#geralt would ADOPT link are you kidding me

[powdermelonkeg]

Link names all his horses Epona

Geralt names all his horses Roach

I think they would get along fantastically

[contemplativepancakes]

yarn rants with dandelion

3.5k of Geralt poorly hiding the fact that he knits from his family and, in general, being an idiot, read here on AO3

Geralt slams his laptop shut as his apartment door swings open, causing Eskel to quirk an eyebrow. “Whatcha doin’?” he asks. 

“Nothing,” Geralt says in a rush. 

“Uh huh.” Eskel raises his hands. “Can’t be any weirder than the porn Lambert watches.”

Geralt grunts, scrubbing a hand down his face. “You’re not supposed to be here yet.”

Eskel glances at his watch. “I figured you might want help before the game.”

“I’m ordering pizza,” Geralt says. “Actually, do you want to do it? I have cleaning I still need to do before everyone else gets here.”

Eskel’s eyebrows climb higher on his forehead, and Geralt starts to sweat as he sees Eskel's skepticism. Geralt always makes a spread on game day, telling everyone he’s not going to wait two hours for delivery while they’ll be so busy. 

“Um. Okay.” Eskel stares at him for a beat before finally pulling out his phone. “What am I ordering?” 

Geralt shrugs. “Whatever you want.”

He goes to his room, shutting the door behind him and hearing Eskel’s voice as he talks to the pizza place. Geralt looks to his bed, where a half finished baby blanket is laid out, before hastily gathering it and its attached ball of yarn up and stuffing them in a basket, piled high with various colors and weights. He throws some dirty clothes from his floor on top for good measure before reemerging from his bedroom, Eskel looking at him suspiciously from his spot on the couch. 

“Sure you don’t need help with anything?” Eskel asks. 

“No, I’m, uh, I’m good.” Geralt goes to the fridge and pulls out two beers, passing one to Eskel and keeping one for himself. 

Thankfully, Eskel doesn’t say anything about his odd behavior, just watches the pregame show with him without comment until Letho arrives, followed shortly after by Lambert and Aiden. Geralt’s relieved, because then Eskel’s attention goes to their ridiculous dancing around each other instead of scrutinizing Geralt. 

After everyone has left for the night, Geralt pulls his laptop back out, settling it on the coffee table in front of him and goes to get his blanket. He spreads it across his lap as he clicks play, the sound of a cheerful voice filling his living room. 

“Hey, guys! It’s Dandelion, back with my latest yarn haul! I’ve got some awesome ones, and ones you should avoid at all costs, so watch and see which is which!”

Geralt lets himself stare for a second before he jerks himself out of the trance and looks back down while his needles click together as he starts to knit. 

Geralt lets the feeling of the yarn between his fingers soothe him. That’s why he watches these yarn reviews, after all. He hates going to the store for yarn, but he hates wasting his money on yarn that’s scratchy and uncomfortable against his skin even more. 

Needless to say, he’s grateful to Dandelion for doing all the prep work for him, and he may or may not have developed a crush on the man.  Who watches these videos and hasn’t? Geralt reasons.

Dandelion has an infectious enthusiasm, and Geralt can’t help the soft smile from spreading across his face as he listens.

Geralt keeps knitting until his skein is almost out. When he has less of a ball and more of a tangle left, he casts his eyes around for the next one before looking despairingly back at his blanket when he doesn’t find it. 

Fuck. 

He knew he should have ordered extra; he always does this to himself, but somehow he never learns. He groans as he pulls his computer onto his lap and opens up the website he orders his yarn from. He goes into his history and clicks on the link to his blanket yarn. It’s teal, velvety, and Geralt can’t stop running his fingers over it. When the page finally loads,  out of stock  blinks back at him. 

Double fuck. 

He’s never made a blanket before, and he’s drastically underestimated how much it would take. He’s going to need at least three more skeins. Yen’s baby shower is in a month and a half, and there’s no telling when the yarn is going to come back in stock. What if they discontinued it? 

There’s nothing for it; he’s going to have to go into the store. He looks at the clock. First thing tomorrow, he decides, before it gets busy. He’ll go right when they open, before the store gets noisy and filled with women who always try to draw him into conversation for some reason. 

Geralt huffs at the thought. 

- 

Geralt tugs his scarf a little tighter against his neck before he gets out of the car and heads into the store. There’s only four cars in the parking lot, so Geralt hopes he’ll be able to get in and out quickly. 

Once he’s inside, he makes a beeline for the yarn aisle, trying to hold in his noise of dismay when he sees someone already standing there. Geralt avoids eye contact and feigns interest in the brightly colored acrylic yarns at the end of the aisle. The person is right in front of the baby yarn section, and Geralt tries not to tap his foot. 

Just when Geralt is getting ready to pretend to browse other aisles while he waits, there’s movement behind him. “Lovely scarf,” a man’s voice says. “Looks very soft.”

Geralt turns around, only for his eyes to widen as he comes face to face with Dandelion. 

He’s sure something very intelligent sounding comes out of his mouth, but he doesn’t register it. 

Whatever it was makes Dandelion laugh, sounding familiar and alarmingly close when they’re not separated by a screen. Geralt glances down at Dandelion’s basket to see it piled high with yarn. 

“Nice colors you have there,” Geralt finally manages. 

Dandelion beams. “Thank you!” 

Geralt takes a closer look and realizes they’re rainbow colors. He heaves a tiny sigh. He’s a disaster. Does Dandelion think he’s flirting with him? Not that Geralt doesn’t want to be, per se, but—it’s complicated. 

“Did you make your scarf yourself? Or did a boyfriend make it for you?” Dandelion asks. 

“I made it myself,” Geralt mumbles. He’s not sure whether he’s relieved by this line of questioning or not.

“Oh?”

“No boyfriend.”

Dandelion turns another smile on him, and Geralt tries not to melt. “What are you shopping for?” 

“Oh. Um. A blanket.”

Dandelion turns back towards the shelves with a critical eye before he plucks out a chunky bright yellow and holds it out to Geralt for his inspection. Geralt runs his fingers over it absently. “Feels nice.”

“Right? I love this brand. How big of a blanket are you making?”

“It’s for a baby.”

Dandelion’s eyebrow arches in question. 

“My friend is adopting soon; I thought this would be nice,” Geralt says, crossing his arms over his chest defensively.

Dandelion shifts his basket from one hand to the other. “Oh, my. That is very nice.”

Geralt grumbles as he piles more yarn than can surely be reasonable into his own basket while Dandelion eyes the shelf thoughtfully. 

Geralt finishes putting the yarn into his basket and goes to leave the aisle, but Dandelion stops him before he takes more than three steps. 

“Better get more than you think. I get what I expect to use, and then add 25 percent more.”

That makes Geralt crack a smile. “That makes an expensive hobby even worse.”

Dandelion shrugs. “The curse of being a creative.”

Geralt picks two more bundles from the shelf. “I suppose you’re right.”

Dandelion clears his throat. “Hey, what’s your name?”

Geralt answers, and Dandelion looks him up and down. “Would you like to join our yarn circle?”

“What?” Geralt asks, throat dry.

Dandelion shakes his head glumly. “Nevermind. It’s just there are so few men…”

“I’ll join,” Geralt says, before he fully thinks out his words. 

