#The curse is just Jaskiers powers

[thedemonofcat]

Hanahaki Disease.

When Jaskier was young, he was cursed. That’s would he had been told. Any form of unrequited love would cause him to cough up Flower Petal. Not only that, eventually, the curse would be over, and Jaskier would turn into trees and flowers.

So Jaskier had been told not to fall in love. Which was a lot harder said than done. As Jaskier found himself falling in Love with everyone. It was never too bad. Only a few flowers.

Then came Geralt. Jaskier fell in love, and he fell in love fast and hard with the Witcher. Sometimes, it only felt like falling with Geralt.

Of course, Geralt did seem to return his feelings, and so the petals kept coming up. But Jaskier hid them; he could die happy if it were with Geralt.

Geralt left him on the mountain, but the petals didn’t stop.

Sometime Later, Jaskier found himself again with Geralt, this time in Kear Morhen with the Ciri, Yennefer and the rest of Geralt’s family. Now, Jaskier knew he didn’t belong; if he did, the petals would have stopped. But at least Geralt was trying to be nicer to him.

One morning, Jaskier awoke to find bark on his legs, and he knew his end was coming

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 123

In place of August Eleventh, Promptapalooza 4/ If you ask Jaskier, dimensional spells were a bitch. That sorcerer was a twat! Blasting him and Geralt with his stupid cursed amulet boosting his stupid powers stupid man making his witcher all frustrated and sad! "Damn it!" Geralt snarls as they appear in a... Very small room. It's pitch black. "Don't fret, Geralt, there'll be a way out, I'm sure-" "Just- Shut up for a moment, Jaskier." "Right! Shutting up right away! Just as soon as I-" "Jaskier!" Jaskier huffs, and begins blindly feeling for some way out of the room. He feels a stick and gasps with excitement. "Oh, Geralt!" He swings the object around blindly until he hears the unmistakable sound of the bristles of a broom smacking directly into the side of Geralt's head. "Jaskier." "Sorry! Didn't mean to! Though you must admit, it's kind of humorous in it's own way-" *growling* "Alright maybe it isn't! Gods." Suddenly brightness blinds them as someone yanks the door open. "Can you damn kids stop trying to fuck in my supply closet!?" A man in weird clothing yells at them. Jaskier stammers a bit trying to think of like, any response, before Geralt just drags him out by the arm. They're in a bright building, with white walls that don't... appear to be stone or wood? And there's SO many people around. And they're all dressed... similarly to them. "Dude! Nice contacts!" A man in black with white hair says to Geralt. "I love your Jaskier outfit, did you make it yourself?" "Um no, I bought it." Jaskier says, to a man who looks remarkably like himself. "..Um, where are we?" Jaskier asks the man, and the man stares for a moment before letting out a soft chuckle. "Ohh! Yeah, it's easy to get lost. You're by the signing booths. What are you looking for? Merch? Photo-ops? Cosplay contest?" "A contest?" Jaskier asks, with excitement. "Yeah! Over who did the best cosplay of The Witcher! Are you going to enter as a Dandelion/Jaskier?" "Yes, I am!~" Geralt is desperately trying to find a way back to his own dimension, waiting for Yennefer to open a portal to find them, but it gets confusing when there's at least forty women AND MEN here dressed exactly like her. Jaskier meanwhile is busy throwing a tantrum over getting second in some contest, but Geralt is more worried for their lives, thank you very much. "SECOND PLACE! In a contest over who looks like me, I got SECOND place, Geralt!"

[catscraftsandcommentary]

I need Lambert/Milena in a Shrek AU.

Just imagine with me:

Duke de Roggeven insults a powerful wizard (we all know he would - he'd be lucky if it was only ONE) who then curses his daughters. All three of them.

(ETA: he pissed off Yennefer. Probably insulted her mixed elven heritage and/or her inability to have kids, so she went "alright. Let's see how you feel when YOUR daughters are inhuman and infertile monsters.")

By night, each of them transforms into a different non-human humanoid: Marta is a succubus (all her lust for power and a crown turned into a different kind of lust - and we'll pretend that succubi *can* live without sex, but they feel sick and hungry the whole time), Marika is an elf (still elegant and pretty, but inhuman enough to shock everyone - Marika didn't piss off Yennefer), and Milena is a witcher (Yennefer saw her strength and kindness and went "this suits you.")

Marta, of course, spends the entire time being FURIOUS at being some "sex obsessed half goat! I am the daughter of a DUKE! The ELDEST DAUGHTER! How dare she!" Marika isn't happy, per se, but she privately goes "it could be a LOT worse. I'll take it." Milena actually enjoys her new abilities - she's so strong! Her senses are much sharper! - and the eyes are rather pretty.

After being COMPLETELY HORRIFIED that his daughters (well, mostly Marta) are cursed to become non-humans by night, Duke de Roggeven locks them in a castle guarded by a dragon and then pretends that he's sent them abroad to stay with distant relatives.

Meanwhile, Marta is getting on EVERYONE'S last nerve with her constant bitching, Marika is trying to keep their lifestyle as pleasant as possible, and Milena...

Milena befriends the dragon. She thinks Villentretenmerth is fascinating, and when she learns that the three ladies who showed up to help the sisters are also dragons, she wants to learn as much as they can teach her.

(Marta refuses to acknowledge any of them. "I will not consort with beasts," she sniffs hautily, and locks herself in a private bedroom every night before sunset.)

So! Back in Redania, Duke de Roggeven has convinced everyone that Yennefer's line about "whoever breaks the curse will gain a treasure greater than gold or gems" means that they can gain literal treasure (and/or magical treasure) by rescuing and marrying his daughters, and not - to take an example COMPLETELY at random - their true love as a bride.

(Yes, true love is the cure. Of course it is.)

So the asshole king of Kaedwen hears about the supposed princess and holds a huge tournament - and Lambert shows up because "that fucker dumped a bunch of refugees in our mountains, the fucking bastard. Who does that?!"

Jaskier, being one of the refugees - and also a bard who can sense the potential for a good story - insists on coming with him. They 100% do the "Donkey won't stop singing until Shrek snaps at him to shut up - and then he hums" scene.

About five times.

(Geralt and Eskel either stayed home to help Vesemir manage the refugees or hang around the Kaedweni court to remind the king of his promise - and make sure he doesn't get any even WORSE ideas.)

(Lambert REFUSED to stay in Kaer Morhen when Vesemir was being bossy - "I get enough of him riding my damn ass during fucking winter, NO GODSDAMNED WAY." And his brothers very sensibly refused to let him stay in court longer than absolutely necessary because, uh, they've MET Lambert and they know exactly how badly it would go. So he gets rescue duty by default. At least the princess will be happy to get to Ard Carraigh and away from him. They send Jaskier with him to try to temper some of his, uh, Lambert-ness.)

Anyway! Lambert and Jaskier arrive at the tumbledown castle guarded by a dragon, and Jaskier is immediately like "oh how wonderful! How majestic! Look at that wingspan!" And Lambert is like "...remember how we're here to fight the bastard? We have to GET PAST HIM to rescue whatever noble bint got stuck out here."

Jaskier pouts.

Villentretenmerth finds all this terribly amusing, especially since he recognizes a witcher when he sees one. So he sticks his nose in their camp and asks (rumbles) "what makes you think that even a witcher can defeat the greatest and oldest of dragonkind?"

So Jaskier introduces them - as dramatically and fancily as possible - and states that they are here to rescue the princess.

Milena creeps out from Villentretenmerth's wing. "We are the daughters of the Duke de Roggeven, and there are three of us. I hope you will still take us home?"

Villentretenmerth sighs. This girl. Always getting underfoot. "I will let you take the ladies with you - but you must convince them to leave freely. If they refuse - now or later - I will take them back."

"He sent THREE girls to some remote fucking castle? Fucker. Yeah, I'll take you all. Jask, let's find 'em and get out of here."

So Milena leads them up to the tallest tower where her sisters spend their day. I can't decide if I want Marta to do the whole "sleeping beauty waiting for a kiss" thing (assuming that JASKIER is her princely rescuer and Lambert is just there as a guard.) If she does, she'll get a rude surprise when Lambert shakes her awake and tells her to pack anything she's taking with her, they're LEAVING.

So the guys get the ladies and lead them out - pretending to ignore the hissing and squabbling that said ladies are doing behind the men's backs - and are unhappily surprised AGAIN because not only are their rescuer(s) NOT a prince and his retinue, they don't even have HORSES.

The dragons, of course, are watching this with amusement...and no little relief at getting rid of Miss Complainer the Eldest.

I'm gonna say it takes less than two days for Marta and Lambert to have a truly nasty fight. She wants a horse. A private carriage, really, but she'll SETTLE for a horse. Purebred, obviously. And fashionable new dresses, and BATHS, and food cooked in an actual KITCHEN, and a private bedroom from sundown to sunrise, and...

Lambert is just like "look lady, I don't get any reward until I deliver you, I don't have the coin for any of that, and I wouldn't waste on stupid fucking luxuries if I did."

This does not go over well. At all. There are very angry words shouted about his lack of preparation, decorum, breeding, proper dress...the list is endless.

Lambert gives exactly zero shits.

Milena is watching the fight with interest - she finds him FASCINATING - and Marika is mostly trying to stay out of it. She agrees with Marta on most of the points - their tower-castle was reasonably comfortable, certainly more so than this long hike back to civilization - but also, freedom.

If only they were returning home instead of to a strange country...

Which is about when Villentretenmerth - as the human Borsch - walks into their camp, accompanied by the three dragon woman who have been tending to the sisters. "Marchionesses. Wolf. Bard. I warned you I would take the ladies back if they wished to leave your company."

"The TOWER is better than staying with this BARBARIAN," Marta sniffs. "And Father arranged for marriages for Marika and I already!"

(She knows she gets the crown prince - and she knows that Kaedwen's king is a murderous asshole. Being queen doesn't count if she's not alive to enjoy it...and she won't have allies there to help her plot regicide. She's ambitious, not stupid.)

Somehow, it works out that Borsch and his friends take Marta and Marika back while Lambert and Jaskier continue to Kaedwen with Milena. There is ABSOLUTELY a scene where Lambert is out hunting when bandits try to attack the supposedly unguarded noblewoman and bard, and Milena thoroughly kicks their ass.

Lambert runs back just in time to be HELLA aroused impressed at Milena. Jaskier is already composing an ode to her.

They arrive at Ard Carraigh. Stuck up knights send for the king, who pretends he's a decent person long enough to carry Milena off on a fancy horse. Half an hour later, just as Lambert is moping about losing his new friend, his brothers arrive and go "quick, where's the lady? We have to get out her out of here!"

A very confusing but short explanation-argument later, Eskel and Geralt are chasing after Lambert as he storms the royal palace BY HIMSELF, because like hell will he leave Milena to that monster!

The confrontation is absolutely the most dramatic thing Ard Carraigh has seen in decades, with the witchers storming in just after Milena is crowned but before she can kiss her new husband...

...whom Lambert immediately punches in the face. "HOW MANY WOMEN HAVE YOU KILLED?!? HOW MANY, ASSHOLE? Did you even bother to COUNT THEM?"

Everyone gasps. Eskel and Geralt keep the guards back with drawn swords.

"NO MORE! I *WILL NOT* let you murder Milena for your sick fucking games!"

The king tries to splutter something, but Lambert takes his head off before he can get it out.

And then the sun sets.

And Milena...changes.

Scars from her training with the dragons, greater muscles than any noblewoman should have, and her eyes...

