jaskier stops trembling, and sleeps, the frown between his brows finally fading.

[thearvariblues]

The Mysterious Case of Jaskier's Immortality

Word count: 3601

*

“So nice to see you again, Yennefer,” Jaskier says, putting on one of his many fake smiles.

“Jaskier,” she replies with a smile that almost looks genuine but Jaskier is pretty sure that it’s not. Which she confirms a few seconds later by saying: “Shouldn’t you be dead already?”

“I see you’re as kind as always, my dear. But don’t you worry, Geralt is doing a very good job when it comes to protecting me.”

“Hm,” Geralt sighs resignedly, clearly regretting his decision to spend the night in an inn instead of the middle of a forest.

To be fair, it was Jaskier who suggested it, claiming that he refused to be eaten by angry drowners, no matter how many times Geralt tried to explain to him that the probability of finding a drowner in the middle of a very dry forest is extremely low.

If Jaskier knew they were going to run into Yennefer in the inn, he would have risked the drowners.

“I don’t doubt that,” Yennefer smirks. “But seriously, how old are you, bard?”

“No idea. I stopped counting after fifty, I think.”

“You know, you don’t look fifty,” she says.

“Oh, well, my mother had an elf lover before I was born, so there’s a fifty-fifty chance that I’m not gonna age anytime soon. Sorry,” Jaskier smiles again, sweetly – and this time, it’s genuine.

“As if,” Geralt grunts.

“I’m sorry, dear?” Jaskier blinks.

“Come on, Jaskier, it doesn’t work like that. You’re a viscount, that means your father must have been a viscount, too.”

“You don’t know much about nobility, do you, Geralt?” Yennefer snorts.

“Hm,” Geralt grunts. “Still, he’s not a half-elf.”

“Let me guess, you’re a Witcher, therefore you could smell it if I was? I hate to break it to you, dear heart, but you’re going to have your nose checked.”

“You’re not a half-elf, Jaskier,” Geralt repeats. “You’re not immortal, you just… look young.”

“Yeah, right, you got me,” Jaskier shrugs. “I just look good because I moisturize. Happier now?”

“Much,” Geralt nods. “See? You can be honest if you want.”

“Yup,” Jaskier nods. “Honesty personified. Now please excuse me, I need to go and moisturize some more. Internally. With ale.”

*

“I’m actually a mermaid, you know?” Jaskier grins the next time he’s asked, this time by a very confused and very old Valdo Marx.

“A siren, Jaskier. Not a mermaid,” Geralt sighs, praying to Melitele to give him strength. “And you’d know that, of course, if you actually were a siren.”

“Just so you know, the term siren is actually quite offensive to my people.”

“You mean idiots?” Geralt chuckles. “You’re not a siren, Jask.”

“Can you prove that I’m not?”

“Well, last week you tripped and fell into this creek that was like… knee-deep, and you nearly drowned.”

“I was in shock!” Jaskier proclaims dramatically. “But I have a proof that I am, or at least could be a siren.”

“What proof?”

“Well, my lovely voice, of course!”

“Not as lovely as you think it is,” Valdo Marx snorts.

“Come on, Jaskier,” Geralt sighs, ignoring the old troubadour. “You have much better voice that any siren I’ve ever heard.”

“Geralt of Rivia!” Jaskier gasps, clutching his chest. “Was that a compliment?!”

“Fuck,” Geralt mutters. “I didn’t mean…”

“Really though, Jaskier,” Valdo says. “How?”

“That’s a secret I’ll take to the grave, I’m afraid,” Jaskier grins. “Once I manage to reach it.”

“Keep on with the bullshit, Jaskier,” Geralt growls, “and you can reach it tonight.”

“Fifty years traveling with him, and he still thinks he can scare me. Cute, isn’t he?” Jaskier laughs. “Oh, Geralt you could never.”

“Try me.”

*

“All right, I’ll tell you my secret,” Jaskier winks at Ciri, who lifts an eyebrow. “I’ve got this neat… magic ring.”

“Hmmm,” Ciri observes. “Looks like a normal signet ring to me.”

“Well… Yeah, well, it looks like it, all right, but actually–”

“Jaskier, I was born a princess. This is clearly a Pankratz family signet ring.”

“Damn,” Jaskier groans. “Like father like daughter, eh?”

“Sorry,” Ciri shrugs.

*

“I got myself cursed.”

Triss Merigold lifts an eyebrow.

“Somebody cursed you to live forever, is that so?” she asks and her voice is almost dripping with disbelief.

“More like cursed me,” Geralt murmurs.

“Oh, shut up, Witcher, you know you couldn’t live without me,” Jaskier smiles brightly, and Geralt has to bite his cheek to stop himself from smiling back.

“Hm,” he says instead.

“Eloquent as ever,” Jaskier nods.

“Would you like me to...” Triss clears her throat. “You know, try to lift the curse?”

“No!” Geralt yells before he can stop himself.

“See?” Jaskier beams. “You could never live without me!”