Dandelion brightens instantly. “Excellent!”

Dandelion follows him to the register, chattering the whole way, and by the time Geralt leaves the store, Dandelion has his number saved in his phone. Geralt can’t help but notice how the women are leaving him alone today, just shooting him the occasional baleful look. It’s a nice change of pace. Maybe he should run into Dandelion more often. 

“I’ll text you, okay?” Dandelion says after he’s walked with Geralt to his car. 

“Um, yeah, okay,” Geralt replies. 

He slides into his car and watches Dandelion walk to a bright yellow slug bug. He quirks a grin. It fits him. Geralt’s just turned the key in his ignition when he realizes he didn’t even get the yarn that he came for. He sighs and shuts the engine off. 

If he reemerges from the store with the yarn for the rest of his blanket in addition to two skeins of blue that remind him of Dandelion’s eyes, well, that’d be creepy, and it’s nobody’s business but his, anyway. 

-

Geralt looks down at his phone.  yarn circle at that coffee place on Main tomorrow at ten! you in?

He saves the contact in his phone, debating with himself before typing  Dandelion 🌼.

He puffs a breath through his lips. He shouldn’t be this worked up about a text. 

See you then  , he types, and goes back to make the  s  lowercase. 

“Who are you texting?” Eskel asks from his spot on the couch, setting down his own phone.

“Who are  you  texting?” Geralt retorts weakly. 

Eskel looks at him, unimpressed. “My girlfriend, dude. Did you finally get yourself one? You know, it’s kind of weird Yen’s replacing you with a baby…”

Geralt grits his teeth. “She’s not replacing me. We just had conflicting goals for the future.”

“And what, pray tell, are these goals?”

Geralt shrugs. “Not kids. I’d be a terrible dad.”

Eskel rolls his eyes. It’s a conversation they’ve hashed out many times before. “Hmm,” Eskel says pointedly, and Geralt gives him an eye roll right back. 

“Are we watching this movie or not?”

Eskel mumbles something too low for Geralt to hear. 

-

The next morning dawns bright and early. Too early for Geralt to reasonably head out to the coffee shop by the time he’s ready, so he takes the time to work on the blanket. He’s inching closer to being done, and he’s looking forward to starting something with the yellow yarn, but he’s not quite sure what he wants to make yet. 

He wonders if he’s supposed to take his blanket to this yarn circle. Do they knit? Or just talk about it? What if they gossip the whole time? Geralt doesn’t have anything juicy to contribute; he doubts they want to hear about Eskel’s latest problems with his goat yoga business. Giving customers ringworm probably isn’t the best breakfast conversation. He takes in a deep breath, trying to stop the panic spiral. 

It’s fine. It’s going to be fine. 

-

It’s not fine.

When he walks in, Dandelion is already sitting at a table, wearing a floral button down that has entirely too many buttons undone to be decent. Geralt tries not to imagine what Dandelion’s chest hair would feel like under his finger tips, if it would be coarse and wiry or smooth and silky. 

Geralt shakes his head and grunts a greeting when Dandelion waves him over. 

“Hello, hello! Find the place okay?”

“No issues,” Geralt says, pulling out a chair and settling his bag with his knitting awkwardly on the ground. 

Dandelion glances down at his phone, and whatever he sees makes his face tighten. 

“Hmm, looks like the rest of the circle isn’t going to be able to make it. Flat tire.”

Geralt arches an eyebrow at him. “Do they...need help? I could go change it.”

Dandelion mutters something to himself before looking back up at Geralt. “I think they already have that covered.”

Geralt laughs and rubs a hand on his neck. “You know, I’m going to start thinking you were just trying to get me alone.”

Dandelion returns the nervous laugh and warms his hands on his mug. “Are you going to get some coffee?” he asks. 

“Uh, yeah.” Geralt stands up before turning back to Dandelion. “What do you recommend? I don’t come places like this very often.”

“Yeah, I bet. You seem like a coffee, black kind of person.”

“I don’t drink coffee,” Geralt admits. 

Dandelion’s eyes practically bug out of his head. “What do you mean you don’t drink coffee?”

“Makes me jumpy. My hands shake.”

Dandelion lets out a sharp exhale. “Wow.”

Geralt scowls. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not! Well, maybe a little. You just better get hot chocolate, then.”

“Fine. I will.”

Dandelion’s laughter when Geralt returns to the table with a mug piled high with whipped cream is infectious.

He’s not sure what comes over him, but Geralt sticks out his tongue. 

It’s not until he gets home that he realizes he never even pulled out his knitting. 

-

Dandelion starts texting him more and more, and Geralt feels vaguely guilty when he watches Dandelion’s latest video. 

He should probably tell Dandelion he watches them, but he doesn’t want it to turn into a  thing , and he certainly doesn’t read too much into it when Dandelion mentions running into a handsome stranger on his latest yarn expedition. 

He could be talking about anyone. 

Geralt finishes his blanket for Yen, and he starts to think about what his next project should be. The yellow yarn is bright and warm; silky smooth between his fingers. He starts another blanket, because why not? He’s been wanting to practice cabling, anyway. 

He brings it to the next yarn circle Dandelion invites him to, but it doesn’t get worked on, and Dandelion doesn’t say anything about where the rest of the circle is. Geralt doesn’t ask. 

Finally, four yarn circles in where no knitting is accomplished, Dandelion gives up the ghost and asks Geralt out on a date. “That’s not what we’ve been doing?” Geralt asks with a small smile. 

Dandelion shoves him in the chest, a teasing glint in his eye before his hand lingers on Geralt’s pec for a little too long. He jerks his hand back and clears his throat. “Great. I can’t wait," Geralt says.

“I’ll choose to believe that’s not sarcastic.”

Geralt pokes at him. “It’s not.”

“Hmm.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and  hmm s right back. 

-

A few weeks later finds Geralt sifting through Netflix for a movie to watch. “Hey, Dandelion!” Geralt calls from the couch, tugging a blanket up to his chin. 

Dandelion freezes from his spot just outside the living room with a bowl of popcorn in hand. 

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt says.

“What did you just say?”

“I have some white cheddar for that,” Geralt repeats, more slowly this time. 

“No, no, before that.”

Geralt thinks. “Your...name?”

Dandelion blinks at him. “My name is Jaskier.”

Now Geralt is the one who’s confused. “No, it’s not?”

“Geralt, I think I know my own name.” Dandelion’s face pinches. “Wait. You watch my videos?”

Geralt steels himself for the conversation. He had been wondering if he'd just be able to take the fact that he watches them to his grave. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to mention this?”

“It seemed...weird," Geralt says haltingly.

Geralt’s still reeling from the revelation. He’s the world’s worst boyfriend; Dandelion has to be playing a cruel prank on him. 

“And it didn’t seem weird to you that you were watching me literally sing your praises last week?”

“I thought it was kind of sweet.”

Dand—Jaskier drags a hand down his face. “I can’t believe this.”

“How was I supposed to know that wasn’t your actual name?”

“Geralt, we have been together for a month. How do you not know my  name ?”

“It’s never come up!” Geralt says defensively. “You’re the one who never even introduced yourself. Talk about bad manners.”

Jaskier splutters, and Geralt can’t help but quirk a grin at the ridiculousness of the situation. 