She shrieks - not at the king's death or the witchers' violence, but at her own secret coming out. She's hidden it for so long, and so carefully...she'll never survive this. The Kaedweni court will turn her out, if they don't execute her with her (very briefly) husband -

And then Lambert takes her hand.

"Milena? Are you...okay? Did they hurt you? What happened?"

"I'm CURSED! My sisters and I are cursed - for years now!"

He looks at her. "Y'look fine to me. It suits you."

"Really?"

"I wouldn't lie to you. Never have, never will. And I think you look - good. Really good. The dress is kinda silly - "

Milena giggles. She thought the same thing, when her maids were lacing and buttoning her into the massive thing.

"But YOU are gorgeous. Always have been."

"You still like me? Even..."

"As mutated and scarred up as I am? I'd have to be a fool not to. You're the bravest, strongest, most amazing woman I've ever met."

And she kisses him. She has to, can't hold it back.

(Cue the curse breaking - and leaving her as a witcher.)

Obviously there's cleanup, but Milena IS the queen, and is suddenly betrothed to the man who killed the murderous previous king - so it works out.

And then Villentretenmerth comes back.

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holiday seasons! Something about jaskier being the equivalent of the Beyonce of the continent (geraskier, yeraskier?) Also thoughts on Liam Hemsworth as the new Geralt? Love you! <3

a continuation of 1

Yennefer is in the middle of the very important work of schmoozing her way into a baron’s good graces when Jaskier and his husband enter the ballroom.

(Geralt had irritated her the last time they’d crossed paths so she’s currently only referring to him as Jaskier’s husband to his face. He secretly loves it, but it does cause a bunch of annoying questions for him that he hates, so it’s still a net win as far as she’s concerned.)

The baron gapes. “Is that – surely it can’t be – the bard Jaskier?”

There are more excited titterings around the ballroom, everyone looking at Jaskier with the hungry gazes that she wanted them to direct towards her. Rude.

“Yennefer!” Jaskier shouts, crossing the room to her side, Geralt trailing a half step behind.

“You know him?” the baron demands incredulously.

She’s a sorceress of almost limitless power and he’s impressed because she’s crossed paths with a bard. This has to be some sort of curse.

“We were looking for you, we could use some of you help with some, um, stuff.” He darts a look back at husband then looks at her meaningfully, as if she wasn’t perfectly capable of picking up his incredibly unsubtle hint herself. Geralt just looks resigned, and a little grumpier than normal, which means he really does need help. Anything that can get a witcher – especially Geralt – looking for help can’t mean anything good.

“It’s an honor to meet you,” the baron says, shoving her to the side to grasp Jaskier’s hand and shake it eagerly. “Are you available to play? We’d love to hear you. We can pay of course, and we have accommodations for you and your companion, if you’re interested. Even just one song would be wonderful.”

They already have live music. What’s the big deal? Just because he can carry a tune doesn’t mean he warrants all this.

Jaskier is pointedly not looking at her and doing his best not to smile, which absolutely means he knows what this is doing to her and finds it hilarious. “If Lady Yennefer can be persuaded to help my companion, then I suppose I can be persuaded to play.”

The baron turns his big pleading eyes onto her, paying her more attention than he has the whole night.

She mentally denotes Jaskier to Geralt’s husband.

[jessiexcorner]

‘Destiny is she.’

Kerack.

 Just a small town with not much going for it, though it was known for its alcohol and the pirates that used to raid the people there centuries ago. 'Not anymore.' Yennefer thought as she drank. After the red death, the once-powerful kingdom fell into shambles. At least they still had their beer going on for them.

"TOSS A COIN TO YOUR WITCHER!" Yennefer winced, hearing the familiar song buzzing in the back.

  "Ugh. If I have to hear that blasted song one more time, I'm going to kill myself." Yennefer turned to see the drunk bard who wrote it.

  "Jaskier?" He turned his head to look up to see the sorceress. He gasped.

  "You! Oh No! I've had enough of you! Y-you harlot witch!" Yennefer rolled her eyes. 

"What? Your girlfriend dumped or something? Also, I'm a sorceress, not a witch."

"No, you ruined my friendship with my only friend! Just cause you had problems in your relationship with him didn't mean you had to ruin mine!"

"We didn't have a relationship."

"It doesn't matter now! I don't need him; I have plenty of friends. And women who want me!" Yennefer turned to order another drink. She didn't want to deal with this right now. A few gulps later, a young girl with blonde hair walked straight toward them.

"Hey! I know you!"

"You do? Oh no. Did I sleep with you?" The girl ignored Jaskier and continued talking to Yennefer.

"You're Yennefer of Vengeberg, aren't you?" Yennefer sighed.

"Look, kid, I don't sell magic anymore. Find someone else."

"Actual, I have a proposition for you."

"Not interested."

"I think you will be-"

"Get lost, kid, before I put a curse on you."

"Weren't you the one looking for a way to conceive?" Yennefer froze. Yes, it's true; that is what she wanted a way to be able to have a child again. But it's not as if she announced it to the world.

"Who told you that?" The girl shrugged with a smug smile.

"Call her destiny." Yennefer scoffed.

"Destiny?" The young girl nodded.

"Everyone knows about her. There's a legend on her. They say that if you ever want to change all the bad that has been done to you; change the fate you've been given, then follow the river upstream to the cottage in the woods. There be a woman, full of grace and beauty, but be careful what is said to her for destiny is she."

"First of all," the drunk bard who had been listening in began, "that doesn't rhyme."

"It's not supposed-" the blonde tried to argue.

"Second of all, who's 'they'?"

"What? No- Look, that doesn't matter, I'm not even talking to you!"

"You know he has a point," Yennefer said.

"Huh?"

"Who is this 'they'?" She said with a cheeky smile. The blonde girl turned redder than the drunken bard and stomped in anger.

"You know what! I don't care! I did what She told me to do and delivered the message! I'm leaving!" She marched out of the bar.

"Say, did you catch her name? I think she fancies me." Jaskier mumbled. Yennefer took a deep breath and finished her drink. 'let's find out who this destiny person is.' She thought, heading out.

                                                       . . .

'Well, what do you know there is a house.' Yennefer thought. She noticed there was a protection spell around the house covering it like a thick fog. She walked towards the house, trying to create a pathway for herself. 'Damn,' This was harder than she thought it would be. 'Why would anyone need such a potent protection spell?' As she tried to move through, it became harder to breathe. Yennefer could feel a headache coming on, it felt as if something was pushing her to fall asleep. She falls and gets knocked out by the gas. Before she falls completely unconscious she notices the end of a flowy robe walking towards her.

Yennefer wakes up feeling as if she has the worst hangover of her life, she notices a blanket covering her and a bed. "What the fuck?" she mutters noticing her surroundings for the first time. A bedroom with a fireplace, cozy and warm but what stuck out the most was the fact she didn't remember how she got here. The door to the bedroom opens before Yennefer can investigate her surroundings more thoroughly.

"Ah, you're not dead. Good." a woman with (h/c) hair wearing a simple white flowy gown exclaims. Yennefer startled immediately turns defensive shooting a gust of magic toward the woman who waves it off as if it were nothing, almost as if, annoyed by Yennefer's reaction.

"Now, is this any way to repay hospitality Yennefer?" The woman says practically scolding Yennefer like a misbehaving child.

"You knocked me out!"

"No, you knocked yourself out." She sat next to the violet-eyed woman, raising her hand near her making Yennefer flinch from the unexpected movement. 

"Relax, I'm only helping your body get rid of the poison from the mist." She sighs moving away after she is done, Yennefer does feel a bit better, less like she had a massive hangover. The woman stands and walks near the fireplace, lighting it with a flick of her fingers, sitting down on a couch with a tea set on a table. "Well? come sit," She points at the other chair meant for Yennefer. Yennefer gets up and slowly walks to the woman sitting on the chair. "Cream?" She offers the raven-haired woman.

"..No," Yennefer declines not wanting any other foreign substances in her body.

"Suit yourself." The woman shrugs, pouring some cream for herself, and lifts her cup taking a sip.

"Why did you want me here?"

"Oh, did my little birdy not tell you?"

"No, well, yes but- that's not- look do you really have a way for me to conceive or are you playing games with me? Because i should warn you i am not in the mood." Yennefer huffs.

"Of course!" The (h/c) haired woman claps her hands making the tea set disappear, with a small vial and a contract replacing it. "This little bottle of magic can bring back anything that was lost. It'll fix you right up, grow back your uterus, and let you keep your good looks," She winks with a smile at Yennefer, who looks at the paper carefully.  

"And I’m guessing this contract I am supposed to sign ensures I do your bidding?" The stranger's grin widens.

"Clever girl. it is fair, after all, i am only asking very little in return for a high reward." Yennefer scoffed but then again she was desperate she wanted this, badly.

"And what would that small favor be?" She questions the woman. "Am i to find you someone and bring them to you?" she rolls her eyes sarcastically commenting.

"Well, yes, that is exactly what I want you to do."

"Right. Sounds simple enough."

"Hm, simple." she hums in agreement, "I just need you to bring me Geralt of Rivia."

...What? "No, no! Absolutely not! What could you possibly need him for?" Yennefer protests, making the other woman rolled her eyes.

"I'm not going to eat him, or kill your lover boy,"

"He's not-"

"Come on Yen! All you have to do is bring one witcher here, and I'll give you the ability to conceive again, don't you want that choice back?" The woman circles Yennefer, "They took everything from you, yen. They took your right, your decision. Not only am i offering you your freedom, but i am also giving you an option that doesn't require sacrificing your beauty or power." She twirls a lock of Yennefer's hair around her fingers. "and all you have to do is bring me one measly man." Yennefer hesitates. This can't be real, this had to be a trick, but what could she do? the dragon plan didn't work, Geralt was an arse and she had nothing and no one left. "Tell you what, since you have so many issues with me," The woman picks up the vial and hands it to Yennefer. "You can try the potion of mine, and once it works, and it will believe me you will know if it does. You will bring me Geralt." Yennefer's face reads of worry. "Come on you, poor girl, what do you have to lose? You already tried everything. What, you're worried about your man? What do you think I will do to the witcher? Think I will kill him? He's more likely to end me before I can touch him." Yennefer lets the words of this woman influence her, but she couldn't understand what she wanted with Geralt.

"..Fine, deal, if this works...I'll bring you your witcher."

"Lovely!" The woman smiles waving her hand making a feather appear and floats into Yennefer's hand. Yennefer pauses, feeling the softness of the feather. 

"...Before I sign this, I want to know your name, your real name. I have a feeling it isn't 'destiny'" The woman chuckles once again walking behind Yennefer, placing her soft hands onto her shoulders.

"(Y/n), a pleasure to meet you, Yennefer."

[wren-of-the-woods]

Love, Joy, and Kittens

When Geralt and Yennefer finally get a room at an inn after weeks of travel, Jaskier expects to spend a calm evening with his lovers and sleep in a real bed. This plan is derailed when they find an unexpected creature in their room. Or: In which Geralt, Yennefer, and Jaskier meet a kitten. Established Geraskefer, 5k, rated T. Also on AO3!

Jaskier was having a lovely week.

Ciri had gone off with Lambert and Coën. According to Lambert, they were “having some uncle-niece bonding time.” Jaskier had suspected that this would involve a large number of explosives, cursing in various languages, and very little room for anything else, so he had suggested that he, Geralt, and Yennefer travel alone for a time and rejoin them in a few weeks. The relief on Geralt’s and Yennefer’s faces at the idea had been highly amusing. 