*

“A bruxa,” Jaskier repeats to a young man who claims to be his son, but looks older than his supposed father.

“You’re not a bruxa, Jaskier!” Geralt whines.

“Excuse me, and how would you know?”

“Because I’m a fucking Witcher?!”

“Well, you’re clearly a fucking horrible Witcher if you haven’t noticed until now!”

“I think I’d notice if you tried to sneak out of the camp at nights to feed,” Geralt comments, crossing his hands. “You can’t even sneak out to take a piss, Jask.”

“Maybe I do that on purpose!”

“Besides, bruxae are mostly women.”

“Mostly being the important word here.”

“Fuck’s sake, Jaskier. You won’t even eat a piece of meat if it’s not so well-done that it’s almost cremated.”

“Do you know how disgusting the blood is, Geralt?!” Jaskier groans, and then immediately blinks when he realizes what he just said. “I meant…”

“Case closed,” Geralt nods, satisfied.

“Oh, dear,” Jaskier mutters. “I fucking hate you sometimes.”

“Uhm, my lords, if I may,” the young man says.

“Hate to break it to you, kid, but if you’re aging like a normal human, you’re probably not my son,” Jaskier shrugs. “Sorry. I get it why your mum might be confused, though. It was quite a night, with at least four–”

“And that’s enough,” Geralt says, grabbing Jaskier by the collar and pulling him away from the man. “You know, lifting the curse seems like a good idea now.”

“There isn’t really a curse, Geralt,” Jaskier laughs.

Geralt sighs, his lips curling into a tiny smile that Jaskier cannot see.

“Thank fuck.”

*

“You see, we were in a crazy mage’s tower and I saw this bottle and I thought it was slivovitz, so I drank it, but it seems that it actually was some sort of an immortality potion,” Jaskier explains to a lady at the ball, whose grandmother he’d apparently fucked once, when said grandmother was still a young, unmarried woman.

Geralt only blinks, because it’s the first truly plausible explanation for Jaskier’s mysterious immortality.

“Oh, that must be so horrible to watch everyone you love die!” the woman nods enthusiastically. “Perhaps you’d like to tell me about it in private?”

“Of course, my dear…” Jaskier smiles. “Just… wait a second. How old is your mother?”

“Forty-seven, why?”

Jaskier’s lips are moving silently for a few seconds while he counts, and then thy turn into a wide grin.

“No reason, dear,” he says, offering her his arms. “Shall we?”

When Jaskier and the lady flee the ball, Geralt pulls out his flask of White Gull and pours its contents into his empty tankard.

So, a potion…

*

“There is no such thing as an immortality potion, Geralt,” Yennefer shakes her head.

“How can you be so sure?” Geralt asks. “Maybe this mage really did find a way to at least make the human life longer!”

“And why would he do that?” Yennefer scoffs. She has been doing that a lot since she finally ended their relationship for good about twenty years ago. (He later found out that she had left him for none other than Triss Merigold, but Yennefer still doesn’t know that he knows, and he’s having way too much fun with it to break the fact to her. So right now, he is pretending he doesn’t notice that Triss is eavesdropping on their conversation behind the door leading to Yennefer’s bedroom, and that he absolutely believed Yen when she claimed that the loud thud a few minutes ago was caused by a cat.) “We are immortal, Geralt, unless killed. There is no reason for any of us to make a potion that would make a human live forever.”

“Well, perhaps this mage fell in love with a human and wanted them to stay with him!”

Yennefer pauses, inspecting Geralt from head to toe and back again, and then she sighs.

“Oh, Geralt. Really?”

“Really what?” Geralt blinks, genuinely confused.

“Oh,” Yennefer murmurs. “Oh, no. Really?”

“Really what, Yen?”

“You mean you don’t… Oh, dear gods. Really?”

“Yen, I swear that I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Geralt grunts, frowning.

Yennefer rolls her eyes and tries counting to ten to calm herself down. She doesn’t even get to three before Geralt’s eyes go wide.

“Oh,” he whispers. “Fuck.”

“Fuck, indeed, Geralt,” she nods solemnly. “Fuck, indeed.”

*

“I found a djinn, he granted me a wish,” Jaskier says when Geralt asks him, about five minutes after his meeting with Yennefer. (He agreed to use a portal to get to the bard as soon as possible. A fucking portal!) The bard is sitting in a tavern and eating his dinner, utterly undisturbed by the sudden appearance of an angrier-than-usual Witcher.

“You never mentioned a djinn,” Geralt growls. “And after your last encounter with one, I sincerely doubt you’d engage with another.”

“You clearly don’t know me at all–”

“Besides, Valdo Marx, as far as I know, had an apoplexy while fucking a young student on his desk, and I don’t think you’d ever let him die like that if you had a choice.”

“You see, that was kind of a my mistake, since I didn’t specify the time and the circumstances of his apoplexy in my wish, so…”

“What was your third wish?”

“Pardon me?”