Jaskier finally rallies. “We’re going to have a talk about online boundaries, but—”

“But what?”

“You’re so god damned stupid,” Jaskier says, before dragging Geralt into a kiss. 

Geralt goes without complaint. 

-

While Geralt ponders the new nature of their relationship, he finally finds a use for the blue yarn he’s been hoarding. The whole time he’s knitting the hat, he thinks of Jaskier. It’s exactly the right shade of his eyes, but Geralt doesn’t let himself contemplate it too hard. 

When he’s finished, he finds an index card and scrawls a message. He wraps up the whole thing and gives it to Jaskier the next time he sees him. 

Jaskier tears the package open and rubs the yarn between his fingers in delight. “You made this for me? No one’s ever knitted something for me before.”

“I’m glad I could remedy that,” Geralt says gruffly, shifting uncomfortably at the adoring look Jaskier is giving him. 

Jaskier notices the card and reads it before bursting into laughter. 

Sorry I didn’t know your name <3

“You’re forgiven.”

On to the next order of business, then. Geralt clears his throat. “Yen’s baby shower is next week.”

Jaskier makes a noise of polite interest, not looking up from where he’s examining the stitches in the hat. Geralt really hopes he doesn’t notice where he dropped one. 

Geralt waits for a few more seconds and sighs. Jaskier is really going to make him ask. “I was wondering if you would want to go with me.”

Jaskier tilts his head up and gives Geralt a bright smile. “Of course I would!” He pauses to think for a moment. “Are you...out to them?”

“Yes,” Geralt grumbles. “It turns out my hiding spot for my play girls when I was 16 wasn’t as clever as I thought.”

Jaskier snorts. “It never is, is it?”

-

In the days leading up to the shower, Jaskier’s anxiety starts to show, but Geralt politely doesn’t comment. They walk up to the party arm in arm, Geralt carrying both of their gift bags. Geralt had told him he didn’t need to get anything, but he had anyway, insisting that he had just happened to stumble across  the cutest onesie, Geralt! What a coincidence!

Geralt can’t help but smile as he looks over at Jaskier. Jaskier’s thumb is compulsively stroking over a spot on Geralt’s hand, and he’s even wearing the hat Geralt knitted him. Geralt’s chest feels tighter than normal. 

“Oh, so this is why you haven’t been such a grump lately?” Triss asks once they walk through the door, taking their gift bags to set on a side table. 

“I’m never grumpy,” Geralt says, and Jaskier has the audacity to laugh, so Geralt elbows him in the side. 

Triss laughs at that, too, before she goes off to find Yennefer and drags her back to them. “Geralt!” she exclaims, rubbing a hand up his arm. “I’m glad you could drag yourself away from your very important activities that you refuse to tell anyone about.”

Geralt rolls his eyes and looks over to see Jaskier staring at him curiously. 

“Ah, and this must be Dandelion!” Yen says, turning to Jaskier. 

“Eskel wasn’t supposed to tell anyone about that!” Geralt hisses, but Yen just gives him a delighted smile. 

Geralt sighs as she moves on to terrorize her next guest. 

“Your friends are pretty brutal, Geralt,” Jaskier says lightly. 

“You have no idea.” 

Geralt leads Jaskier over to where Eskel and Lambert are sitting by the food table and attempts to make small talk. 

Almost immediately, Lambert asks, “What’d you get her?” 

Eskel and Geralt share an exasperated look. “Why so competitive, Lamb? Over compensating?”

Lambert scowls. “I was just curious. You’re not going to be able to top what I got her, anyway. Best uncle ever.”

“You’re not going to be an uncle,” Eskel says. 

Lambert is unconcerned. “Best uncle ever.”

Geralt crosses his arms and leans into Jaskier, trying to block out Eskel and Lambert’s bickering. 

“I hate things like this,” Geralt mutters. 

“Oh, don’t worry, Geralt. You being an unbearable softie is our little secret. I won’t breathe a word.”

Geralt grumbles. “That’s not why.” He pauses, then, “Why do I put up with you?”

“I can think of a few reasons,” Jaskier says, turning his head to press a kiss against Geralt’s temple. 

Geralt flushes at the touch and looks around, but no one is staring at them like anything out of the ordinary happened. Geralt relaxes back against him. 

He’s almost dozing off by the time Yen gets to his gift, and he only realizes it by Jaskier digging a bony elbow into his stomach. He pinches Jaskier in retribution. 

Yen opens the gift carefully, making the appropriate polite noises as she does so. 

“Isn’t it soft?” Jaskier asks as she strokes her fingers over the blanket. “Geralt chose some great yarn.”

Geralt whips his neck around to look at Jaskier so quickly he thinks he heard something pop.

“What?” 

“The yarn! It’s so nice and such a lovely color, don’t you think? Geralt did a wonderful job.”

“Geralt, you made this?” Yennefer asks incredulously, and great, her voice cracks. 

Geralt sighs and tries to accept his fate of all the merciless jokes that are going to be made in his defense. “Yes?”

“And you didn’t think to tell me this?”

“When the fuck did you learn how to do that?” Lambert asks. 

Geralt shrugs defensively. “I’ve been knitting for years.”

Everyone’s eyes are drawn to the blue cap perched on top of Jaskier’s head, and teasing grins spread over their faces. 

Geralt groans. He’s never going to hear the end of this.

As Jaskier takes his hand in his and squeezes, he thinks maybe that’s okay. 

[pillage-and-lute]

Thicker Than Water (Part 3)

Part 1 Part 2 (here) Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8

Ao3 link HERE

Finally here, now that I’m feeling a little better.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Traveling with Geralt, Ciri, and Yennefer was hard. They went slow for Yennefer’s sake, and for that Jaskier was thankful, but his entire body ached.

He’d woken up cold and damp, body sore from lying on the ground in his cheap bedroll, but he didn’t complain. He drank heavily from his water skin to keep his stomach from growling, unwilling to use up precious food for himself. He was being brought along on this journey against Geralt’s -and his own- wishes, but he would not be a burden.

He forged ahead, even, at one point, taking a bag from Yennefer. She didn’t have much to carry but he recognized the full body exhaustion on her face. She didn’t smile at him or thank him, but she nodded gratefully.

Jaskier reflected on that. He had wanted to hate the witch, especially back then, after the djinn, when he’d seen her and Geralt...playing hide the sausage. He found that he couldn’t. He was an artist, he appreciated beauty and pain and the use of words and an excellent storyline. Yennefer checked those boxes. Jaskier felt ashamed to want to dislike her. She’d held back forces at Sodden, she was strong and good with Ciri and cared for Geralt. He appreciated all these things.

It was just...she and Geralt and Ciri were all together. A powerful sorceress, a twice-made Witcher, a hero, and their adopted child with untold power and a regal birthright. It made a family. And just like with his own family, there was no place for Jaskier.

It hurt.

But he wasn’t supposed to be part of the family. He wasn’t there to share in the chatter Ciri directed at Yennefer and Geralt. Geralt even talked back a little, answering in one or two words the stream of questions. He answered them though. Jaskier wished he’d ever answered him.

Then he felt silly. He was jealous of Ciri, who was a child. A brave child, but a child nonetheless, who’d lost her home and her family and everyone she knew in a very short time. Of course Geralt would answer her questions, he was a good man.