The three of them had been wandering the Path for almost a week. It had, for the most part, been wonderful. Jaskier got to spend time with his lovers, singing at them and making them laugh. He got to appreciate their beauty all day long. He got to spend every night cuddled up to the two of them, reveling in the warmth and safety.

However, he did not get to do any of this cuddling in an actual bed.

Their financial reserves were not exactly plentiful and, with Ciri gone, they did not have any real reason to prefer the comfort of an inn over the convenience of a bedroll in the woods. Jaskier understood all of this perfectly well. This did not mean he was happy about it. 

He may have complained about it a little bit, but, well, he was a bard. If Yennefer and Geralt didn’t want to hear a little whining now and then, they shouldn’t have brought him along. 

Jaskier hadn’t expected anything to come of his grousing. Jaskier had been wrong. 

After a particularly long day of travel, Geralt and Yennefer apparently came to an unspoken agreement. Geralt led Roach into the first town they came across and Yennefer headed in the direction of the inn. Jaskier’s confused and halfhearted objections (“What? Yen, that’s not really necessary, I know we don’t have much coin. I’m really fine, I swear!) were met with firm denial (“Shut up and let us spoil you, idiot), so Jaskier deemed it best to give in.

He made as though to protest at the price the innkeeper named for the single room that was apparently available, thinking to offer his services as a bard in exchange for a discount, but Yennefer cut him off before he could. She handed over the money and nodded in approval when Geralt began to drag him upstairs. She followed them shortly after.

“I still think I should have performed,” Jaskier was saying. He tugged halfheartedly at the grip Geralt had on his hand, though he could not claim that he really minded the touch.

“You’re exhausted,” said Geralt. 

“I think that, as irritating as the innkeeper was, this town does not quite deserve your half-asleep caterwauling,” said Yennefer with a smirk as she came up behind them. 

“Hey! I’ll have you know that you two are the only ones who I grace with my half-asleep caterwauling. Everyone else gets only my performance voice or my drunk caterwauling. Sleepy Jaskier is a gift that only you two get to see.”

“We’re grateful,” said Geralt, “But you really should sleep. Without singing.”

“Just because I’m not a great and powerful magical being doesn’t mean I can’t handle a little fatigue, Geralt.”

“Yes, and acting like a child who doesn’t want to go to bed is such a good way to prove your strength,” said Yennefer.

“Excuse me,” Jaskier said as they approached their room, “I act only with the greatest of grace and—”

A mewling sound from the other side of the door cut off his words.

It was soft enough that Jaskier barely heard it, but the way Geralt froze and stared at the door was enough to assure him that he was not imagining anything. He blinked.

“What’s that?” he asked.

Yennefer was frowning. “I don’t know, but be careful.”

“Is it magical?”

“I don’t think so.”

“It doesn’t smell like a monster,” Geralt agreed.

“Who knows what the innkeeper put in there, though?” asked Yennefer. “It could be a trap.”

“Yes. Be careful.”

The three of them stood there for a moment, staring at the door. It occurred to Jaskier that they would likely look rather comical to an outside observer.

“Well? Are we going in?” he asked.

After a moment of hesitation, Yennefer stepped forward. Slowly, carefully, she opened the door and peeked inside the room. She was silent for a long moment.

“Well? Is it dangerous?” asked Jaskier.

“I’m… not sure,” said Yennefer. Geralt stepped forward with a frown to lean over Yennefer and peek in the room as well.

“What the fuck?” said Geralt.

Jaskier’s heart pounded. He tried to get a look inside the room, but it was effectively blocked by the bodies of his witcher and witch. He stood on his tiptoes. It was no good.

“What is it?” he asked again. “A trap? A monster? Please don’t tell me we have to find somewhere else to sleep. My feet are already killing me. Why aren’t you saying anything? Is it gruesome? Can I see?”

With an irritated glance at Jaskier, Geralt stepped back. A little shakily, Yennefer opened the door and entered the room. Jaskier shoved past her and saw, sitting directly in the center of the room’s only bed—

A tiny, fluffy, orange kitten.

Its head was almost comically oversized for its body. Its tail was neatly tucked around its paws. It was looking at them with an adorably bewildered expression, appearing rather like it had just been woken up from a nap. Jaskier thought it could probably have sat in one of Geralt’s hands with very little trouble.

Jaskier stared at it. It stared back.

Jaskier burst into uncontrolled, delighted laughter.

Yennefer shot him an irritated look. Geralt shuffled awkwardly behind him. This only served to make Jaskier laugh harder.

“A kitten!” he wheezed when he caught a breath between giggles. “You were so nervous— You paranoid bastards— I cannot believe— It’s just a tiny kitten!”

“It might be a trap,” Geralt protested weakly.

“You could probably eat it in a single bite if you wanted to, Geralt!”

“That’s morbid,” said Yennefer. She sounded amused.

“And you!” said Jaskier, wheeling around to face her. “You said you didn’t know if it was dangerous! Yennefer of Vengerburg, the most powerful and feared mage on the Continent, was unnerved by a tiny little cat!”

“I can strangle you, Pankratz.”

Jaskier was overtaken by another fit of giggles.

The kitten mewled again, this time sounding rather disgruntled. Jaskier whirled around to face it.

“Oh, you poor dear. Did we wake you up from your nap? What are you doing here, anyway? Where’s your family?”

“It’s a cat,” said Yennefer. “It can’t understand you.”

“Oh, I thought it was a terrifying supernatural being capable of destroying nations.”

“On second thought, maybe strangulation is too good for you.”

Ignoring her, Jaskier approached the bed. Slowly, he held out his hand towards the kitten. It sniffed his fingers then mewled again. Gently, Jaskier stroked its head with a finger. Its eyes went wide. For a moment, Jaskier thought he had gone too far, but then the kitten pushed up into the touch. Jaskier’s heart positively melted. He kept stroking its head, unable to help the grin that spread across his face.

Behind him, he heard Geralt slowly sidle into the room. The kitten did not react.

“Are you sure it’s a real cat?” Geralt asked Yennefer. Jaskier glanced back to see him staring at the kitten, almost transfixed. “Cats don’t like witchers.”

“I don’t feel any magic,” Yennefer admitted.

“It’s kind of hard to be afraid of someone who’s halfway across the room and looking like a frightened pigeon, even if you’re a cat,” said Jaskier.

Geralt scowled and ignored him. “It can’t stay on the bed forever. We need to sleep there.”

“That is an issue,” said Jaskier thoughtfully. He turned to the kitten. “What are we going to do with you, hmm?”

“Again, it can’t understand you,” said Yennefer.

“Ignore them,” Jaskier told the kitten. “They do not understand the concept of whimsy.”

Slowly, Jaskier shifted so he was sitting on the bed beside the kitten. It did not seem overly bothered by the change. Jaskier moved to stroke its back. It looked content. Very gently, Jaskier brought a hand under its ribcage and picked it up, moving his other hand to support its hind legs and then cradling it against his chest. It mewled confusedly and squirmed a little, looking up at him, but he kept stroking it and it settled within a few moments.

He could feel its tiny chest rise and fall against his hands as it breathed. Its fur was slightly matted in places and it could probably have used a bath, but at that moment, Jaskier could not have imagined something softer or more pleasant to touch. It closed its eyes. Jaskier felt his heart melt a little more at the trust it was showing him.

He glanced up at Geralt and Yennefer to see them still on the other side of the room, looking at him with something that looked startlingly like awe.

“You can come over here,” he said instead of giving in to the flustered feelings trying to overwhelm him. “No need to cower.”

“I don’t want to scare it,” said Geralt, and Jaskier’s heart broke a little.

“You won’t scare him,” he said.

“Him?” asked Yennefer, raising an eyebrow.

Jaskier shrugged. “I’ve decided it’s a he. Orange cats usually are, I think.”

“How do you know I won’t scare him?” asked Geralt, returning them to the original topic.

“He can probably smell you perfectly well from here. If he was going to be scared, he already would be.”

Geralt hesitated. “I don’t know how to act around cats.”

“That’s okay. I’ll show you.” When Geralt still hesitated, Jaskier looked to Yennefer. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”

Yennefer frowned at him. “I’m not scared. I just don’t want to get fleas.”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “I’m sure you can magic away fleas as easily as blinking. Get over here.”

After a quickly-hidden second of trepidation, Yennefer stepped forward. She looked at the kitten. The kitten, after a moment, looked at her.

“Mew?” he said.

Yennefer looked back at Jaskier, seeming uncharacteristically uncertain. Jaskier had to hold back a laugh.

“Come on,” he said. “Pet him.”

Slowly, Yennefer reached out to stroke a hand over his head. He blinked up at her, rather bemused.

“Keep going,” Jaskier said encouragingly.

Yennefer continued to stroke the kitten, first his head and then his back. Within a few moments, he settled and closed his eyes. He looked very content. Yennefer stared down at him with shock and a tiny bit of delight.

Jaskier decided that it was time for her to ascend to the next level.

“Here,” he said, and handed the kitten to her.

Jaskier had seen Yennefer achieve feats of unimaginable bravery. He had seen her fight her worst fears with determination, seen her battle hordes of monsters that might have made even the most skilled of witchers hesitate, seen her face down armies without flinching. Yennefer was brave. She was powerful. She was, in a word, incredible.

She was also looking down at the kitten he had just placed in her hands with an expression that could only be described as terror.

“I don’t know how—” she started to say, then cut herself off with a panicked gasp when she had to fumble with the squirming kitten to keep him from falling. He mewled indignantly.

“It’s okay,” said Jaskier, reaching forward to help. “I’ll show you. Here, you put your hand where it’ll support his weight, under the ribcage is good. Yes, just like that. Now you— yes! You’ve got it.”

Yennefer ended up sitting on the bed beside Jaskier, carefully cradling the kitten to her chest with both hands. The kitten was rather disgruntled by the whole affair, at first, but when Jaskier gently encouraged Yennefer to free a hand and continue stroking him, he settled down. He snuggled into Yennefer’s arm. After a few moments, his eyes slipped closed.

Yennefer’s eyes widened. She swallowed.

“Is he sleeping?” she asked hesitantly, her voice so soft it was almost a whisper.

“Yeah,” said Jaskier, feeling a grin spread across his face. “He’s taking a nap.”

“Oh,” she said softly.

She sat there for a long moment, quietly stroking the kitten. She seemed unable to tear her gaze away from the tiny, fluffy body in her arms. Jaskier found himself unable to tear his gaze away from her. She pet the kitten so gently that it was almost painful to watch, care and tenderness written into her every movement. Her expression could only be described as awe. In that moment, Jaskier was unable to think of anything that could possibly be more beautiful.

After a few long minutes, she looked up. Geralt was still standing against the far wall of the room, watching the little group on the bed with what appeared to be a mixture of fondness and longing. Yennefer took one look at his expression and sighed.

“Get over here,” she said. Jaskier nodded. Geralt, after a moment’s hesitation, obeyed.

His approach was slow and silent. When he came within a few paces, the kitten stirred, looking up at him with his ears slightly flattened. Geralt froze. Jaskier hushed him and scratched him under the chin, while Yennefer kept her hand resting on its back. That seemed to do the trick. The kitten settled back down into Yennefer’s arms. Jaskier gestured Geralt closer, and at his behest, the witcher sat down cautiously on Yennefer’s other side.

The kitten was still awake and watching Geralt with a little bit of wariness, but he did not seem overly bothered by the witcher’s presence. Jaskier internally cheered.

“You can pet him,” he whispered to Geralt.

“I don’t want to scare him,” Geralt said again.