“Your immortality, Valdo Marx dropping dead, that’s two. What was the third one? And don’t even try to mention the Countess de Stael, since you’d have to dig her up first.”

“That was disgusting, even for you, you know that, Geralt?”

“How are you immortal, Jaskier?!”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

Jaskier puts a piece of bread in his mouth and grins.

“Maybe some other time, Witcher.”

*

“I am a fae,” Jaskier replies a day later.

“You’re not a fucking fae, bard.”

“How can you be so sure?”

“Because you fucking lie, Jaskier. All the time.”

“Fuck. Didn’t think of that.”

*

“You see, there was this artifact–”

Geralt closes his eyes, turning Roach around.

“Let’s consult Yennefer about this.”

“Oh, mother of…” Jaskier whines. “All right, no artifact, there was no artifact! Geralt, I’m telling you, there was no…”

*

“You’re not a succubus.”

“But it would be a perfect explanation, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re not succubus, because if you were, you’d know that a male one is called an incubus.”

“Oh, you and your stupid Witcher terms again.”

“You’re not an incubus, Jaskier, because if you were, I could never let you near Eskel.”

“All right… Explain, please?”

Geralt grunts.

“I’d really rather not.”

*

“A dragon,” Jaskier grins victoriously.

“No,” Geralt says, shaking his head.

“No,” Jaskier agrees with a sigh.

“You know you could just tell me the truth and be done with it, right?”

“Hm… No.”

*

“All right, enough is enough,” Jaskier growls that night in their rented room, tossing his doublet aside. “You’ve asked me three times today, Geralt. Why the sudden interest in my immortality?”

“As you said, enough is enough. You’ve been traveling with me for what, a hundred years?”

“A hundred and four.”

“Yes, and you still look the same as the day I met you in Posada!” Geralt growls. “And it drives me mad!”

“It wasn’t driving you insane for at least fifty years, so why the sudden change of heart?”

“Fuck off, bard. You don’t have to tell me. I don’t care.”

“But you do, Geralt,” Jaskier says, taking a step towards the Witcher. “Why?”

He’s standing in Geralt’s personal space, his chemise half undone, and he’s watching Geralt with those sincere blue eyes, and Geralt can’t fucking think…

“Because I love you, you idiot!” he snaps. “Because I fucking love you and I need to know if I can love you, or you’re gonna just drop dead one day without a warning!”

“Oh,” Jaskier whispers, his lips forming into a huge, happy smile. “Oh, fucking finally.”

“Fucking… what?” Geralt blinks, his arms suddenly full of an enthusiastic bard.

“I love you too, you silly Witcher,” Jaskier laughs. “I’ve loved you for a hundred years! Well, a hundred and four, but who’s counting?”

“You…” Geralt mutters.

“Silly, silly Witcher,” Jaskier repeats, pressing his lips against Geralt’s in a kiss that could be described as chaste, or at least the chastest Jaskier has ever been capable of. “We’re going to Lettenhove in the morning.”

“We are?”

“Oh, yes,” Jaskier whispers. “See, I’ve told you the truth about the source of my immortality once. But I think you need to see it to believe me.”

“Wait, you have? When?” Geralt asks. “Was it the artifact? Just tell me, I promise I won’t make you consult it with–”

“Shut up now,” Jaskier says, kissing Geralt again with way less chastity than before. “And in the meantime, believe me this – you can keep loving me, and I’m not planning on dropping dead anytime soon. Also, I’ve spent the last hundred years imagining fucking you senseless, so if you’re not opposed to the idea, perhaps we could, well…”

The kiss that this idea gets him is as far from chaste as one could possibly get.

And Jaskier definitely isn’t about to complain.

*

“You sure this is a good idea?” Geralt asks as they march towards the Lettenhove castle’s gates. He tugs at his doublet’s collar, way too tight for his liking. He’d much rather walk in there wearing his usual attire, but Jaskier insisted that Geralt must look presentable if he wants to meet his family.

It turns out that it only takes a single I love you to turn the bard into a manipulative bastard. Who would have guessed?

“Why wouldn’t it be?” Jaskier replies, grinning cheerfully. “And stop frowning, you’re gonna scare the servants, love.”

“How long it’s been since your last visit here, Jaskier?” Geralt says, his frown deepening. “Who rules Lettenhove now, hm? Aren’t you only going to be a distant relative, a great-great-uncle risen from the grave?”

“I sure hope not,” Jaskier chuckles, stopping in front of the guards by the gate. “Good afternoon, gentlemen. Viscount Julian, here to see the Viscountess Madeleine.”

“How can you still be a viscount?” Geralt blinks when one of the guards promptly disappears inside.

“We kind of decided to, you know, share the title,” Jaskier shrugs. “Seemed fair. Besides, father, well, the former viscount, insisted that I inherit the title, but he never mentioned anything about Mads not inheriting it, so…”

“How could your father have known who the viscount is going to be in almost a hundred years?”

“He really didn’t,” Jaskier chuckles. “See, it will all start to make sense once you meet her.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m hoping for.”