He also liked children, Jaskier knew. He let his memory drift to a happier time. 

It had been a summer fair in a tiny, agricultural village, tucked among wheat fields like a lost button beneath a patchwork quilt. The sun had been warm and the whole world was amber. Jaskier was playing music with a scratch band of anyone who wanted to join. Lighthearted jigs and reels had unfurled beneath his hands. He played The Willow Wedding and The Flowers of Fairside and other simple country songs that his fellow musicians might know. All around them people were dancing and laughing. Flower crowns were made. Young women shyly offered them and young men shyly took them to indicate blooming romance, but almost everyone in attendance had one, old and young.

Geralt had been standing, looming without intention, at the edge of the crowd, near Jaskier. In the shadows, in his black outfit (Jaskier had insisted he leave the armor back at the in) he looked out of place, like a thistle in a bouquet.

Then a little girl in a neat yellow pinafore, dyed with weld, probably, and carefully embroidered with little yellow roses at the collar stopped by the musician. She was perhaps four years old, and she looked at the dancers and then just sat down and began to cry.. It had been a sight to bend even the hardest heart and Jaskier had been just about to stop playing when Geralt crouched in front of her.

“What ever is the matter?” Jaskier had heard him say, softly.

“Everybody’s dancin,” sniffled the little girl. “An nobody wants to dance wif me.” She reached up and took the dandelion and daisy flower crown from her dark, bushy hair.

Jaskier’s heart just melted and he wanted to cry in sympathy as one big, blobby tear rolled down a round cheek. She scrubbed it away hastily but more were hanging on lashes all around her big, brown eyes.

“Nobody wants to dance with you?” Geralt said, affecting a wide eyed look of surprise. The girl sniffled again and pointed to the edge of the dancing, where a group of kids, a little older than her, where all wheeling about together.

“Not nobody,” Geralt said, gently putting her flower crown back on her head. “You haven’t asked me if I want to dance, have you?”

She sniffed the last of her sniffles and looked up, a slow smile starting. “Do ya wanna dance wif me?”

“Of course,” Geralt had said, then he’d very carefully lifted her so her tiny feet were safely away from trodding, and he’d set her feet on the tops of his big, black boots. Then Geralt had danced, a little awkwardly, but holding her little hands in his large ones and taking big steps so she bounced on his boots, which resulted in her shrieking with delight. 

Eventually an older girl had pulled her away to go spin about with the others, but the memory lived in a quiet, warm place in Jaskier’s chest. He thought of it often, and the way the little girl had offered a tiny daisy from her flower crown. It had remained in Geralt’s fingers as he returned to his place, brooding in the shadows, spinning it between thumb and forefinger occasionally.

“Dandelion,” Ciri said, pulling him from his reverie. “Jaskier, can you tell me a story?”

Jaskier glanced back to see the look on Geralt’s face, but then wasn’t sure why he had, the witcher’s expression held no answers, it never did. The story that leapt to mind was, of course, Geralt dancing with that child in the sunshine, but he didn’t tell it. Instead he leapt into a tale, a long one, of the son of a king who wanted to marry the lovely daughter of an evil enchanter.

It was a good story, very long with lot’s of parts, so Ciri could ask for more again and again, and there were amazing characters with strange tales and true love and magic and wishes. Everything a good story needed. Jaskier prided himself on doing the voices for each new character.

Ciri traipsed along beside him, hanging on his every word. She was a good audience, making surprised noises or saying ‘oh no!’ at just the right points. Jaskier even noticed Yennefer listening, occasionally smiling to herself at a joke or a good part of the story. 

Geralt walked on ahead. Jaskier had no way of telling if he was listening, but he probably wasn’t. The story was fantastical to the extreme and if Geralt were listening he would probably be scoffing and complaining about how that ‘can’t be done with magic’ and ‘there aren’t river dragons, there’s only water serpents, they’re different species entirely’. 

It was funny, though, when they stopped for dinner-Jaskier picking at the rations offered, reluctant to use up supplies but unwilling to worry Ciri- he continued the story, and Geralt, who had been sharpening his sword, stopped.

Of course, it was probably simply that the blade didn’t need much sharpening, or that Geralt wanted to allow Ciri to listen. Still, Jaskier felt good. He hadn’t complained, he wasn’t eating too much food, and he wasn’t much of a burden.

And Ciri liked the story.

They kept walking after dinner, so long as they still had light, relying on Geralt in the dim twilight to find a spot to camp. Jaskier told more of the story, not even a third of the way through, and occasionally Ciri asked questions.

“Why did the king’s son not want to marry the oldest sister?”

“Because she was too cold,” Jaskier said, inventing, because the story didn’t say. “She was beautiful, but she could not love, so her heart turned to ice and everything she touched froze.”

“And the middle sister?” Ciri asked, wide eyed.

“She was too warm, she was angry, all the time, and so her heart turned to fire and all she touched melted or burned.”

As the story he told progressed, Jaskier used his additions in the story. The king’s son, fleeing with his soon-to-be bride, the youngest sister, had to escape the sorceror’s wrath, but the sisters tried to stop their youngest sister leaving, melting the chains of the drawbridge so that the couple couldn’t escape.

Ciri gasped and wrapped one hand in Jaskier’s traveling cloak, hanging on to him as tightly as she held to his words.

Then the eldest sister in the story sent a blizard after the couple, who had escaped the draw bridge just in time. Yennefer, who looked a little better after their meal and short rest, sent a tiny swirl of snow, a miniature blizzard from her finger, letting it play a moment with Ciri’s hair before dissappearing. 

Ciri laughed with delight and Jaskier sent a smile to Yennefer, who nodded at him surprisingly warmly. A good story made everyone happy, he supposed.

They stopped for the night in another clearing. Ciri begged for more of the story before bed. Geralt sat, setting the fire so it could burn through the night, while Yennefer brushed out Ciri’s hair. It was a perfect, domestic little scene, and Jaskier felt odd, seeing it from the outside, but also in the spotlight of Ciri’s focus. 

He plucked his lute quietly as he told the story. In truth, there were many little poems buried in the tale, and he’d long ago made little tunes for each so that they could be sung. When he came to one, though, he didn’t sing it. He just plucked out the tune as he talked, and when the poem passed he continued through the story, letting his music be the background.

Hopefully it was less annoying that way. 

He wasn’t about to offer this perfect family a fillingless pie.

As he finally lay down to sleep though, he quite felt like a fillingless pie himself. Ciri and Yennefer had once again bedded down in the magic tent and Geralt was rolled up in his bedroll in his tent, across the barely glowing fire. Jaskier lay awake.

His bedroll was thin and his ribs fairly ached with hunger, but Geralt had said they were but a day away from a town. Jaskier could buy supplies there, he still had a little coin, and that way he wouldn’t use up the others’ food.

He could play in the town too, earn more coin. They wouldn’t stay there, he knew, not with half the continent searching for a white haired witcher and his child surprise. But the others needed supplies too, and Yennefer said she had enough magic for a small glamor to hide Geralt and Ciri’s hair and her eyes.

Jaskier settled in for the night. Earning coin made him useful, and therefore not a burden, so he would earn coin.