“You won’t. Yennefer and I will help.”

A little bit of Yennefer’s uncertainty returned. “I can try, but—”

Jaskier waved her off. “Nonsense. He already likes you. Go ahead, Geralt.”

Geralt hesitated. “But—”

Jaskier rolled his eyes. “You can make fun of me if I’m wrong. I take responsibility for any and all kitten-related disasters. Go ahead.”

Geralt huffed, amused. Jaskier hid his smile by looking down at the kitten.

Slowly, Geralt crouched down so his head was more or less level with the kitten. He swallowed, reached out, and gently ran his head down the kitten’s neck and back.

“Mew?” said the kitten. He looked up at Geralt. He blinked.

“Keep going,” said Jaskier softly.

Geralt stroked the kitten again. When he did not panic or run away, Geralt did it again.

“He’s soft,” he whispered, entranced.

“Yeah,” said Yennefer, her voice equally quiet.

They both stared down at the kitten, who was content in Yennefer’s arms as Geralt stroked him. The kitten looked very small and helpless beneath Geralt’s big hands, but did not seem particularly bothered by that fact. Jaskier felt himself growing a little teary-eyed at the sight.

“Do you want to hold him?” Yennefer asked after a few moments.

Geralt’s eyes went wide. He glanced at Jaskier, nervous. “Do you think I can?”

“I do,” said Jaskier. “He already likes you, see?”

He gestured at the kitten, who was meowing in quiet protest at the fact that Geralt was no longer petting him. Geralt looked back at him. His face softened.

“I suppose,” he said. He looked up at Yennefer, then back at Jaskier. “Will you help me?”

Yennefer nodded.

“Of course,” said Jaskier. “Here, Yen, you can hand him to Geralt just like how you picked him up. Just support his weight— yeah, there you go. Geralt, you do the same thing.”

After a few moments of fumbling and a few disgruntled mewls from the kitten, Yennefer managed to deposit him in Geralt’s hands. Jaskier had been correct; he could have sat on just one of Geralt’s hands without too much trouble. Geralt was carefully cupping him with both of his anyway. The sight made Jaskier struggle not to dissolve into an unhelpful puddle of affection.

“What now?” asked Geralt, sounding almost as nervous as he had when Ciri first asked him to help her with her hair.

“You can put him in your lap, if you want,” said Jaskier. “You might want to get comfortable, though. Cats don’t always like to move once they have a nice person to sit on.”

After glancing at the bed consideringly, Yennefer crawled up to lean against the rather rickety headboard and patted the spot beside her. “Come on. I think we can all fit.”

Jaskier scooted up to sit near her, leaving space for Geralt between them. Geralt glanced up at them, then down at the kitten in his hands. The kitten had started to nibble on one of his fingers. After a moment of consideration, Geralt cautiously got to his knees on the bed and hobbled over to them, being careful to keep the kitten from being jostled. He settled in between Jaskier and Yennefer and set the kitten gently in his lap. The kitten flailed a little at the new position, but it took only a few moments for him to settle on one of Geralt’s thighs.

“Keep petting him,” Jaskier said encouragingly.

Geralt obeyed. On his other side, Jaskier saw Yennefer resting her head on Geralt’s shoulder and looking down at the kitten. For several moments, the three of them sat in content silence. Then—

“It’s vibrating,” said Geralt, sounding adorably terrified.

“Oh!” said Jaskier, delighted. Now that he was paying attention, he could hear the faintest of rumbling sounds from the kitten. “He’s purring, Geralt. That means he feels safe and content. He’s happy.”

“Oh,” said Geralt. His voice was filled with awe.

“We made him do that?” asked Yennefer. She spoke softly, as though trying not to interrupt the kitten’s purrs.

“Yeah,” said Jaskier, matching her tone, “We did.”

Yennefer smiled. It was not an expression of triumph or of power, not assured or sarcastic. It was not the smile she liked to show to the world. It was small and soft, tender and a little uncertain. It was directed at a small ball of orange fluff lounging in a witcher’s lap. Jaskier knew at that moment that no song he could write would come close to describing her beauty.

“I wonder where his family is,” Yennefer mused after a long few moments of content silence. “He can’t have gotten here all by himself, can he?”

“We can ask the innkeeper tomorrow,” said Jaskier. “Looks like he’s alone at the moment, though.”

“He isn’t,” said Geralt.

Jaskier blinked. “Please don’t tell me there are more cats hiding under the bed and you didn’t tell us, Geralt.”

“No.” Geralt looked rather embarrassed. “I just meant… we’re here. So he isn’t alone.”

Jaskier gave the kitten a thoughtful look. “I suppose that’s true.”

Yennefer looked back and forth between Jaskier. A small frown appeared on her face.

“He might have a family,” she said. “You can’t just take him.”

“I wasn’t going to!” Jaskier protested. “I just think he can stay with us tonight, is all.”

Yennefer looked at him skeptically. “That’s what you said when we found you trying to hide a baby griffin in your backpack.”

“That was one time—”

“It was extremely memorable and also idiotic. I am not letting you live it down anytime soon.”

Geralt casually removed one hand from the kitten to cover Jaskier’s mouth, muffling his indignant response and reducing his words to spluttering. Yennefer giggled at the sight, and Jaskier felt the fight drain out of him at the sound. Sensing his surrender, Geralt removed his hand and started to pet the kitten again before it could stop purring.

“The griffin thing was stupid, but this isn’t a griffin,” Geralt said diplomatically. “I think he can stay the night if he wants to.”

Yennefer subsided. “I don’t see why not.”

The kitten mewled a little. The three of them glanced down to see him resettling himself on Geralt’s legs, apparently having decided that he could make himself more comfortable than he already had.

“We’re going to have to move him eventually,” said Yennefer reluctantly. “We need to sleep somehow.”

Jaskier considered that for a few moments. “Maybe we can put him on one of the pillows. As long as no one rolls over in their sleep, he should be all right.”

Geralt looked doubtfully at the bed. The three them of sitting side by side were already rather squished.

Jaskier rolled his eyes in Geralt’s direction. “I don’t see you offering any better ideas.”

“I think we can make it work,” said Yennefer. “We’ve slept in smaller places.”

“All right,” said Geralt.

“I suppose we should lie down, then,” said Jaskier. Though he was reluctant to break the moment, he was still sleepy and knew that they needed to rest if they wanted to get anything done the next day.

After a few moments of shuffling and some rather disgruntled sounds from the kitten, they managed to get settled in a way that was comfortable for everyone. Geralt was on his side with an arm thrown over Jaskier’s waist. Jaskier was on his back so that Yennefer could lie half on top of him in the way she sometimes preferred. The kitten was curled up on a pillow behind Yennefer’s head. Jaskier’s arm was around Yennefer’s shoulders to keep her from rolling over in the night and crushing the kitten. 

Yennefer was warm and heavy on top of Jaskier. Geralt’s breathing was slow against his side. Jaskier drifted off within moments, feeling safe, loved, and content.

  ~

  The next morning, Jaskier was awakened by tiny and very sharp claws kneading directly on his bladder.

He yelped and flailed, trying to sit up. He was not very successful. This was mostly due to the fact that his right arm was trapped under a warm body and there was a thigh pinning his legs down. The kneading continued. Jaskier squirmed again, more frantically. He tried to free his arm to remove the pressure on his bladder, but—

Yennefer yelped as she went tumbling off the bed and thumped onto the floor.

Geralt sat up like a shot, looking around frantically and reaching for a sword on his back that was not there. Jaskier, now free, wasted no time in sitting up and gently but firmly removing the kitten from his person.

Geralt glanced between Jaskier, the kitten, and Yennefer, who had managed to sit up enough for her head to poke up above the edge of bed.

“...What?” asked Geralt weakly.

“Yeah, Jaskier, what the fuck?” asked Yennefer.

She clambered back onto the bed, giving Jaskier her most ferocious glare. The effect was slightly ruined by her spectacular bedhead.

Jaskier gestured emphatically with the kitten in his hands. “This fucker was poking me!”

Geralt frowned. “Why did that mean Yen had to fall out of the bed?”

“She was trapping my arm. I was desperate. Sorry, Yen.”

Yennefer glared at him. “I could turn you into a toad.”

“Listen, if I hadn’t removed him from my bladder we would have had a much worse situation on our hands.”

Yennefer looked at Jaskier’s apologetic face. She looked at Geralt’s expression of confusion and fond exasperation. She looked at the kitten, who looked distinctly unrepentant.

Unable to help herself, she dissolved into giggles. Jaskier was rather alarmed for a moment — had she just come up with a magnificent punishment for him? His face must have done something interesting, because Yennefer looked at him and started to laugh even harder. Behind Jaskier, Geralt chuckled a little as well.

“How did he even get to your stomach?” he asked. “He would have had to crawl over Yen’s head without waking her.”

Jaskier looked thoughtfully at the kitten. “He’s a master of stealth, I suppose.”

That sent Yennefer off into another round of laughter. Jaskier found himself unable to keep from joining her with his own helpless giggles.

Geralt looked between the two of them and shook his head fondly.

“I’m going to get us breakfast,” he said, leaving them to their merriment.

Jaskier and Yennefer had caught their breath and mostly regained their composure by the time Geralt returned with some food. Yennefer had the kitten in her lap and was petting him absently. He looked very happy with himself.

“I asked the innkeeper about him,” said Geralt, gesturing to the kitten with the hand that was not carrying their food. “She says he’s been hanging around the inn for a week or so, being fed scraps by the guests. No sign of any family, but he seems to be doing well enough. He’s healthy.”

“Is the innkeeper fine with him being here?” asked Yennefer.

“She doesn’t mind him as long as the guests are happy and he keeps some mice away, but she’s had some complaints about him sleeping on beds. She might have to find a way to get rid of him if he doesn’t stop.”

Jaskier looked down at the kitten, pensive. “I hope she doesn’t have to. It would be a shame to keep him away from people if he likes them.”

Yennefer patted Jaskier’s shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

Yennefer reached for the bread that Geralt was carrying and began to eat. Geralt passed another portion to Jaskier. The three of them munched their food contemplatively, looking at the kitten.

“I feel like we should name him,�� mused Jaskier. “Calling him ‘the kitten’ in my head is starting to get weird. I need something to shout when I’m reprimanding him.”

“What do you want to call him, then?” asked Yennefer.

“I don’t know! What do you think?”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, the silence only broken by the kitten’s purrs.

“Well,” said Geralt when no one offered any ideas, “There’s always Ro—“

“No!” shouted Jaskier and Yennefer simultaneously.

Yennefer smacked Geralt’s shoulder. “Not Roach. You can name all the horses you want, but I draw the line at cats.”

Jaskier nodded. “We can think of something better. I believe in us.”

Geralt subsided with a huff. There was another moment of thoughtful silence.

“Cirilla the Second?” suggested Yennefer.

Jaskier flopped back down onto the bed, buried his face in a pillow, and groaned loudly. “I loathe you both.”

“I don’t see you having any better ideas,” Yennefer protested. Jaskier groaned again and rolled onto his back.

“What have I done to deserve this?” he asked the ceiling.

“Is that an insult or a compliment?” asked Yennefer with a smirk.

“It can be both.”

“I’m not so sure. That would require complicated things like nuance and finesse. I am not sure a bard of your caliber could keep up. Perhaps we need someone more practiced, for instance Vald—”

“How about Mackerel?” Geralt said loudly and rather desperately, cutting Yennefer off before disaster could strike.

Jaskier and Yennefer both fell silent. They looked at Geralt. They looked at the kitten. They looked back at Geralt.