*

The guard returns a few minutes later, telling them that the Viscountess will meet them in the garden.

Geralt, knowing a thing or two about nobility, think it’s a little weird, but isn’t about to protest. He only thinks he could have left the fancy clothes at the tavern.

“Oh, shut up, you,” Jaskier chuckles when Geralt voices this thought. “You look gorgeous.”

“I know. You’ve mentioned it a few times. But I didn’t have to look like that, because we’re going to meet the ruler of this land in a fucking garden, and–”

“Julian!”

A woman in a long white dress throws herself at Jaskier, who happily catches her. Geralt’s first instinct is to reach for his sword, only to realize that he (luckily) left it in the tavern – because Jaskier insisted, of course.

“Madeleine,” Jaskier chuckles. “You haven’t aged a day.”

“Oh, yes. Shocking, isn’t it?” she laughs, pulling away from him, and for the first time, Geralt truly looks at her.

The woman is shorter than Jaskier, slim, and her dress is much, much simpler than Geralt would have expected considering the fact that is supposed to be a viscountess. She has dark, long hair and her face is so beautiful that it almost – but only almost – takes the focus off her pointed ears.

“Lady Madeleine,” Jaskier grins, “may I introduce Geralt of Rivia, my Witcher. Geralt, this is Lady Madeleine, the current ruler of Lettenhove and my younger sister.”

“You’re…” Geralt blinks.

“A half-elf, yes,” she nods. “Julian! You haven’t told him?”

“Hardly my fault. I really tried,” Jaskier shrugs. “But he just wouldn’t believe me.”

“So you brought him here to prove it to him, rather than to visit your beloved sister? You are a horrible, horrible sibling, Julian!”

“Your… sister,” Geralt mutters, all his thoughts speeding through his head, colliding and falling down, one over another.

“Yes, we definitely share a mother,” Jaskier confirms. “Most likely a father, too, and trust me, it wasn’t the old viscount. Madeleine got the elvish looks, I only got the non-aging bit. Well, apparently.”

“But…” Geralt blinks. “Your father. The title.”

“Yen was right, dear heart, you really don’t know shit about nobility,” Jaskier snorts. “But I admit that even though our dear departed noble father knew that Mads wasn’t his daughter, obviously, it never occurred to him that I might not be his true son.”

“But you don’t age!”

“In his defense, that only became clear after his unfortunate passing.”

“And you aren’t going to start to age anytime soon,” Geralt mutters. “You really aren’t.”

“Told you so, didn’t I?” Jaskier winks, letting go of his sister and wrapping his arms around his lover instead.

“I… I…” Geralt stammers. “Fuck.”

“Maybe later, love,” Jaskier smiles. “Madeleine, my dear, wouldn’t you say that my return calls for a feast?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I have started the preparations the second my spies informed me that you have crossed the border.”

“Oh, so we have spies now?”

“It’s really only a net of nosy old ladies, but it works wonders,” Madeleine laughs. “I must admit, though, that I was only planning a feast to celebrate you coming home, but now I see we have a much better reason to party. Tell me, brother, did you finally get your stupid Witcher?”

Jaskier smiles brightly, turning his head to Geralt.

“Yes. I finally got my stupid Witcher.”

“Party,” the Witcher in question growls. “Is that why you made me dress like a pompous prick?”

“No, that was because while I find your usual self extremely attractive, you still look much better when your hair is properly combed and you’re not covered in monster blood.”

“Hm,” Geralt hums, but wraps his arm around the bard to hold him close.

“Oh, yes, about monsters,” Madeleine says with the most innocent expression Geralt has seen since Ciri broke Vesemir’s favorite vase at Kaer Morhen. “You see, we have a tiny problem with a cockatrice…”

“Right,” Geralt nods. “I’ll go grab my armor from the tavern.”

“That won’t be necessary. I have already arranged for your things to be brought to the castle. And your horse,” she adds before Geralt can even open his mouth. “You can leave for your quest as soon as the servants get here.”

“So much for you not being covered in monster blood,” Jaskier sighs.

“Hm,” Geralt grins. “Lady Madeleine, I suppose you happen to have a bathtub somewhere in the castle?”

“Of course. In fact, there is a private bathroom right next to Julian’s bedroom.”

“Geralt of Rivia,” Jaskier purrs. “You know me so well.”

“Yes, and I expect to get to know you even better. In another hundred years or so.”

Jaskier laughs, pulls Geralt closer to him and kisses him.

“Another thousand years, I’d say.”

*

“What… the… fuck?!” Geralt croaks, staring at the smouldering remains of the cockatrice that would have surely killed him if Jaskier… If Jaskier…

The bard looks at his hands, then at the cockatrice, and then back at his hands again.

“Geralt? I have a feeling that I’m not really… A half-elf.”

“No shit.”

“I think I might be… Uhm…”

“Oh, shit,” Geralt whispers.

“I suppose, uhm, you know…” Jaskier stammers, wiping his palms on his trousers like he could wipe away the feeling of literal flames shooting out of them mere moments ago.