He made a list in his head of things he should buy to prepare for the trek up to Kaer Morhen. Gloves, his only pair had worn out last year. A thicker cloak, his was practically threadbare. Grapeseed and linseed oil. One for the beard he was growing and the other for his lute. New lute strings.

He rolled over on his bedroll, trying to avoid the root digging into his spine. He’d need to make quite a bit of money. He wasn’t sure he’d be able too. It wasn’t safe to sing about the white wolf, not too much, or someone might recognize him as himself, rather than just some bard singing Jaskier’s songs. 

Country ditties then, but they made less money. It wasn’t just his supplies he needed to buy, either. Jaskier didn’t want to just not be a burden, he wanted to help.

They would all need thicker clothes and lots of food to make it to Kaer Morhen. He wasn’t a good hunter so he could really only help by supplying money to buy what they needed. He had little right now, and he felt shame rise in him. He’d had no way of knowing he’d meet up with Geralt and his child surprise, but if he hadn’t drunk so much of his money than he could be a better help. 

He could sell his lute.

The thought came into his mind like a knife, and it turned his stomache. He could sell his lute, but the beautiful girl was the only physical thing he had to remind him of Geralt. Filavandrel’s lute. It would be worth a fortune, of course. Elven made, everyone knew they made the best instruments.

It was just...he couldn’t bear the thought of letting the lute go. He loved how she played, loved the memories he had. He knew the story behind every shallow scratch and scuff, and who could love her the same? And when the danger was passed and Geralt never had to see him again, what would Jaskier have then? A handful of memories, turned bittersweet, then bitter. Nothing concrete. He’d go back to Oxenfurt, maybe even Lettenhove. And there would be nothing for him to hold to remind him.

He couldn’t sell his lute.

The thought ate at him as he tried to sleep though. He had in his hands the means to help them all so much, and he was too selfish to do so.

Sleep eventually claimed him, and he dreamt of a mountain, wind whipping about his ears and carrying words to him.

Shit shoveler. Burden. If life could give me one blessing...

He awoke sore and badly rested, tears dried on his face.

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@frywen-babbles

[andyet-here-we-are]

I Would Get Into Millions of Accidents Just to See You, Chapter 1

For @wolfgeralt as a little ‘thank you’ for his stunning art -which I really adore, you can see it here: (x)

and for @hecky-heckicravedeath (x) who gave me inspiration for this fanfiction. Also Thanks @3tothe1 for being my beta. (You’re such a sweetheart, and I love you so much)

Anyway,  I hope you like it, my dear Witchlings! 💛

I present you: NURSE GERALT!  

Chapter 1 Word Count: 2461

ao3: (x) 

Chapter 2 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 3 Tumblr link: (x) Chapter 4 Tumblr Link: (x)

When Geralt arrives for his shift, still feeling exhausted from yesterday, he has no idea what’s waiting for him at the hospital. His days are never too ordinary because you never know what you’ll come across.

That’s a part of being a nurse.

But he could never think that one of the not-so-famous musicians, his daughter, Ciri adores, was going to have a terrible traffic accident—which somehow isn’t on the news—and end up in the hospital he works at.

He already knows his name since Ciri just can’t stop talking about how nice he is and how he sounds like an angel. To the point where sometimes Geralt wants to say “Okay he is wonderful, so kind and lovely and you really love him, I get it. Can you please just keep eating your pasta? Yes Ciri, yes, I know that pasta is his favorite food, you say that every time we’re having pasta. ”

Geralt isn’t there for his intake, apparently, the accident happened last night, and the musician was badly injured.

Jaskier has a ruptured spleen that caused internal hemorrhaging, which the doctors were able to repair. He also has a mild concussion, a couple of broken ribs, along with some cuts and a broken leg which he is probably going to need another surgery for.

Since the other nurse who was responsible for Jaskier last night,  is having some family issues and has to take his annual leave, Jaskier is in Geralt’s care now, they let Geralt know.

When Geralt is home, Ciri starts talking about how Jaskier hadn’t posted anything in two days, and how worried she is since Jaskier had promised them a new song, “He never breaks his promises,” she says.

Geralt thinks that keeping the fact that the young man was in a traffic accident to himself is a better idea.

***

Three days later, when Geralt cracks open the door to Jaskier’s room, the man still sounds asleep, his chest rising and falling with every slow breath he takes as the morphine keeps dripping into his system. It’s enough to keep him subdued, if not completely pain-free.

He checks his IV, and takes a few notes onto his clipboard, right before the musician comes to, his eyelids fluttering.

And damn if he hasn’t got the most breathtaking eyes he has ever seen in his whole life. Even when they lack the spark Geralt is sure they normally hold in them.

Jaskier is confused, of course. So he tells him about what has happened and clears his throat before speaking.

“Mr. Pankratz, I need to take your vitals and then give you some medicines for the pain, may I have your arm?”

“Hell you can, might as well take my poor heart that seems to be beating for—”  Jaskier flirts and coughs before he has the chance to finish, his voice is low and hoarse from lack of use.

Geralt makes no comments, and fills a cup of water for him instead, helping him to drink it. He is surprised by the musician’s flattering words, and he is also glad that he is good at keeping a neutral expression on his face.  

“…you.” He finishes. “Well, I would normally use the ‘am I dead and in Heaven?’ cliché, but, see,” Jaskier keeps talking after sipping some water “I’m in too much pain to think that I’m in heaven. You sure look like a sexy angel or something though.  Ohoho, are you gonna give me a sponge bath, too? Just wondering. If so, I’m totally down for it. Just so you know.”

Geralt can’t help but snort at that a bit, “Do you always talk that much?”

“Maybe it’s you who doesn’t talk enough, you ever considered that?” Jaskier teases, and then suddenly his whole playful expression changes like he remembered that he had left his cat on the stone, and he frowns to himself, “Oh God, three days you said? Shitshitshit,” he drops his head back onto his pillows in a way too dramatic manner, covering his eyes with one hand “I had promised them a new song,” the nurse hears him mumbling “I am such an idiot.”

Jaskier truly seems so disappointed in himself that Geralt feels the need of comforting him. The man had a traffic accident, for crying out loud!

And yet, he is concerned for his fans because he couldn’t keep his promise, rather than being worried for himself.

Not even an hour has passed since he had the chance to talk to the man, but he already can see why Ciri likes this guy that much.

“It’s not your fault that some idiot decided that running a red light and colliding with your car was a good idea,” Geralt says “don’t beat yourself up over it.”

Jaskier still seems disappointed, but he mumbles a silent 'thank you’ before he says “ you may be right, but I promised them.”

***

Days go like this: Jaskier keeps flirting with him every time Geralt steps into his room to check on him and give him his medicines. Geralt never flirts back because of obvious reasons, but he never tells him to stop either, even though he does judge him with his eyes now and then.

The moments Geralt can spend with the man is the most he feels happy at work.

He can’t even deny that at this point.

Ciri keeps asking him why he looks happier nowadays, and why he suddenly became clumsy all of a sudden because he loses his focus easily.

“Who is the reason behind your smile? I gotta know! C’mon, it’s not fair! Don’t leave me hanging like this!”  She insists, being the stubborn girl she is, and after a second she grins like cheshire cat “You’ve finally met someone special?”

“…I might have, pumpkin”  is his answer. “I might have.”