“Is your entire repertoire of names made up of fish?” asked Yennefer, and Jaskier burst into laughter.

Geralt looked on with some disgruntlement as Jaskier’s guffaws slowly faded into giggles.

“What?” he asked. “It’s a decent name.”

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “Retrospectively, I’m grateful you didn’t go back to claim Ciri when she was young. The poor girl would have ended up saddled with the name Perch.”

“You are an idiot,” said Jaskier to Geralt. “An utter and complete moron. I love you.”

“Hmm,” Geralt said, flustered.

“Do you have any better names, Jaskier?” asked Yennefer.

“Absolutely not. Mackerel is hilarious. We’re keeping it.”

Yennefer sighed but failed to hide her smile. “Oh, fine.”

They finished their breakfast in companionable silence. When they were finished, they sat on the bed for a while longer. It was comfortable, after all, and they were in no particular hurry. Jaskier determinedly did not think about any other reasons he might have for not wanting to leave the inn.

“We can’t stay here forever,” Geralt said eventually, reluctant.

Yennefer sighed. “Yeah, we’ll have to get going if we want to meet Ciri and Geralt’s idiot brothers in time.”

Jaskier hauled himself to his feet.

“Let’s get to it, then!” he said with false cheer.

With practiced ease, they packed up their things. They were ready to leave within minutes.

They did not leave.

The three of them dithered in the room. Geralt gazed out the window. Yennefer checked corners for anything they might have somehow lost. Jaskier fidgeted with his notebook.

“Well,” said Yennefer, “I suppose it’s time to go.”

She went to stand in the doorway. Geralt and Jaskier joined her.

None of them moved.

They looked back at the kitten, who was once again on the bed. Mackerel looked back at them. He meowed.

Yennefer heaved a deep, longsuffering sigh. “We’re taking him with us, aren’t we?”

Geralt sighed. “We might.”

Jaskier whooped so loudly that it startled Mackerel. He darted back to the bed and scooped the kitten up in his arms. Mackerel mewled in complaint.

Jaskier stroked his head in apology. “Sorry for startling you, darling, but you’ll be much happier about it soon. You’re coming with us! You’ll get to see the continent. You’ll get to experience all sorts of varied and delightful table scraps. It’ll be lovely.”

Across the room, Jaskier heard Yennefer trying to stifle a laugh. He ignored her.

“You’ll get to meet so many people,” he said to Mackerel. “You’ll get to explore the world. You can meet our family, too—”

Jaskier cut himself off with a gasp and turned to Geralt and Yennefer, his eyes shining. “Ciri is going to love him!”

“Oh,” said Yennefer with a grin. “Oh, she really will. This is going to be great.”

Jaskier nodded enthusiastically. “This is going to be the best decision we’ve ever made, I can feel it.”

“What do kittens eat?” Geralt asked reasonably, looking rather exasperated at their antics. “We can’t just let him starve.”

“We’ll figure it out,” said Jaskier. “He can’t be that hard to feed.”

Yennefer nodded. “He’s been living off scraps and what he can catch so far. I’m sure he’ll be all right.”

“It’ll be dangerous on the path,” said Geralt.

Jaskier scoffed. “Mackerel is a smart cat. He can take care of himself.”

Geralt looked as though he might protest again, but at that moment, Mackerel meowed. Geralt looked down at the tiny ball of fur in Jaskier’s arms. Jaskier saw the exact moment Geralt’s last arguments drained away in the face of the adorable creature in front of him.

“I suppose he can come,” said Geralt with a sigh.

Jaskier whooped again. Mackerel meowed. Yennefer laughed. Geralt, seemingly despite himself, smiled.

The three of them shouldered their packs, Jaskier passing Mackerel to Geralt to free his hands. They left their room. On their way out of the inn, Yennefer stopped to let the innkeeper know they were taking Mackerel while Geralt retrieved Roach from the stables. The innkeeper seemed happy enough with the idea and waved at them with a smile as they left. 

They set off on the Path, with Geralt leading Roach and Yennefer and Jaskier walking beside him. It was just like any other day in the last week — except this time, there was a tiny orange head poking out of one of Roach’s saddlebags, and Yennefer was having a hard time suppressing a smile. Even Geralt looked visibly content. 

Jaskier’s lovers were happy. They had, somehow, despite everything, adopted a cat. Despite Yennefer and Geralt’s persistent issues with attachment and commitment, they had agreed to take a kitten with them on their travels for no reason other than sentiment and sympathy. Jaskier was so very proud of them. 

Stopping at that inn was the best decision they ever made. 

[some-october-in-the-future]

Geraskier Fic Rec May 2023

Hello lovely people! I've decided to start my fic rec lists with some Witcher fic focusing on Geralt/Jaskier (Geraskier). I started reading Geraskier fic about three years ago and I'll probably never get tired of this pairing. The below list are some of my favorite fics I've stumbled upon throughout my time in the fandom - I hope you enjoy them! If there are any you think should be added (or you just have good recs) please feel free to send them my way, I'm always looking for new fic! And if you decide to read any of these, please heed the tags on ao3; some deal with topics not everyone wants to read about.

(The first two are probably my favorite Geraskier fics ever)

(if you like any of these let me know let's geek out together)

A Blessing, A Curse by aileenrose, E, 12.6k

"For a while, Jaskier doesn’t know he’s cursed. It feels like free will, going back down that mountain, just as dangerous down as the way up, and alone this time, too. The descent is fast, maybe even reckless, but Jaskier’s feeling numb and out-of-sorts anyways, Geralt’s words simmering in his mind, and at the time it doesn’t feel like he’s being pulled on by anything but his own desire to get away."

Based off a post that Geralt's words on the mountain are granted by the djinn.

one foot in sea by theundiagnosable, E, 23.5k

“Well, that’s a separate issue entirely, isn’t it?” Jaskier says, clearly enthused by being taken on. “I’m opposed to marriage on principle. Would you like to know why?”

“No,” says Geralt.

“I’ll tell you why,” says Jaskier.

to render it transparent by theundiagnosable, E, 24k

Geralt wakes up warm, peaceful, and utterly content, which is how he knows that something is severely wrong.

another dawn by alittlebitmaybe, T, 8k

“Well, we’ll have all the time in the world to make it official, right after we check out this—what was it?”

Geralt side eyes him. “Abandoned cottage. Disappearances. Strange sightings.”

“Right, yes, after we deal with this mysterious hut deep in the woods. No problem. Days and weeks and years aplenty after that."

all that was good, all that was fair (all that was me is gone) by xdandelionxbloomx, M, 7.5k

Somewhere, deep in a forest, a man drags himself from his grave by sheer power of will. He lies gasping on the forest floor and does not know who or what he is. The world is wide and wonderful, though, and there is so much to see.

Or, Jaskier is so stubborn that he literally comes back from the dead.

Shadowplay by sospes, M, 26.5k

Geralt returns to Oxenfurt on a bright May morning to find flowers laid outside Jaskier's rooms and a fresh grave in the cemetery.

Except, as Geralt is about to learn, in Jaskier's world things are never quite what they seem.

Bad Moon Rising by sharkhette, Not Rated, 9k

Jaskier had never expected it would be Geralt trying to kill him. Sure, the witcher liked to threaten as much, but they both knew he'd never make good on it. They were friends, whatever Geralt said.

But friends didn't try to rip each other's throats out with their teeth.

Or, Geralt returns from a hunt acting strange.

Valley of Plenty by aileenrose, E, 40.6k

Geralt's brother has died, and now he is raising a child on his own. The last thing he needs is an annoying sous-chef who won't leave him alone.

Or, a variously loose and faithful adaptation of the classic rom-com No Reservations.

The god of scraped knees. by spqr, M, 8k

Jaskier’s been pretending to be human for so long now that he hardly remembers what it feels like to be a sorcerer. He doesn’t want to remember what it feels like to be a sorcerer. But people still murmur his name with reverence in certain dim halls; Dandelion, Dandelion, destroyer of worlds. 

Lessons in Losing by didoandis, E, 11k

“We met five years ago or thereabouts,” Geralt says through gritted teeth. “You came up to me in a tavern near Posada, decided I would be good song material, and we’ve travelled together, off and on, ever since.”

“Huh,” Jaskier says.

“You remember?” Geralt tries to keep the note of hope out of his voice, and doubts he’s been successful.

“Not in the slightest,” Jaskier says cheerfully. “But I must admit it sounds like something I’d do.”

When Jaskier forgets their life together, Geralt learns an unexpected lesson.

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

First Of Her Name

The first two chapters of my long-delayed birthday fic for @handwrittenhello are up! It's a Geraskefer warlord!Yennefer fic featuring role reversals, arranged marriages, kidnapping, and pining.

Rating: E

Warnings: graphic depictions of violence; canonical child death in prologue

Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer; Geralt/Yennefer; Jaskier/Yennefer

Summary: Fifteen years after deposing the kings of Aedirn and Lyria and being crowned the Warlord of the North, Yennefer has everything she could want: power, security, and an only moderately irritating lover, her court mage, Jaskier. But she's taken off guard when Queen Visenna of Rivia offers Yennefer her youngest son’s hand in marriage. Yennefer is skeptical, until she meets Prince Geralt and his daughter, Ciri, and is fonder of both of them than she expected.

But as they begin to plan for a wedding, it becomes increasingly clear that someone wants to stop Yennefer and Geralt’s marriage. And they’re not picky about who they need to hurt to make that happen.

You can read the prologue and the first scene of chapter one below the cut or find the entirety of the first two chapters here on AO3!

Prologue

Yennefer fucking hates portals.

Her stomach lurches as she drops to her knees in the sand, clutching the Lyrian princess to her chest. She just barely manages not to heave.

“Oh, fuck,” the Lyrian court mage says behind her as he closes the portal. “Oh, shit.”

The scent of blood is cloying and the baby in Yennefer’s arms has no heartbeat.

“Is she—” the mage—Yennefer never bothered learning his name—starts to ask.

Yennefer lowers the princess to the sand. The little face is pale and still, her silken swaddle stained with blood. “She’s gone.”

The mage curses and drops to his knees next to Yennefer, brushing her away as he places his hands over the infant and begins to chant in Elder. Yennefer sits back, catching her breath and cataloging her injuries. She has a gash in her arm from the krallach’s claws and another in her back from where the assassin’s blade barely missed burying itself between her ribs. It could have been worse, she knows. At least she’s not dead in some far away desert, like Kalis.

“Fuck.” The mage lets his hands fall away and closes his eyes. “What do we—”

Yennefer brings a blade to his throat, resting the tip of it against his Adam’s apple. “Did you know?”

He swallows hard and a bead of blood wells under the top of her dagger. “No.”

“You’re King Villem’s court mage,” Yennefer reminds him. “And you didn’t know that he was planning on killing his wife and daughter?”

“Of course not!” The mage’s heart is hammering so hard that Yennefer can’t tell if he’s lying. His sweet honeysuckle smell is shot through with lingering fear, despair, and anger. “Do you think I would just sit there while a baby was getting murdered?”

“Every Ban Ard fucker I’ve ever known would feed a baby to the Lionheaded Spider itself for power.”

“I see you’ve met Stregobor.”

Yennefer can’t help but snort.

Blue eyes open and fix on her face. “I didn’t know anything about what Villem was planning. I’ve been at his court for five years and he’s never trusted me with anything more advanced than enchanting the ceiling of the throne room. He’s never liked me, to be honest. I think he thought Kalis and I were fucking.”

“Were you?”