“Yeah. We’re gonna have to consult this with Yen.”

“Splendid,” Jaskier sighs. “Can it at least wait after the feast?”

“After more than a hundred years of you not even knowing, I think one feast will be fine.”

“Thank the gods. Madeleine would kill me if I tried to leave now,” Jaskier chuckles. “Let’s go, then. We need to get the fried monster remains out of your hair.”

“You’re… I was fucking right! You’re not a half-elf!”

“Yeah, you’re a great Witcher,” Jaskier nods, grabbing Geralt’s arm and dragging him away from the monster. “Didn’t notice I was secretly a fucking mage, but otherwise a great Witcher.”

“Explains a lot, though.”

“Does it now?”

“Yeah. I always had a thing for mages, you know.”

“Oh, Geralt. You’re such a fucking idiot,” Jaskier chuckles.

“Made you laugh,” Geralt shrugs, smiling.

Jaskier shakes his head.

“I’m so, so gonna drown you in that bathtub.”

“My love,” Geralt grins, “you’re more than welcome to try.”

***

Tagging @lottelorelei - I’m sorry I always forget to reply to your lovely comments, but believe me, they always put a big smile on my face! :)

[wren-of-the-woods]

for the writing prompts: geraskier + 100! <3

Thank you so much for the prompt, my friend!! I had a lot of fun with this. I hope you like it! <3

100: "I'm yours."

Edit: also on Ao3!

~

Geralt sits in a room in a backwater tavern somewhere in Lyria, preparing for bed. He is alone. He has just finished an unusually long hunt, and Jaskier seems to have taken advantage of the time spent in one town to have an affair with the baker’s daughter. Geralt does not expect Jaskier to be back tonight. He thinks idly that he shouldn’t have bothered to pay for a room with two beds.

Then he hears clumsy footsteps thumping up to the door, and the object of his thoughts stumbles into the room.

“Geralt! You’re back!” says Jaskier, obviously drunk.

“I got back this afternoon. You saw me then,” says Geralt, amused. “Where’s your lady friend?”

“She left me,” says Jaskier earnestly. “Said she doesn’t wanna see me anymore.”

He stares morosely at the wall behind Geralt for a moment, then suddenly bursts into tears.

Geralt stands, startled. He helps Jaskier to his bed, sits him down, and awkwardly pats him on the shoulder.

“I’m… sorry?” he tries.

“She left me!” Jaskier cries, looking mournfully up at Geralt. “I loved her an’ she left me. Why do they all leave, Geralt?”

Geralt’s heart clenches a little, because he knows Jaskier did love the baker’s daughter, in his own way. He loves almost everyone he meets, wholly and genuinely. It isn’t his fault that he isn’t good at sticking around — if anything, it’s Geralt’s for traveling so much.

“‘S just… I wanna have someone be mine, y’ know?” Jaskier slurs. “It’s always me bein’ someone else’s. I say I’m theirs ‘n they never say it back. They don’t want me f’r long.”

It’s strange to see Jaskier so openly distressed. Usually, the bard is content to hide his more melancholy feelings behind a wall of speech and smiles. Geralt thinks he is either very upset or very drunk. Or both.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says again, not sure what to do.

Jaskier flops backwards onto the bed and stares at the ceiling.

“Nobody’s mine,” he says sadly, and closes his eyes. He falls asleep almost immediately.

Geralt looks at him for a long moment, watching his chest rise and fall thinking about what he’s just heard. It’s strange to think of Jaskier feeling sad or lonely. He hadn’t thought the bard could ever feel that way, living surrounded by people and laughter as he always does.

Thinking about it makes Geralt feel strangely unhappy.

Slowly, Geralt finishes taking off his armour and gets into his own bed. He tries not to think about it He needs to rest. They’re leaving in the morning. He rolls over so his back is to Jaskier, and does his best to ignore the emotions.

Sleep, despite his best efforts, is a long time coming.

~~~

Days later, Geralt watches Jaskier from across the tavern. He is performing as usual, dancing about the tavern with all the joy and elegance of an otter in the ocean. He’s radiant like this, in his element even amongst farmers and blacksmiths in some backwater town he may never see again. He knows just how to read the room, just what to do to ensure that he and Geralt get what they need and his audience leaves with smiles on their faces.

Geralt looks at him, and he thinks of that night in Lyria. He cannot understand how someone like Jaskier could ever feel overlooked.

~~~

Days later, Geralt watches Jaskier from across the marketplace. He is haggling with a shopkeeper selling cheese, all eloquent hands and loud exclamations. His strategy seems to be to overwhelm the poor cheesemonger with a constant barrage of words until the man relents. He hasn’t noticed that Geralt is looking, and Geralt is content to keep it that way for the moment. The bard’s antics are far too amusing to interrupt.