***

He doesn’t know why, but Geralt doesn’t like Thursdays. Well, it’s probably because everything bad has ever happened to him seemed to happen on Thursdays, usually.

And sadly, this Thursday is no exception.

Hank, a seventy years old man who has been here for more than a month, and who has been very ill passes away. Who he had become really close with and really cared about.

Jaskier catches his change of mood when he goes to check on him and simply says, “Talk to me. I mean, you don’t have to. But you look like you could use a friend. And I’m so bored of watching television anyway.”

So Geralt talks to him.

He talks about Hank, about how wise he was. He talks about how he has been working here for years but how it still affects him so much when someone passes away. How he doesn’t suppose to feel a connection with his patients, how terrible of a nurse that makes him.

“That makes you human, not a terrible nurse.” Jaskier assures him, his voice as gentle as always. “Believe me. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Geralt isn’t sure when Jaskier’s hand finds his hand as they talk, and when his dainty looking, long fingers link with his; but the intimate gesture feels so natural, so right that he just lets him.

***

Jaskier has surgery for his right leg the next day, and it’s not the first time that Geralt hears his patients saying the most ridiculous things after their surgery, thanks to the sedation.

But oh boy, if Jaskier doesn’t take it to a whole new level.

“Maaarry meee, my dear nurse!” the musician yells, “we could make the most adorable babies together! One of them would have my voice, one of them would have your weirdly sexy brooding or something. One of them would have my…. my tongue?  Or eyes? Cheeks! Yes, cheeks. And the other would have your lips while the other would have your… DIMPLE! I love that cute dimple you have on your jaw! ”

Geralt laughs, because how can he not?

“That’s biologically impossible.” the nurse says. “Also how many kids you have in mind? That was awfully a lot.”

“Hmm, let’s see. Marie, Duchess,” Jaskier starts to count with his fingers, and he looks so damn adorable that Geralt finds it extremely hard to not just reach out and ruffle his hair. “Thomas O'Malley, Toulouse, and Berlioz. So, six!”

“It’s five, actually,” Geralt tilts his head to the side slightly and corrects him with a fond, little smile. “So… you’re planning to name your kids after The Aristocats?”

“Our kids, mind you. And I’m not straight, love. You can’t expect me to do the math, I don’t make the rules.”

Love.

He just called Geralt ‘love’

“He probably calls ‘love’ everyone,” the nurse reminds himself and swallows, not being able to focus on what Jaskier says for a minute or so. “You’re no special.”

But the way Jaskier utters that one word, makes him feel like he is lying to himself.

When he can finally focus on what he is saying,  Jaskier is still talking about the same topic.

“…and you should be grateful that I’m not planning to name them after Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles! If we’re gonna have more than six, I’m totally doing that though.”

“Why Mr. Pankratz, we’re not even married yet. But I already don’t have a say in anything, it seems.” Geralt can’t help but tease with the young man in return.

Jaskier waves one hand weakly: “Don’t take this as my marriage proposal though, I’m better than that. If I were to propose to you I would do that in the most wonderful way. Roses, candles, and everything. Even fireworks.”

Geralt remains silent, so Jaskier talks again: “And ya know, joking aside, actually we couldn’t name them unless we adopted them when they were babies.”

“Why do you want so many kids?” the nurse wonders, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, growing up in a foster care system will do that to you,” Jaskier lets out a loud and somehow cute yawn.

Geralt knows that he wasn’t even supposed to ask that, and he shouldn’t even listen to Jaskier rambling about his life, which he won’t even remember after the sedative effect wears off.

But he can’t suppress his need of knowing more about him.

He just can’t.

“Wanna adopt as many kids as I can, so I can provide ’em a life filled full of love and everything they deserve. All the beautiful things in the universe. All the things I couldn’t have when I was a kid.” Jaskier admits, and his words make Geralt’s heart clench in his chest.

At that moment, Geralt is sure that he is falling so hard for the musician.

Maybe he already did.

“Don’t think that I’m not gonna name our dogs after them though. Or cats.” Jaskier mumbles. He looks like he is just two seconds away from falling into a deep sleep.

Right when he moves to leave, Jaskier grabs his hand as he softly, sweetly whispers, “Geralt, don’t leave me.” And he sounds so vulnerable, so weak that the nurse’s heart skips a beat in his chest.

Geralt would love to say that he doesn’t leave all night, but he has other patients he needs to check on, so he leaves.

But not before staying for five minutes as he holds the musician’s hand, and watches him fall asleep. Nobody needs to know, right?

***

The next day, Jaskier doesn’t remember most of the things he had said last night, but somehow he remembers that Geralt had stayed for a while.

That day, feeling guilty about yesterday, Geralt talks about his life.

“It’s only fair,” he thinks.

He talks about Ciri, and he lets the musician know how crazy his daughter is about him. That makes Jaskier smile at him warmly, but then again, his smile is always like this.

Warmer than the sun on a hot summer day.

Blushing, Jaskier hesitantly says that he would love to meet her. His big, baby blue eyes seem to be searching for something in Geralt’s eyes.

And Geralt understands that he finds whatever he was searching for when Geralt nods and says: “We would love that, too.”

***

“Look! Jaskier finally posted something!” Ciri says one morning while they are having breakfast, well, more like Ciri is having breakfast, and Geralt is just busy with his coffee since he is in a hurry.

“Hmm?”

“Wait, was this an ‘I’m Actually Curious About What You Have To Say’ type of ‘hmm’? Because it definitely didn’t sound like your usual ‘I Don’t Care’ type of ‘hmm’. Nice! That might be the first time you actually seem curious about what I have to say about him.” Ciri smiles, and lets out a sad, little “Oh.” After reading whatever Jaskier had posted.

“He says that he is having some minor health issues…”

Geralt huffs at that.

‘Minor health issues’

If what he had gone through is “minor” to Jaskier, Geralt doesn’t even want to imagine what “major health issues”  mean in his dictionary.

But he is sure that the only reason why the musician says “minor” is because he doesn’t want to worry his fans.

“‘I am in good hands though—I mean it, really really good hands—so no need to worry. Love you all, xoxo’ Hmm… I hope it’s nothing serious.”

The nurse looks at his daughter’s phone screen and the excessive amount of winking face emojis after ‘really really good hands’ part catches his attention.

He tries to hide his smile behind his black coffee mug.

And luckily, he succeeds.

***

A few days later, it’s time for Jaskier to be discharged from the hospital. And Geralt feels a bit sad about it, to be honest. Because he is already used to having the young man around.

To his never-ending flirting and jokes, to his smile, to his everything.

But the good thing is, that means that he will be no longer his patient.

Jaskier gives him his number before he leaves, and tells Geralt to call him whenever he is free.

“I’m totally getting into another accident and make sure they bring me here if you don’t call, Mr. Handsome Nurse,” the musician jokes in a low voice.

“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Geralt smiles. “You can be sure that I’ll call, Jaskier. And we can even have some pasta maybe.”

It’s the first time that Geralt calls him by his first name, and the nurse can see how the other man’s smile widens when he does that, eyes sparkling.

“Wow. Now I have no doubt about how much Ciri talks about me,“ scratching the back of his head, Jaskier chuckles shyly, and it’s music to his ears. Ciri is right. He does sound like an angel.

"Till we meet again, Geralt. Till we meet again.”