“No, but not from her lack of trying. I may be an idiot, but I’m not enough of an idiot to fuck the queen.” The mage smiles shakily and Yennefer wonders if he’s as young as he looks, no older than twenty-five. “If you’re still thinking about slitting my throat, I’d like to remind you that I just portaled all over the damn Continent trying to keep you alive.”

“And to keep yourself alive.”

“I won’t apologize for not wanting to get ripped apart by a giant bug.” He shudders.

Yennefer doesn’t put the knife away, but she sits back, putting space between them. His shoulders sag with relief. “I think you may need a new job,” she tells him.

The mage lets out a humorless laugh. “I definitely need a new job. That assassin was supposed to kill me too.”

“I noticed.”

“You saved my life.”

“I did.”

He wipes his bloodstained hands on his doublet. “I’m Jaskier.”

“Yennefer.”

“School of the Raven?”

“What gave it away?”

“I’ll admit, I haven’t met many witchers, but I don’t think the witchers from any of the other schools are quite so beautiful.”

Yennefer doesn’t bother hiding her eye roll. “Wait until you’re not covered in blood and ichor before you try flirting badly.”

“Badly? Madam, I’ll have you know, I’m an experienced and accomplished flirt.”

Ignoring him, Yennefer scoops the baby up in her arms, turning away.

“Where are you going?” Jaskier calls after her.

“I’m going to bury the babe,” Yennefer tells him. “And then I’m going to go back to Vengerberg, get my horse, and get the fuck out of this kingdom.”

“You should absolutely not go back to Vengerberg.”

Yennefer turns to glare at him. “And why not?”

Jaskier gives her an incredulous look. “Because do you think it was a coincidence that they hired a witcher to escort a transport with the queen and the princess when the king was planning on having his wife and daughter slaughtered?”

“It was King Virfuril who hired me,” Yennefer tells him. “Not Villem.”

“Virfuril, who is actively negotiating a treaty with Villem and just happens to have a daughter who just came of marriageable age. I would bet my left nipple that the two of them came up with this plan together. Kill the queen, the spare princess, and the inconvenient court mage, frame the witcher, and let Villem marry the young, fertile princess of Aedirn.”

Yennefer feels ice settle in her chest. It makes a terrible sort of sense. “Those fuckers.”

“If you go back to Vengerberg, all that waits for you in the gallows.” Jaskier looks at her with such sympathy that it makes her want to stab him. “I’m sorry.”

Yennefer has been on the Path for thirty years. She’s very used to the bullshit that humans throw at her and the bullshit that nobles like to throw is usually the worst. She’s been chased by angry mobs, had poison slipped into her food and her bathwater, and has been lured into more traps than she can count. But this is the first time that a royal has had it out for her.

Fuck, she never should have taken this job; she’s a witcher, not a damn royal babysitter. But a thousand crowns to escort Queen Kalis from Vengerberg to Lyria was too good to pass up. After several contracts that didn’t pay and nearly losing her arm to a wyvern last month, she needed the coin. In retrospect, it was far too cushy of a contract; she should have been suspicious from the start.

And Yennefer knows where this will go, because she’s seen it before. They won’t be able to catch her; she’ll slip out of Aedirn without discovery and then the next witcher who passes through will be hung in her stead. Probably a Wolf, since their keep is just north of here in Kaedwen. That may not be her problem, but the thought of another witcher dying in her stead leaves a bitter taste in her mouth.

“You saved my life,” Jaskier says. “I owe you. Tell me where you want to go, and I’ll portal there.”

Yennefer looks down at the still, pale babe in her arms. Only a few months old, dead before she’d said her first word or taken her first step. All because a greedy fool of a king wants to marry a girl young enough to be his daughter. “Take me to Vengerberg.”

Jaskier’s eyes widen. “I thought we’d established that King Virfuril—”

Yennefer flashes him a smile, displaying her too-sharp incisors. “King Virfuril and I need to have a chat.”

***

One: Raven

Fifteen years later

It’s Jaskier who breaks the news to Yennefer as they lie together in the enormous four-poster that has never quite felt like hers, not even after all these years. She’s lying on her stomach next to him, eyes closed while he runs his fingers down her back, calloused fingertips tracing over the scars left by three decades on the Path and fifteen years as the so-called Raven of Vengerberg, Warlord of the North.

“Are you fucking joking?” Yennefer lifts her head from the pillow to gaze incredulously at him.

Jaskier is unfazed by her annoyance, as he usually is. “The Queen of Rivia wants to form a marriage alliance,” he says again, more slowly this time. “She’s offered her fourth son’s hand in marriage.”

“To me ?”

“Quite frankly, you could do better, but marriage offers aren’t exactly lining up right now.”

“I don’t consider that a problem.” Yennefer sits up, dislodging him. “What the fuck am I supposed to do with the fourth son of the queen of a vassal state?”

Jaskier smiles wickedly. “I suppose it depends on how good-looking he is.”

Yennefer throws a pillow at him. He makes it vanish in mid-air with a flick of his finger, the bastard.

“Like I was saying,” Jaskier says without missing a beat, blinking those impossibly blue eyes at her. He claims that his eyes were just as blue before his Ascension, but she’s never believed him. “Prince Geralt is thirty years old, Queen Visenna’s youngest son, known for being an avid horseman and exceptional swordsman—”

“You sound like a matchmaking aunt.”

“I feel like a matchmaking aunt, dearest.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes and grabs her dressing gown from where she discarded it on the ground earlier. She’s rarely self-conscious about her nakedness, particular in front of the man she’s been fucking for the better part of the past decade and a half, but this seems like the type of conversation best had clothed. “And why are you bringing this up now?”

“It was Tissaia’s idea. She thought the afterglow might sweeten your mood.”

“When has being in your presence ever sweetened my mood?”

“Fair point. A rare misstep on her part.” He shoots her a crooked grin and presses a kiss to her shoulder blade.

Yennefer just manages not to lean into the touch. “My empire spans Lyria, Aedirn, Kaedwen, Caingorn, and Kovir. What the fuck can this Prince Gerard—”

“Geralt.”

“What can Prince Geralt do for me?”

“Rivia’s a country that’s rich in resources,” Jaskier says. “And I think it would behoove us to start having a more… diplomatic approach to foreign relations.”

“Isn’t that what we’ve been doing with the whole not conquering those fucks in Redania, Temeria, and Cintra?”

She can feel the quirk of his lips against her skin. “I think we can do better than ‘don’t fuck up, or we’ll invade you and slaughter your nobility.’ A marriage alliance shows that you’re willing to reach out to other kingdoms. To work with them. To meet them halfway.”

“Ugh.” Yennefer hates diplomacy.

“And then there’s the matter of his first marriage.”

“Oh, so not only is he a fourth son, but I’ll be a second wife?”

“Prince Geralt’s first wife was Princess Pavetta of Cintra.”

Yennefer turns around to face her lover. “You should have led with that.”

Jaskier looks very smug, like he always does when he’s captured an audience’s attention. She often thinks that if he hadn’t become a mage, he would have ended up a traveling minstrel. Or perhaps a jester. “They caused a bit of a scandal when they ran off together. He was seventeen and she was fifteen. Calanthe had a marriage alliance all set with some jarl’s son from Skellige, but Pavetta had other plans. If it hadn’t been for the baby, Calanthe probably would have declared war on Rivia and taken the boy’s head.”

“Baby?”

“Princess Cirilla of Cintra, born only six months after her parents’ marriage. She’s twelve years old now. After Pavetta died at sea, she’s bounced back and forth between Rivia and Cintra.”

“How did I miss all this?”

“We were conquering Kovir the year Geralt and Pavetta married and there was an uprising in Lyria the year Pavetta died. You were busy with the warlording, dearest.”

Yennefer sighs. “Aren’t I always?”

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement. “Rumor has it that there’s tension between Queen Calanthe and Prince Geralt over the girl’s future.”

“I take it he doesn’t want her married off at fifteen to a Skelligan jarl?”

“I imagine that’s part of it, yes.” Jaskier leans back, reclining on the pillows like he expects a scantily-clad serving girl to come along and start feeding him grapes. “Cintra has been a thorn in our side since the start. Having the next Queen of Cintra as your stepdaughter will help us form an alliance with them once Calanthe’s shriveled heart finally gives out. And can you imagine the look on Calanthe’s face when she finds out that her former son-in-law is marrying a witcher, and a part-elf witcher to boot? That might be enough to kill her.”

Yennefer can’t stop a slow smile from creeping across her face. “I thought you wanted me to be diplomatic.”

“I do.” He nods. “But I also like the idea of you pissing off Calanthe in a way that will leave her helpless to retaliate. What is she going to do, declare war on the largest empire in the Northern Kingdoms because you married her dead daughter’s widower? It would make her look petty and vindictive, not like the Lioness of Cintra persona she’s tried so hard to build.”

It’s easy to forget sometimes that Jaskier is a Ban Ard-trained mage. He presents the image of the fop with his silly doublets, floppy hair, and ever-present lute, but he’s actually got some sense under all the peacocking. She didn’t trust him as far as she could throw him in the early days of their acquaintance. Still, she invited him into her bed because he had pretty eyes and a wicked tongue and she knew a good lay when she saw one. And by the time he threw himself between her and an assassin’s blade six months later, she knew she had his loyalty. And in the years since, it’s never wavered.

Her eyes travel to the silver ring on his pinky finger. He’s fidgeting with it, like he often does when he’s deep in thought. It looks like a plain band at first glance, but there’s a raven’s head engraved on the inside. The ring is linked to her medallion, a charm that Jaskier put in place after she was briefly captured during the conquering of Kovir. No matter where she is on the Continent, Jaskier will always be able to portal to her. There’s no one else she would trust with something like that. Peacock or no, she knows she can trust him to have her best interests at heart.

“Do you think I should do it?” she asks quietly.

Jaskier sits up, pinning her with that too-blue gaze. “I think that you’ve built yourself a vast and impressive empire here, Yennefer. You’re the most powerful person on the Continent. But you need allies, or someday, you will meet an enemy you won’t be able to take on yourself. Prince Geralt may not be that big of a catch on his own, but the potential of a future alliance with Rivia and Cintra could potentially save us a good deal of headaches in the future, especially if Emhyr starts to turn his attentions towards the Northern Kingdoms.”

Yennefer groans. She knows Nilfgaard is going to become a pain in her ass one of these days.

“And of course, have you seen Queen Visenna?” Jaskier waggles his eyebrows. “If her son is half as attractive, you should sign whatever marriage contract they put in front of you.”

Yennefer huffs in exasperation. “You’re an incorrigible lech.”

“Something you had no complaints about twenty minutes ago,” he says with a leer, then abruptly sobers. “By all accounts, he’s a good man with a steady head on his shoulders that dotes on his daughter and his horse. You could do worse.”

Yennefer hates it when he gets serious with her. It’s highly inconvenient. “I’ll think about it.”

***

Read the rest here on AO3!

[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.

[thedemonofcat]

The curse had been cast so long ago that Jaskier couldn't recall his original form. He only remembered that he used to be something deeply connected to nature. Yet, a curse had transformed him into a human, erasing his memories of what he once was.

Jaskier grew up among humans, never knowing his true origins. His love for music led him to become a bard, instinctively drawn to the melodies that seemed to echo from his forgotten past.

When Geralt first meets Jaskier, he dismisses him as just another traveling bard. Although Geralt senses something off about him, he assumes that Jaskier might have some elven heritage. However, as they journey together, Geralt begins to realize there's more to Jaskier than meets the eye—something ancient, powerful, and far removed from humanity.