Then Jaskier turns around, just for a moment, and Geralt can see the exact moment the bard spots him. His face lights up in a blinding grin, as though he’s trying to send a beam of pure joy across the square and into Geralt. Before Geralt can respond, Jaskier has turned around and returned to arguing with the cheesemonger as though nothing has happened. It feels a little bit like the sun has gone behind a cloud.

Geralt looks at him, thinks of that night in Lyria, and doesn’t know how Jaskier could possibly feel unwanted.

~~~

Days later, Geralt watches Jaskier from across the path. The bard is rambling on about a sheep he saw in Kaedwen, of all things. He is neither singing nor performing, simply talking and walking and being. There’s a certain trust to it, a vulnerability, that Geralt doesn’t know what to do with. Jaskier isn’t putting on a show, as he almost always does. He doesn’t even know for sure that Geralt is listening. On the surface it’s similar to all of Jaskier’s chattering, but Geralt can feel the difference. It’s more open, more unguarded than Jaskier ever gets with people he doesn’t trust.

Geralt looks at him, thinks of that night in Lyria, and cannot understand how anyone could have this without understanding its worth.

~~~

Days later, Geralt watches Jaskier from across the campfire. The bard is quiet, entirely focused on whatever he is writing in his notebook. Even now, he is not still. One of his crossed legs bouncing as rapidly as his thoughts are presumably moving, and he occasionally twiddles with his quill. His face is lit by the warm, flickering light. He almost glows against the darkness of the forest behind him. He looks almost magical like this, like a being from another world. A being of motion and music and light.

Geralt looks at him, thinks of that night in Lyria, and cannot conceive how someone could see him like this without letting him steal their affections. Without giving him their heart.

Oh. Oh.

Geralt thinks he might be in love.

~~~

They are in a tavern again. It’s quite similar to that one in Lyria, mostly because there is only so much variation to be had among backwater taverns in quiet towns. Jaskier is downstairs, singing, but Geralt thinks the bard will join him in their room before long.

True to his guess, Jaskier throws open the door to their room barely fifteen minutes later. He’s still flushed and smiling from his performance, chattering rapidly about something or other, full of excess energy. He’s happy, but Geralt keeps thinking of the last time they were in an inn like this. He wonders how much sadness Jaskier is burying beneath his good cheer.

He thinks of Jaskier, lonely in a crowd. He thinks of Jaskier, longing for someone who wants to be his, not knowing that he holds Geralt’s heart in his nimble, lute-calloused hands. He thinks Jaskier deserves to know.

Nobody is mine, he remembers Jaskier saying.

“I am,” Geralt says.

Jaskier cuts off his stream of words and looks at Geralt in confusion. “What?”

“That night in Lyria. You were drunk.”

Jaskier is amused. “I know you’re trying, darling, but I’m afraid you’ll have to elaborate a bit,” he says with a smile.

“I— you said— hmm.” Geralt huffs, frustrated. He can’t figure out how to get the words to make sense.

“Yes?” Jaskier prompts, sounding fond.

“You were sad,” he tries. “Because of the baker’s daughter. You said… you said you wished someone would be yours.”

Jaskier is still and silent, suddenly, all of his attention focused on Geralt. Geralt can hear the nervous, birdlike fluttering of his heart.

“I am,” he says, looking away from those too-bright, spellbinding eyes. “Yours.”

Jaskier doesn't make a sound. Geralt can’t bring himself to look at him.

Maybe Jaskier didn’t want to hear that, not from him. Maybe Geralt has only made it worse. Maybe Jaskier feels betrayed by someone he thought was just a friend. Maybe Geralt has ruined everything. Maybe—

Geralt is almost knocked back by the sudden force of a bard launching himself at his chest. Strong arms wrap around him. Geralt’s own arms come up instinctually, half simply to keep one of them from falling. They are, he realizes belatedly, hugging.

And Jaskier is crying into his shoulder.

“Jaskier?” he says hesitantly. He’s not sure what’s happening.

“Don’t,” Jaskier chokes out. “Don’t you dare ‘Jaskier’ me after you’ve just said the most incredible thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Jaskier,” Geralt says again, and the bard laughs wetly. “Are you… all right?”

“Am I all right, he asks. Gods, Geralt. Do you know what you just did? I’m… I’m in shock. I’m dancing in the clouds. I’m cartwheeling through roses. I’m making no sense. I’m fucking amazing.”

Geralt doesn’t know what to say to that, so he stays silent.

Then Jaskier pulls away, suddenly serious. “Did you mean it?”

“Yes.” Geralt is sure of that now.

“Really?”

“Yes.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says, and a grin spreads slowly across his face. “Oh.”

He buries his face in Geralt’s shoulder.

“Me too,” he says, muffled but perfectly intelligible to Geralt. “I’ve been yours for years, Geralt.”

That brings Geralt up short. “What?”

Jaskier laughs again. “Silly witcher. I’ve followed you around the Continent for decades. Did you think I’d do that for anyone?”

Geralt stops, thinks for a moment, and realizes that, in all the ways that matter, Jaskier has been with him longer than anyone else.

“Oh,” he says, feeling slightly stupid, and Jaskier laughs again.

“Yes, oh, you big oaf. Now shut up and kiss me.”

And Geralt did.