[pressedinthepages]

Pivot

Fandom: The Witcher

Pairing: Ciri & Eskel (Platonic/Familial), Geralt/Eskel, Ciri/OFC

Rating: T

Masterlist

a/n:  deadicateddeath on AO3 gave me this lovely prompt for this next installment :) [ Could a future installation be Ciri weaponizing her abilty to get Eskel to talk to her about anything to make him indirectly talk about his pining and waiting for someone for a lifetime, and asking how you KNOW if someone likes you back and then hitting him with, on the way out the door, "Then how come you don't see it when someone shows it to you?" and LEAVES so Eskel has to unpack that on his own.  Ciri digging right into Eskel's traumas is very very very good and I enjoy it very much. ]

thanks to @sometimesiwrite​ for being a great beta/idea machine/friend :)

(There is a link on my page where you can be added to my taglist :D)

Warnings: language, softer than that really good whipped frosting that comes on bomb ass cupcakes, ~yearning~, eskel gets to borrow the brain cell for a sec

Ciri lends a hand.

    Eskel wiped his hands on the soft knees of his pants as he turned away from the cutting board. It was littered with various vegetables that had been peeled and quartered in preparation for supper. He turned and walked up to the window, peering out at the snow falling lazily to the ground. Eskel could feel the chill atop his forearms and the heat blossoming from the fireplace at his back. 

    He closed his eyes and breathed deeply through his nose, reveling in the peace that hung in the air. The sun hung high in the sky and glinted off the icicles dripping from the ledge and Eskel could hear the gentle crackling of fresh snow freezing and sticking on the ground. He thought that he may be content to stay in this moment forever, and it was blissfully quiet.

    Well, maybe too quiet.

    As if summoned by the mere thought of shenanigans, a deafening *boom* shook the old stones of the castle and Eskel merely sighed and turned back to his vegetables. This was not a new concept for Eskel, having grown long used to his peace being disturbed time and time again by the same old culprit.

    “Shit, kid,” he heard Lambert growl and scurry to his feet a floor up and a bit over to his right, precisely where the alchemy lab is situated. 

    “No, no,” Eskel hung his head when he heard Ciri whisper back, fully recognizing them both for the agents of chaos that they were. “This is great! The dimeritium dust worked perfectly, so now we just have to stabilize the mixtu-”

    Eskel’s heart skipped a beat when he heard familiar footsteps heading in his direction and he grinned to himself right before the door swung open. Eskel always appreciated how Geralt looked, but his ‘start of Winter’ look just may have been his favorite. Tight black trousers and a dense tunic, the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and contrasting drastically with his pale skin. Silver hair spilling onto his shoulders and just the hint of stubble coming in, topped off with a pair of thick woolen socks and not a boot in sight. 

    Geralt padded into the kitchen and slid up next to Eskel, bumping his shoulder and staying close at his side. Eskel tried not to breathe in too deeply or else he would get caught up in the heady musk that surrounded Geralt. He snatched up a carrot and gave Eskel a shit-eating grin and Eskel just couldn’t find it in himself to care. Geralt could wreck his entire garden and give him that stupid smile and Eskel wouldn’t be able to be mad at him if he tried. 

    Geralt leaned back against the wall as Eskel turned back to the table of vegetables. He let his gaze wander up the strong forearms exposed by the rolled-up sleeves, lingering on the sheer breadth of his shoulders that flex with every chop he makes. 

“Anything I can help you with, Wolf?” Eskel asked, not even looking up. If he had, though, he would have caught the blush creeping up Geralt’s neck at being caught. 

“Ah-well, I was uh…” Geralt floundered, but he breathed a sigh of relief when he heard footsteps running towards the kitchen. “Incoming.”

Two young women burst into the kitchen in a flurry of laughter, bright silver hair and dark waves catching in the light. “Ladies,” Eskel greeted, still keeping his eyes trained on the chopping in front of him.

“Master Eskel,” the dark-haired one replied. Geralt snorted as Eskel turned round to her, blowing with his lower lip in an effort to tame the hair drooping into his eyes. It never worked. 

“Sala, I’ve told you. Eskel is fine.”

Sala flushed and reached out for Ciri’s hand, which was easily given with a soft gleam of the eyes. “Sorry, Eskel.”

“Nothing to apologize for,” Eskel reassured her, returning to his task. “Just want you to be comfortable here. I know Ciri does too, and it took her forever to not call me anything other than Sir Eskel. And I never have been, nor will I ever be, a knight.”

“But you’re just so noble and good,” Ciri argued, leaning against Eskel’s shoulder. “Why would I use anything other than a fitting title?”

Geralt hummed in agreement, pulling Eskel away from the vegetables once more. He met Geralt’s eyes across the kitchen and raised an eyebrow. Geralt shrugged in response, glancing over to Ciri and jutting his chin in response. Gods, they’ve known each other for too long. 

By the time the two of them had finished their silent conversation, Sala had left, and Ciri walked over next to Geralt. “Would you work with me on sword training this afternoon?”

“Won’t Sala be bored?”

“No, silly,” Ciri giggled, “She’ll be joining us.”

Geralt sighed and nodded, pushing himself away from the wall and turning to walk out of the kitchen. “Care to join us, Eskel?”

“No, need to finish this.” Eskel groaned inwardly, for he longed for nothing more than to see Geralt all sweaty and strong under the winter sun. 

“Could I borrow you in the library after supper?” Ciri asked after Geralt left the room.

Eskel looked up at her, noting the way her hands wrung themselves and hearing her heartbeat flutter in the air between them. “Of course. Always, Swallow.”

Ciri nodded and spun on her heel, striding out of the door with a well-practiced confidence that ran down to the bone. Eskel smiled before chucking the vegetables into the pot over the fire. 

***

Lambert was getting old. Eskel watched as he settled into a chair by the fire in the main chamber of the keep, grunting under his breath as he got comfortable. And then, by the Gods, he was snoring and drooling not more than half a minute later. Vesemir was puttering around in the lower portion of the castle, in the damp greenhouse situated next to the hot springs where they all bathed. Geralt was probably out in the stables, and Sala had excused herself to take a warm bath in peace. Which meant that Ciri was probably already waiting for him in the library, glass of wine in hand. 

Once he shouldered the heavy oak door to the library open Eskel toed off his boots, leaving the thick socks on as he crossed over to where Ciri was sitting cross-legged by the fire. While she did already have a glass in her hand, it wasn’t filled with wine. It was a heady, spiced apple cider that Geralt loves more than almost anything. 

As Eskel kneeled down beside her she held out another glass filled with cider, which Eskel gratefully accepted. He grinned into the cup before taking a long drink, feeling warmth pool in his gut that had nothing to do with the alcohol. It felt like one of Geralt’s low laughs, or the bolts of lightning that explode across his skin when they bump into each other. 

Eskel sighed as he peered into the fire, and Ciri reached out to place a hand on his knee. “You alright, Uncle Eskel?”

Eskel smiled, nodding his head. “Yeah, Swallow. I’m fine. Now, what did you want to talk about?”

Now it was Ciri’s turn to sigh and turn away, and Eskel watched as the light from the fire danced over her silver hair. “I-well. How do you know if someone loves you in return?”