[bookgeekgrrl]

My media this week (23-29 Jul 2023)

📚 STUFF I READ 📚

🥰 The Rift (seapigeon) - 53K, modern college no powers AU - there's witchcraft and ghosts and curses and art student steve and science nerd bucky and it was all very good!

😍 Six Kids and a Winnebago series (Oddree13) - 91K, omegaverse Steddie - this series is a thoroughly delightful domestic omegaverse(lite) set post s4 - excellent characterizations, great sense of time/place & really fantastic music references

🥰 Longing and Belonging (enjambament) - 44K, geraskier - governess!Jaskier, lots of great family stuff with Ciri & Yen [reread, a definite fave]

😍 if I'm gonna get back to you someday (napricot) - 46K, post Endgame fixit with "a clusterfuck of Steves" from different multiverses - so many good emotions!

😊 Roommate Wanted (Lihhelsing, tinkerbclla) - 66K, modern Steddie roommates-to-lovers, part epistolary with a dash of identity porn

💖💖 +110K of shorter fic so shout out to these I really loved 💖💖

the premature awakening of Bucky Barnes [at the hands of stupid, sexy, Post-run Steve] (MaddieWritesStucky (Madeleine_Ward)) - MCU: stucky, 3K - modern no powers stucky, several months on in the relationship between stripper!Bucky & architecht Steve [reread]

Galatea (saltandbyrne) - Inception: Arthur/Eames, 16K - a very good and delightfully melancholic modern myth telling

Shelter Case (Coragyps) - Suits: Mike/Harvey, 7K - futuristic dark dystopian omegaverse [reread]

Let Me Keep You (LeeHan) - MCU: stucky, 4K - Steve's oral fixation PWP  [reread]

📺 STUFF I WATCHED 📺

D20: Adventuring Party - s1, e15-18

D20: A Crown of Candy - s5, e15-17

Good Omens - s2, e1-6

🎧 PODCASTS 🎧

What Next: TBD Plus - Why Tech Lays Women Off First

⭐ Wiser Than Me with Julia Louis-Dreyfus - Julia Gets Wise with Jane Fonda

Fire Island: The Tea - Thomás Matos

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 1991: "Mind Playing Tricks on Me" by Geto Boys

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 1993: "Hip Hop Hooray" by Naughty by Nature

Hot and Bothered - Live from Pemberley: The 2005 Movie (with Helen Zaltzman and Jenny Owen Youngs)

Re: Dracula - July 24: There Will be Some Trouble

Rachel Maddow Presents: Déjà News - Episode 6: “Hello America, this is Addis Ababa.”

50 MPH - 7 MPH / A Crash Course in Jan De Bont (with Bilge Ebiri)

⭐ Endless Thread - Best of Summer: The Loudest Sound

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Mapping the Gay Guides

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Spaces for Spies

Switched on Pop - Barbie and the plasticity of pop

Shedunnit - Cricket and Crime

Re: Dracula - July 26: Just Starting for Home

Ologies with Alie Ward - Sciuridology (SQUIRRELS) with Karen Munroe

Stuff The British Stole - The Fever Tree Hunt

The Waves Plus - How a Drag Queen Recreated the American Dream

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Knight’s Spider Web Farm

The Atlas Obscura Podcast - Amazon Night Hikes

Our Opinions Are Correct - Encore Episode: We're in the wrong timeline, with Connie Willis and R.F. Kuang

99% Invisible #546 - The Country of the Blind

50 Years of Hip-Hop - 1981: "Rapture" by Blondie

⭐ Decoder Ring Plus - A Brief History of Making Out

Twenty Thousand Hertz+ - Zelda: A Beep to the Past

Dear Prudence Plus - My Boyfriend Hid His Hobby From Me—Civil War Reenactments. Help!

⭐ Into It - Country Music’s Race Problem

What Next: TBD Plus - Washington vs. A.I.

Rivals: Music's Greatest Feuds - Robbie Robertson vs. Levon Helm: Broken Band

Re: Dracula - July 28: Four Days in Hell

Re: Dracula - July 29: Another Tragedy

Hit Parade Plus - The Bridge: Don’t Believe Me, Just Watch

⭐ Strong Songs - "Killing Me Softly With His Song," as sung by Lauryn Hill, Roberta Flack, & Lori Lieberman

Wait Wait… Don't Tell Me! - WWDTM: Randall Park

Fire Island: The Tea - Bambi Sue: Dredging Up the Past

🎶 MUSIC 🎶

Presenting The Who

People Just Wanna Have Fun [Kool & The Gang] {2023}

The Beach Boys Radio • Popular

"One Thing Leads To Another" [The Fixx] Radio

Dream Theater

Presenting Bruno Mars

[practically-an-x-man]

I just finished my Star Wars fic and need help choosing which idea to start writing next!

Longer descriptions will be below the poll!

When he runs into an enchanting woman on the shore of the river, it seems like he's run into the chance of a lifetime. And the seahorse tattooed on his wrist says she might really be the one... but she's a siren, destined to chew him up and spit him out. And sirens cannot love. Can they? It's said to be an unbreakable curse, but legends often lie. (VERY LONG)

2. Call this an origin story. Years before the events of Deadpool - before he was Ajax at all - he seemed to have everything lined up for him. He met Atlanta Santiago in a bar, fell in love, and the rest is history... until he's diagnosed with early-onset Huntington's and has no choice but to chance the mutant warehouse in the hopes of a cure. How does a villain become a villain... and is reformation ever possible for a man like him? (LONG)

3. Of course the mission went wrong. The Son is dead, the case is gone, and the White Death is just a few stops away. What else is new? Citron joined the team two years back, a competent hire that (God knows why) decided to stick around. He tolerates her, sure, about as much as he tolerates anyone he works with. But then she takes a bullet for him. And that... brings things to light. (SHORTER)

4. The Reavers track down a hobbled mutant two steps outside nowhere. Pierce expects it'll be easy. After all, she's injured, weak, covered in blood and tethered to Earth in a way that she never was before. But he recognizes her. Years ago, they'd been inseparable. He can't bring himself to kill her, after everything they've shared in the past. And so he takes a risk, and he takes her home. (MID-LENGTH)

5. After signing onto a new project, he finds a young woman held captive in the back of the lab. They claim she's an oracle, but that's not quite right: she simply peers into memories, brings them to light. All but her own, that is. There's something insidious going on here, and it's a mystery they both need to uncover. (SHORTER)

6. A so-called seer predicts a subway bombing just moments before it occurs, and it's believed she has inside information. The only way for her to escape a lifetime of prison, or worse, is to somehow prove that her visions are genuine - but she can't control her power, and her visions are often close to incomprehensible. She needs help. Legal help, superhero help, anything she can get. (MID-LENGTH)

[bambirex]

how about yennskier + they're trapped in the snow and yen tries to keep them warm with chaos (and maybe she's injured or still regaining her power so the weaker she becomes the colder they get until... 👀)

There's a more nsfw version of this in my head, but I stayed out of horny jail today 😂👀

Warnings: nudity

**

The light kept flickering in and out. Yennefer cursed under her breath as she tried to will her chaos to stay, to stop floating away and leave her at the worst possible time. She hated feeling so helpless, and it wasn't even herself she was so worried about.

Her body could endure harsher conditions, but even she could feel herself trembling from the cold: she could only imagine how a human body felt right now, fragile and utterly vulnerable to this horrible weather.

They managed to find a small hut just in time before the height of the snowstorm came down, but it wasn't enough. It was an old, shattered wooden shed, and the frosty wind whistled through the cracks, not giving them much protection. Yennefer has only regained her powers, and her chaos was still weak: she couldn't conjure a portal and get them somewhere safe and warm. They were trapped in here, half-buried under the snow, and even trying to keep them warm with her remaining powers didn't seem to help much.

Jaskier trembled next to her, his teeth chattering audibly. He was uncharacteristically quiet, which alarmed Yennefer. Even in the most dire situations, he would make silly jokes to try and ease the mood. He was now completely silent, except for his shaky, weak breaths. He hugged his knees close to chest, rolled up into a ball to try and keep some of his body heat.

"Come on, for fuck's sake," Yennefer groaned as the orange glow around her fingers dimmed again. "Do not fucking leave me again!"

The last time her chaos abandoned her, everything went to utter shit. She couldn't handle another repeat of that, especially not when she had another life to worry about. She might survive, but Jaskier wouldn't. She needed to try and stay strong at least for him.

She scooted closer to Jaskier and tried to direct the warmth of her hands towards him. Jaskier gave her a weak smile. His lips lost their usual pink color, and so did his face. He was pale like the snow rampaging outside.

The more her chaos dimmed, the colder Yennefer felt herself get, as well. She released a shaky sigh, curling in on herself. If the magic would fail, her body would, too. She would be just as vulnerable as Jaskier.

"Well, this isn't the way I thought I would go," Jaskier finally said. His voice was so weak, Yennefer could barely hear him over the wind. "Embarassing."

"I'm gonna warm us up, somehow," Yennefer promised, but her voice didn't sound convincing to her ears, either. She leaned even closer to Jaskier, until their bodies touched. Jaskier's body still held some of his warmth, and Yennefer hoped her own did, too, so she could transfer some of it to the bard.

An idea suddenly sprung into her head. She vaguely remembered Geralt telling her about the winters when it was so cold at Kaer Morhen that nothing helped, only huddling for warmth with his wolf brothers. If they wanted to survive this snowstorm, they needed to share their body heat.

Jaskier let out a surprised squeak when Yennefer suddenly wrapped her arms around him, pulling him closer.

"Yennefer, what the hell are you doing? Oh, God," he sighed, shaking his head, "you think we're dying. We're dying and so you're getting all sentimental and hugging me, trying to make up for all the wrongs..."

"What wrongs... Jaskier, I'm trying to keep you warm! We need to stay close to each other."

"Ah. Alright."

Tentatively, Jaskier reached for Yennefer. His arms went around her waist in return, his chin rested on the top of her head. It was nice, Yennefer thought. She soon started feeling warm inside and out; gently, she started rubbing Jaskier's arm, and he tightened his hold on her in return.

Unfortunately, as nice as it was, it didn't last long enough: Jaskier soon started shivering again, his body trembling against Yennefer's. Yennefer realized both their clothes were still wet, and all their shared body heat seeped out as the damp materials, instead of drying, went even colder.

They needed to get rid of those wet rags as soon as possible, because they were only going to make things worse.

Yennefer unbuttoned her blouse quickly, shrugging it off. Jaskier's eyes went wide before he snapped his head away, trying not to stare at Yennefer's naked chest.

"What the fuck!?"

"Get out of your clothes," Yennefer ordered as she got rid of her skirt. The cold air felt uncomfortable against her bare skin. Jaskier made a weird little sound at the back of his throat.

"Woah, that escalated quickly. People usually buy me dinner first."

"Jaskier!"

"I am not getting naked, Yennefer! I'm freezing to death in my warmest coat, you think having my bare arse out would be better!?"

"Our clothes are drenched, we're gonna be even colder if we keep them on! Undress, or I'll tear them off!"

Something flickered in Jaskier's eyes. He bit down on his lip as his trembling fingers got to work, shedding his clothing as quickly as he could. Something about him succumbing to her orders made a strange emotion flutter in Yennefer's chest.

"Do not make this weird," she warned him as she wrapped herself around him. A shiver ran through her body, but it was not because of the cold. Jaskier's skin was terribly cold, but still soft against her own. It was pleasant, and Yennefer found herself burrowing deeper into his embrace.