~~~

Days later, Geralt looks at Jaskier. They are tangled together in Jaskier’s bedroll. There is no empty space between them, only warm skin and gentle touches. Jaskier’s eyes are closed, but his breathing has not quite evened out into slumber. He is snug and calm and happy, here in Geralt’s arms, and it’s the most beautiful thing Geralt has ever seen.

Geralt looks at him, and he thinks of that night in Lyria, and he thinks that perhaps he is lucky that no one else thought to tell Jaskier they are his. Now, after all, he has the bard to himself.

He shifts the small amount required to place a soft kiss on Jaskier’s forward.

Jaskier makes a quiet, happy noise, nestles his head into the crook of Geralt’s neck. Geralt smiles softly.

“I’m yours,” he whispers again, into the quiet night air.

And he falls asleep with a smile on his face.

The end

[undercoveravenger]

Terms and Conditions

Pairing: Jaskier x GN!Reader

Requested: Yes

Request: ���could you write a fic about an ace non binary/gender neutral reader meeting Jaskier and having adventures together + slow burn and best friends to lovers sorta thing? I think it’d be really cute if the reader was scared of telling Jaskier how they feel because they’ve never been in love/dated anyone before (speaking from experience lol) but when they finally confess Jaskier’s just like “why the fuck didn’t you say so sooner, I’ve been in love with you from day one” and he gets all flustered and cute when the reader flirts with him/shows him affection❤️”

-----

As a witcher, you were no stranger to late nights and early mornings, but that didn’t mean you’d ever really be accustomed to your best friend waking you up at some god-awful hour of the morning.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Jaskier exclaimed frantically as he burst into your room at the inn the two of you had chosen to stop at, hurriedly crossing the room to shove at your shoulder. “We need to leave immediately!”

He relented when a groggy groan escaped you and you sat up, moving instead to gather your things into your pack and bring your boots to your bedside for you.

“What’s wrong this time, Jask?” you asked blearily, rubbing sleep from your eyes as you pulled on your boots.

Jaskier looked up from where he was crouched by your bag, “You know that woman I was with last night?” When you nodded he continued with his story, “Well, her husband came back and, needless to say, he was less than pleased to see me. So we should go very quickly because he was right behind me.”

You huffed out a laugh, ignoring the sharp stab of hurt at the thought of Jaskier with someone else. “Have you ever considered that your life would be in substantially less danger if you chose to stop sleeping with married people and settled down with someone?”

He gave a sarcastic laugh, though he grinned a little when you pushed yourself to your feet and slung your bag over your shoulder anyway. “Yes, well, that would be far easier if the only person I’ve had genuine feelings for shared that interest.”

You raised an eyebrow curiously, though Jaskier ignored your probing questions as he led you cautiously down to the main floor of the inn to return your keys and then out to the stables for your horses. “Have you told this person how you feel about them?” “Of course not,” he said, finally giving in to your questioning. He gave you an odd look as he pulled himself up onto his horse. “I am… decidedly not their type.”

You remained quiet as you mounted your horse, lost in thought as you considered who exactly might be the unknowing bearer of your friend’s heart. Certainly none of the lords or ladies he’d fucked his way through throughout the time you’d been traveling together; he never spoke of any of them after spending the night with them and hardly ever remembered their names. Really, the only person he’d ever spoken fondly to you about had been…

Well now, that really made too much sense. You nodded to yourself, now certain that the bard was in love with his former traveling companion; a white-haired witcher by the name of Geralt. You’d heard the dozens of songs that Jaskier had written about the witcher and his adventures, and he’d told you enough stories that his fondness was easy to see. And with what you’d heard about Geralt’s exploits with a mage named Yennefer and the women of the towns they passed through, you could understand why Jaskier didn’t think he was the witcher’s type. With all that in mind, you understood why he wouldn’t want to say anything.

Hell, you couldn’t judge; it wasn’t like you were planning on saying anything to Jaskier about your own feelings anytime soon.

-----

Eventually you pulled your horse to a stop when you judged that the two of you were far enough from town to be safe from slighted husbands, and Jaskier followed suit. You opened your mouth to say something, but stopped when the faint sound of bells chiming caught your ears. Your brows furrowed and you slid down from your horse, tying off your reins to the branches of a nearby tree before turning and making your way into the treeline.

You could hear Jaskier scrambling noisily through the brush behind you, though your attention remained focused on the small figure sitting crouched at the bank of the murky lake ahead of you, partially obscured by the trees.Your hand fell to the hilt of your sword and you noiselessly drew it from its sheath as you approached the child.

“You’re quite far from home,” you said, eyes locked on the creature as you stopped, gaze not wavering even as Jaskier came crashing into the clearing behind you. “And I suspect you’ve caused a lot of trouble for a great many people.”

The young girl turned to look at you, blond curls tumbling over her shoulder with the movement. She cocked her head as she noticed the blade leveled on her, “I suppose you mean to make me go home?”