Eskel tilted his head, letting his mind find those fuzzy edges where his love lay. He thought back to how he watched Ciri and Sala together, how it was blindingly obvious for anyone on the outside to see their love. But it’s always harder to see from inside. 

“When she’s hurting, whether it’s physically or mentally, who does she seek out first?”

Ciri thought for a moment, “Me. Bu-”

“And when you’re happy, what does she do?”

“She-she’s happy too. Esk-”

Eskel shook his head. “Wait, Ciri. Let me finish. What about when you’re apart. I know you write each other. Does she miss you?”

“Well, of course, but I wasn-”

“And does she seek you out when you return?”

“Yes, sometimes she finds me first, Eskel can I ju-”

“And doe-”

“Eskel. Stop.”

And he did. He blinked and snapped his mouth shut, looking over at Ciri with bewilderment in his eyes. She was gripping the cup in her hands with enough force to turn her knuckles white. “Ciri?”

She drained the last of her cider and stood, nodding to herself as she strode to the door. “Thank you, Uncle Eskel.”

Eskel stayed seated on the floor, trying desperately to wrap his mind around the change in direction. “Ciri, I-I wouldn’t worry. Sala came up here with you. Of course she loves you.”

Ciri smiled, almost a little bit sadly. “I wasn’t talking about me and Sala. Maybe you should talk to Geralt.”

And with that, she was gone. Whisked away by a stray breeze, leaving Eskel gobsmacked on the rug before the fire. He took inventory of his surroundings before leaning back against the chair behind him, sipping his cider as his brain played catch-up.

‘When he’s hurting, who does he seek out?’ Eskel remembered all of the times he had patched Geralt up, whether it had been as young boys before the Trials or as seventy-year-old men after getting his ass handed to him by his adopted daughter. He remembered holding Geralt in the dark as he shook with sensory overload after a second batch of mutagens, and cupping the back of his neck and pressing their foreheads together after the nightmare of Blaviken.

‘When I’m happy, what does he do?’ Geralt smiled the brightest when he saw Eskel with Lil’ Bleater snuggled in his jerkin, or whenever he reached a new level of control over his signs. He never looked that happy when it was his own successes, but looking back, Eskel wants to reach out and keep that smile tucked away next to his heart. 

‘Does he miss me?’ Fuck. Well, of course, Geralt missed him, Eskel assumed. He could always note the turn of Geralt’s scent from something mellow and just fine to abruptly happy and content when they found each other again. Every. Single. Time. 

‘Does he seek me out?’ More times than Eskel can count, especially in recent years, Geralt had found him on The Path. Sure, Eskel had done it before too, heard rumors about another Witcher running about not too far away. And when he would head that way and he  picked up Geralt’s scent, he chased him further until finding him nudged up against a tree looking all the world like he had just dropped there from some other plane. But now it felt like Eskel was the one being stumbled upon more often than not, and suddenly it all clicked into place. 

Fuck. When did that kid get so smart?

[nomattertheoceans]

... so what episode of the Witcher are you on? I really want to know your thoughts on it so far

NONNIE, I WATCHED IT ALL!!!! I binged the entire show in one afternoon and one night it was insane xD

Overall I really enjoyed it!! It’s not a show I will be a hardcore fan of or anything but it’s very entertaining and I am definintely looking forward to the second season :)

The most entertaining part was trying to figure out the timelines while watching, and not to brag, but according to @staticpetrichor I did pretty well so I’m proud of myself for catching on the small details (so maybe I do want to brag a little about it hahahaha)

(putting the rest under a cut because it got a bit long xD)

I absolutely LOVE Yennefer! Like, legit she is such an interesting character with a rich backstory and a well-built character arc and understandable motivations and fears and flaws, I love her. I felt like she was the actual main character of the season, honestly. Like, Geralt was at the center of the events, but Yennefer was at the center of the story, if that makes sense. I mean, even the fact that the last line of the entire season is “who is Yennefer?” is very telling to me in that aspect. I was irked by the idea of women having to abandon their fertility in order to become sorceresses, so having her arc being about her wanting her choice back, because truly she never had a choice, is something I really like and can’t wait to see where they’re taking it next season.

Geralt was good (HIS VOICE OMG I NEED HENRY CAVILL TO READ STUFF TO ME 24/7), but I’m hoping he’ll get more of a character arc now that he’s united with Ciri!! I feel like he spent the seasons going on side quests because he wasn’t ready to accept his responsabilities to her, which was really interesting and entertaining and I think it was necessary to his character, but I hope season 2 will give him more complex motivations now that he’s reunited with Ciri and ready to face his responsabilities. And I don’t know if it’ll happen, but I hope Yennefer and Ciri will get to bond, and maybe Yennefer will become sort of a foster mother to Ciri which would be amazing for the both of them!!

I enjoyed Geralt and Yennefer as an item but in a strange way xD Basically, I loved how Yennefer’s biggest fear was to not being loved, and how everybody says Geralt can’t love anyone (I know it’s bull, but you know, everybody tells him so), and then to have him fall for her so hard because she is just that amazing? Perfect. That moment when she said she wanted to be important to someone, and he answered “you’re important to me” OMG I SWOONED NONNIE IT’S WHAT SHE DESERVES.  ALSO THAT OTHER MOMENT IN THE TAVERN WHERE HE CAN’T TEAR HIS EYES AWAY OHMYGOOOOOD. Also I love the fact that Geralt sees a woman that could kill him so easily and his immediate response is *heart-eyes* because honestly, same xD

Jaskier..... Okay Jaskier was a strange experience for me. Mostly because I was expecting him to have such a bigger part in the show? I guess because I saw him everywhere on Tumblr so I thought he was a main character haha so at first I was a little underwhelmed when I realized the extent of his part. But now I think I really liked him!! I loved how he was basically a narrator inside of the story. I loved how he’s kind of on the outside looking in on the events, and how his songs frame the story of Geralt. It’s really interesting to watch, it feels almost like a breaking of the fourth wall but not all the way and I loved it!! Although I hope we’ll get to see the more serious part of him more in s2. He was fun as a jester but I really preferred him in the scenes where he was serious and emotional, that’s when I most liked him.

Dara is so sweeeeet I hope we get to see more of Dara in s2!!! Basically I want Yennefer to adopt all the stray kids of the continent because it’s what they all deserve xD

I was very intrigued by Ciri’s powers, I had some crazy theories about it (you can ask @staticpetrichor lmao I went to some pretty crazy places while theorizing during the show) but apparently it’s much simpler than what I thought? Little disappointed not gonna lie

Oh, also about the last scene, that hug between Geralt and Ciri was EVERYTHING!!! I was very emotional at that point (it was 4 in the morning so that might have been a factor xD) and it made me so happy!! All the characters in this show need hugs xD The whole scene with them hugging, Geralt talking about how people linked by destiny will find each other, and Ciri answering with asking him about Yennefer was very nice. It makes me think that the three of them might become a found family in the second season and.... I’m a sucker for found family so I can’t wait to see it.

I know nothing of the original medium so I went in mostly blind and I’m glad I did, although it was hard to understand the politics of the continent! But I feel like it’s the kind of show where you don’t necessarily need to understand every little line on the screen to understand the overall story, so it didn’t bother me.

Wow so it turns out I had a lot of thoughts xDDD Feel free to send me other asks about the show!!!!!