"Says the woman who ordered me to get naked when there's a literal snowstorm outside," Jaskier chuckled. His voice was already a bit stronger, and his shivering eased up a little. He buried his face in Yennefer's hair, probably to not make her feel like she was being stared at. Yennefer appreciated his kindness.

Actually, she appreciated a lot more. She never would have thought being in Jaskier's arms would feel so wonderful, but right now, Yennefer didn't want to leave.

It was only because she needed to stay warm, she told herself. That was the only reason she liked it.

Combined with the weak flickers of her chaos, they soon warmed in each other's arms. Jaskier's shallow, ragged breathing turned into quiet, almost happy little sighs, and his skin felt much warmer. Yennefer smoothed a hand down his side, only to feel if it really was warm, of course. Not because she wanted more of his bare skin.

"If we survive, I expect you to not tell anyone about this," Yennefer said. "No one needs to find out we were cuddling."

"Naked," Jaskier added. Yennefer felt his grin against her hair. "Also, I thought we were just keeping each other warm. I didn't realize we were cuddling."

The teasing edge in his voice told Yennefer that he was feeling better now. It was now safe to give his arm a smack, so that was what Yennefer did, making Jaskier whine.

All the same, Yennefer smiled into Jaskier's chest. Whether it was about keeping warm, or something else entirely, she couldn't say she didn't enjoy it just a little bit.

[islenthatur]

So first time doing one of these, thanks @dreamofbecoming

Rules: post the top 5 works you’re most proud of that you released in 2022 (not necessarily your most popular), your top 4 current WIPs that you’re excited to release in the new year, your top 3 biggest improvements in your writing over the past year, your top 2 resolutions (ways you wish to improve your writing/blog) for the new year, and your number 1 favorite line you’ve written this year!

Top 5 works:

1. Mark of a Lark - this is one of the first things I began to write for this fandom properly. I had others and OS’s but Mark of a Lark was my first proper foray into Geraskier. 2. Cygnet - this one was written under my other Penname, a twi/witcher fic... it bugged my brain so it was written! 3. A Leshen's Roar - Looki, okay.. this started off as a little tumblr ficlet and people were keen so i wrote this... who doesn’t love Leshen!Jaskier 4. Mark of a Lullaby - So this... who doesn’t love a haunting song. 5. Wylfen Herte- something different, Witcher!Jaskier... tried to go with mysterious and mystical but ended up with this.

Top 4 current wips:

1.     Mark of a Viper need to be finished, gah but writers block and so many other rabid plot bunnies are attacking me.

2.     Mark of a Witcher is in the works, I’ve written and re-written the first chapter so many times as to how it’ll go. Will it be like Mark of a Lark where Jaskier gifts his Witchers things or will it be a Witcher who gifts Jaskier a token of thanks? Who knows!?

3.     Unknown Title: I have a gift exchange that needs to be written but Gerskier is taking over my life.

4.     To be Titled: Thanks to @bamf-jaskier I have a Angst filled Witcher!Jask in blood origins. Same concept, where Jaskier gets sent back in time via singing the song of the Seven, the power to recreate them backfiring and instead of Fjall its Jaskier who turns except he’s more controlled and such. The Seven trains him after everything and the power Jaskier needs to be sent back is gone… he lives forwards, never aging and always longing for Geralt.

Top 3 biggest improvements:

1.     Honestly I don’t really have 3, just the one where I actually got stories out in over a year.

Top 2 resolutions:

1.     *shakes self* FINISH YOUR FICS!

2.     DON’T WRITE MOREEEE!

Top 1 favourite line:

I have way too many… but I guess this can count as one: Vesemir’s Chapter in Mark of a Lark -  "Tell me, Julian, what would it be then? I have heard your songs sung far and wide, and have seen them change the minds of many a being. You may be cursed to be a human, but you still walk the Path, you face the stonings and the prejudices of man, yet you continue on." The old man explained. "I know the type of man you are, a good one, a brave one. You took what happened to you with a grace that would break any other man on the spot."

 Okay lets tag some @spilledbutter @0dde11eth @penandinkprincess

[astaldis]

Nauseous - Creatures of the Night

@whumpers-monthly​

Fandom: The Witcher TV, The Witcher novels

Whumpee: Cahir

Caretaker: Jaskier

Published: 2022-10-0; Completed: 2022-11-11; Words: 22,898; Chapters: 14/14 Rating: Teen And Up Audiences; Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply; Categories: F/M; M/M; MultiF/F 

Summary: While Geralt's Hanza is staying in Beauclair, the famous fall event is coming up. An event the Witcher cannot refuse to take part in, even though he does have to dress up for it. However, not everything goes as planned and the members of the Hanza are in for some surprises. Blame it on the grape punch. Or is it the bard's fault after all?Written for the Witcher Trick or Treat 2022.

Relationships: Geralt of Rivia/Fringilla Vigo;  Anarietta/Jaskier; Angoulême & Anna Henrietta; Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach & Jaskier; Milva & Fringilla Vigo; Geralt of Rivia & Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy; Cahir Mawr Dyffryn aep Ceallach/Jaskier; Geralt of Rivia/Emiel Regis Rohellec Terzieff-Godefroy

Excerpt from Chapter 12 - Too perfect masquerades and mismatched mates

Fuck. His head hurts like seven hells. No, seventeen. At least. Like caught between hammer and anvil with the most powerful Mahakam dwarf wielding the enormous iron tool. Every few seconds causing a crashing boom to explode in his woozy brain. Like the reverberating roll of thunder directly next to his eardrums. Perhaps it is the clap of thunder and not just a figment of his imagination? There were no clouds last he checked but a perfectly clear, dark velvet sky dotted with a million stars and an unusually big and round silver moon. Perfect weather for Toussaint's famous fall masquerade. However, he feels wet. Very wet actually. In between the echoing booms he believes he can hear the patter of water, too. A sudden deluge? Which he was too deeply asleep to even notice? His eyelids are far too heavy to open just yet to check, though. Damn, has he really drunk that much? He remembers a few glasses of freshly made wine and then there was this delicious grape punch ... He must indeed have had a cup too many as he can hardly remember anything else. Or two cups. Three. He moans softly and tries to sit up but immediately lies back down again, this time with a much louder groan, his head spinning and his stomach doing somersaults. Gods, now would be the perfect time for Geralt to kill him ... He groans again. Then, with an effort he forces his sluggish brain to process a few more of the incoming sensory signals from his surroundings. He stiffens. Shit! The perception processed by the few brain cells that are actually working is rather disturbing. Besides feeling cold and wet and - naked??? - he realises that the booming sound is neither in his head nor the roll of thunder but somebody snoring straight into his ear. Darn, there is a hand on his chest, too, that definitely does not belong to him. And another one in a place that is far too indecent to even mention. Cahir racks his brain who the mysterious woman could be that snores like a hog and seems to be lying right next to him. Very closely next to him. Extremely closely next to him. A woman who seems to be as completely naked and wet as he is. However, no matter how much he strains his muddled memory, his mind is totally blank. Not the faintest of faint ideas as to her identity. Fuck. Cursing colourfully in both the common speech and Nilfgaardian - inwardly, mind, as his tongue is much too heavy and his throat far too parched to utter any sound besides a soft groan - Cahir vows to himself - and on the heron as Toissaintois tradition demands - never to drink any alcohol ever again. Then, as in his current situation this is as helpful as shutting the stable doors after the horse has escaped, and wild guesses will not avail to anything either, he decides that there is no way around it - he has to open his eyes.

Very slowly and carefully, Cahir blinks his eyes open. And immediately closes them again. The light is terrifyingly bright. Well, no use moaning, it has to be done if he ever wants to find out where he is and with who. Preferably before this obscure female starts to wake up. Which would give him the chance to run, if necessary. If he can get his legs to work. A very big if. Another soft groan escapes his lips. How he wishes he could just open a portal and get out of here. Preferably to a dark and quiet and dry place with lots of extra soft cushions and warm, fluffy blankets. Where is a bloody sorceress when you really need one? On the other hand, Cahir would definitely not want Fringilla or any other sorceress or, come to think of it, any other person - or non-person - at all to see him like this. Including the person next to him. Shading his eyes with his dripping wet fingers he tries once more to lift his heavy lids. And catches a vague glimpse of the hand on his chest. Slowly it comes into focus. A pretty big and somewhat hairy hand. Gods, who is this woman? And how on earth have they ended up together like this? Stark naked - in a huge puddle of rain? They haven't ...? Gods, please, no. He shudders at the thought. Shit, shit, shit. Maybe it is just a costume, not the unknown lady's real hand?

Suddenly the lady starts to stir. Water splashes around them as she drapes her not only somewhat but decidedly hairy leg over his and moves her lips even closer to his ear.

"Mm, you are truly magnificent, my dear heart," a drowsy voice half-whispers into his ear. A voice Cahir knows. And it is definitely not the one of a woman.

"Jaskier?!" He jolts upright, panicking at the realisation. And at the sound of his own voice. Which is at least one octave too high. Compared to his dangerously low no-nonsense-commander-voice two octaves. Minimum. Fuck, fuck, fuck! Now he remembers. His costume. Fringilla's voice-altering potion. Gosh, what an extraordinarily stupid idea to masquerade as a woman. An idea which seems to have landed him in the hairy arms of Jaskier, the bard, of all people. In the middle of a fucking waterfall? Cahir cannot verify his first vague impression of his surroundings, though, as his stomach somersaults again and he just so manages to turn around and heave himself onto his arms and over the rim of the shallow, water-filled basin they are lying in before he starts to retch convulsively.

"Cahir?" Jaskier asks, staring at his heaving and very naked comrade incredulously, his voice thick with sleep and the last remnants of inebriation. "What the fuck?" He looks around searching for clues to what has happened. "Melitele's tits!" he then exclaims. "You are her? The Countess Ava???"

Read the complete story on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41477553/chapters/105627054

[whatspastisprologue-blr]

Jaskier is back! See an exclusive look at the fan-favorite Witcher minstrel in Blood Origin

I'm hesitantly excited about this because while I want to be glad they gave Jaskier a bigger part, I also don't really trust the Powers That Be to do right by him.

I'm guessing this picture takes place during season 3, even if it's a Blood Origin scene (as in, Jaskier's scenes in Blood Origin are set during season 3 of the main show). It looks like the same or similar hair (please let it be his real hair this time and not a bad wig made to look like his real hair). I think it's the same coat from season 2 and he definitely appears to be wearing a necklace.

So, here's Jaskier in what appears to be the site of a battle (could he have found his way to Thanedd in time for the coup?). Bloody and holding his right arm in a way that suggests he's injured. No sign of a new lute. He seems alone.

I know he travels with the hanse and does get a bit grazed by an arrow in Baptism of Fire but I don't want too much bard whump. Mostly because, when it comes to Jaskier, Netflix's Witcher seems to be 100% hurt with 0% comfort.

All hell breaks loose at a ball, does Geralt spare him a thought? Nope. Nearly dies from a djinn curse, does Geralt care? Not that he'll show Jaskier beyond one line, and then he goes to Yennefer. Jaskier gets tortured by a fire mage, does anyone care? Only Yennefer, it seems, as she gives up her chance to escape to rescue him and then lets Geralt know that Jaskier had gotten into trouble.

Joey will act the hell out of this. He looks good scuffed up and feral. Whatever happens, he'll give another amazing performance.

Is it just too much to ask for that he gets a hug at some point, though? A hug, because someone cares and just wants to hug him? Because someone sees that he needs someone who cares about him?