“I do,” you replied firmly, “Though I’d prefer it be by your choice rather than force.”

Jaskier puts a hand on your shoulder, leaning forward to speak softly to you, “She’s just a little girl, is the sword really necessary?”

A wry smile crossed your features and your grip tightened on the hilt of your sword until your knuckles went white, “Except it isn’t a little girl, is it?”

The creature let out a delighted laugh and its glamour fell away; fair skin fading to a dark ash gray and brilliant green eyes being consumed by the darkness of the pupils until there was nothing but black left. The curl of the hair straightened and silvered, falling as easily as snow on a winter’s morning. “You’ve good instincts, witcher. He’d have been dead without you,” it said, gesturing at Jaskier.

“You’ve a decent glamour, fae,” you acknowledged, sheathing your sword. It’s visible amusement had you convinced that you weren’t actively in danger. “However, I still cannot allow you to remain.”

It nodded thoughtfully, “I would not be opposed to returning to my court, though I will not do so without payment.”

“What would you deem adequate?” you asked, knowing you’d have to make an iron-clad agreement to lock in a faerie.

It made a thoughtful noise, tapping its too-long fingers together, “You’ve caught me in a good mood, so I will agree to return home to my court and leave this town undisturbed for the foreseeable future in exchange for some…” Its eyes flickered between you and Jaskier once more and a sly grin formed across its lips, “Entertainment. A secret will do.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in disbelief; everything you’d ever heard told you that the fae would rake you across the coals in any deal they made, but a secret? It sounded too easy. “Just a secret, huh?”

“Yes,” it confirmed with a nod, “I quite wonder what a witcher such as yourself might value as much as your most private secret.” Their eyes locked onto Jaskier once more, and their grin grew predatory, “Tell me, how do you truly feel about your companion?”

The faerie’s question had you blanching, tensing under the weight of Jaskier’s baffled stare. You were half tempted to lie, to say he meant nothing more to you than a brother might, but you knew that would void the terms of your deal. You steeled yourself, closing your eyes as you forced yourself to speak. “I’m in love with him.”

Jaskier’s shocked gasp echoed through the clearing behind you, but you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look at him, instead keeping your gaze fixed on the faerie and its smug smile as it vanished into thin air.

Twigs and leaves crunched under Jaskier’s boots as he moved to stand in front of you. “You… love me?”

You couldn’t meet his gaze, instead keeping your eyes fixed on the far bank of the lake as you nodded.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he said, not even giving you a chance to respond before he was taking your face in his hands and surging forward to kiss you. He pulled away after a moment, smiling brightly at you, “Why the hell didn’t you say something sooner? I’ve been in love with you since literally the first time I met you!”

For a long moment you struggled to process what you’d just heard, but as it set in an embarrassed flush spread over your cheeks, much to Jaskier’s amusement. “I didn’t think that- You seemed interested in anyone but me!”

“I didn’t want you to break my heart!” Jaskier huffed, stealing another quick kiss.

You rolled your eyes at the very thought, but you couldn’t help but smile at the thought that this would now be a regular occurrence. You supposed that every now and then a faerie’s deal could have good results.

[writeroutoftime]

coming out as ace to jaskier would include...

a/n: thank you for your patience in me getting this out and I hope that I did this request justice. please enjoy!! 💛 (I'm so sorry, I genuinely thought I posted these WEEKS ago!)

oOoOo

Meeting Jaskier felt as though you were coming home after a long trip- you instantly felt comfortable being in his presence

Although you had heard of his reputation for relationships and one-night stands, you couldn't help but fall for him

This beautiful, talented, and slightly crazy man made you feel seen and head and you enjoyed every moment of getting to know him

However, you were hiding a part of your true identity from him

It wasn't like you meant to, you had simply been swept up in the whirlwind of it all with Jaskier's charming smiles and flirty remarks

Just a short while into the start of your relationship, you realized you needed to tell Jaskier that you identified as asexual, but a small part of you worried over how he would respond

Of course, Jaskier was such a kind soul, but because of the reputation that followed him you wondered if he would want to continue your relationship or not

Deciding to bite the bullet one day, you sat Jaskier down and finally opened up to him with full honesty and transparency

"I'm asexual, Jaskier."

It took Jaskier a moment to respond, and in that moment, your mind could only conjure up the worst possible scenarios

However, when he finally came around, Jaskier took your hands in his grasp, and brushed a soft kiss against your knuckles with a grin

"Thank you for feeling comfortable sharing yourself with me." he said with complete sincerity

With those words, all of your fears disappeared and you knew that Jaskier accepted you for who you were

Both of you recognized that intimacy was about more than just sex and that you wanted to focus on the emotional bond you shared

The rest of the evening, you and Jaskier spent it together talking everything out, and you took the time to answer any question that Jaskier had

He wanted to make sure that he supported you in any way possible and it only made you learn against Jaskier's chest, nuzzling as close to him as possible, feeling secure in your future together