#implied future geraskier
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kuwdora · 1 year ago
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for the ao3 wrapped writers ask game: 17 and/or 29 pretty please!
17. Your favorite character to write this year?
Mmmm, this year?? Vilgefortz. I had a very Specific Itch to scratch and golly, I sure did indulge myself—and @reinvent-and-believe and @sidprescot too, mwahahaha. The TWN Thanedd episode came and went with Vilgefortz. His scenes with Geralt worked me into a froth because I absolutely needed more because how much I loved their book scenes. And honestly it’s not right how truncated Vilgefortz' dialogue is in the show. And thus my brain overheated and Ouroboros happened. It really was that saying—write for that group of like 3 or 5 people who are gonna lose their minds. And they did. I think @littlestsnicket's brain melted and I'm not sure @sidprescot will be the same lol. It was great. I winked so hard at my readers that my eye fell out and @reinvent-and-believe picked up my eye, cleaned it off and handed it back to me and @sidprescot is just foaming at the mouth and brain the whole fucking time (ilu all). I also managed to post more about writing/drafting this fic than anything else I’ve written in the last few years, lol god. I have 15 million witcher thoughts at any given time (mostly about yennefer and yennskier and geraskier) but this is what i manage to post the most about, sdflakjsdf. I love Witcher canon blending and riffing on themes, okay. My blending is not to everyone's tastes, but yeaaahhh I had quite the time writing Vilgefortz this year. All the Continental art history was so much fun to weave throughout the story.
29. Favorite line/passage you wrote this year?
Here’s my favorite passage from chapter 1 of Ouroboros, it’s about 900 words. I loved starting the fic off with the TWN characterizations and then running with it back to some book vibes and all my feelings about all the canons and aaaand and…lots of things. Love this whole passage. Indulgent.
“Doesn’t appear to be much glory in this gallery,” Geralt said, gesturing at the vertical diptych he was studying.
Vilgefortz nodded and strode closer to point out the relevant details. There was a curious furrow to Geralt’s brow that made Vilgefortz more confident in encouraging Geralt to voice his thoughts.
“This one is called Ships in a Desert and it’s a very controversial piece with multiple meanings. Each canvas represents a different interpretation of First Landing and encourages the viewer to engage with different possibilities. This bottom artwork is clearly not historically accurate because as you can see the ship and its wreckage is strewn across a desert landscape rather than the coast of Redania. The artist Yona Skanfall also intended this scene to subvert Ithlinne’s Prophecy.
“You can see in the foreground a future where the Continent’s water has dried up and its inhabitants are boiling their own skin as a direct result of humanity wielding Chaos. People did not take kindly to this kind of heresy against the prevailing narrative about the White Frost. But there were those who were ardent defenders of this piece because it held true to the original prophecy’s themes of a calamitous end by humanity’s hubris. But Aen Ithlinnespeath was a sacred elven prophecy and any minute deviations from the story caused an uproar. Yona certainly made no friends by implying the Hen Ichaer died before they could save the world—note the desiccated seed pod in this dune. If this scene alone had not gotten Yona banned from two kingdoms for smearing elven canon and laying waste to the kings of her day—see the scattered crowns in the sand here and here—her choice to depict Jan Bekker as a woman gave others all the more reason to ostracize her.”
“Why were people offended by Jan Bekker as a woman?” Geralt asked.
“Why indeed? Vanity. Sexism. Most primary sources and historical records suggested that Jan Bekker was actually quite a hideous man. In the early days of the Brotherhood mages had not yet mastered the art of cosmetic transformation. Many saw their ugliness as intrinsic to their character, especially those first survivors who bore the scars of scurvy from their journey. To remove that element and depict Jana Bekker as a buxom heroine was antithetical to their view of history.”
“You’re telling me mages are superficial in more ways than one? Color me surprised.”
Vilgefortz laughed and found himself warming even more to the witcher. He bit the inside of his lip and stepped closer, brushing against Geralt’s elbow.
“There have been other interpretations of Jana over the years. I myself have collected several woodcuts of her and Nina Fioravanti in mid-coitus from a series called Ars Orgasmica. I could show them to you, if you’d like.”
Geralt didn’t verbalize a witty retort, though Vilgefortz could sense the words propositions and pornography floating on the surface of his mind. Geralt turned his attention on the other painting from Ships in a Desert. He gestured. “Tell me about this one.”
Vilgefortz tore his gaze away from Geralt, carefully gathering his words. “This painting depicts a slightly different interpretation of her original interpretation. The wreckage of First Landing is in the foreground and the bodies of the ship's crew are barely visible in the sand. The emphasis here is on the future that was lost. Notice the verdant hills in the background, never to be discovered by the first mages. Perhaps if there was a lighthouse in this desert sea, these two ships would not have crashed and fallen to the dunes and become lost to memory. Perhaps they could have met, shared resources, and survived in spite of the hardship. They could have thrived and built a new world together.”
“The hills are better off without the mages,” Geralt murmured.
Vilgefortz turned back to Geralt and nodded solemnly. “A solid interpretation. The commonality amongst these pieces is suffering. Yona depicted it well.”
“Your lot is notorious for causing suffering.”
“Truer words have never been spoken.”
“Truth is something this ball is in short supply of.”
“Tonight there’s so much more on offer,” Vilgefortz said.
“If I wanted to have my fill of lies and subterfuge, I would have stayed downstairs eating from the bottomless pit of illusory caviar.”
Every one of Geralt’s conversational parries aroused more desire in Vilgefortz’s chest. He’d hoped to keep the witcher’s attention for more serious matters tonight, but the wry humor was an unexpected delight. Enticing and novel in a way that Vilgefortz had known others had been charmed by, but never believed he would also find so alluring. He wanted more of Geralt.
“I agree. Stay with me. At my table we would feast upon spiced boar and toast to our communion. No illusions, only the boundless companionship of two men appreciating art and history together.”
A grimace passed across Geralt’s features, like Vilgefortz’s words were little more than indigestion. The firelight from the braziers cast a warm glow upon Geralt’s face, and there Vilgefortz saw a world beyond the staid neutrality that Geralt wore like a tattered cape. A place where two outcasts would be respected and admired. A time where Vilgefortz could lose himself beneath the witcher’s broad hands and taste Geralt’s scars for the first time.
“If you’ll excuse me, I need to go take a shit. Must be the caviar.”
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bambirex · 1 year ago
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The World Is Yours, If You Seek The Good: Chapter 12
Pairings: Geraskefer, Yennskier, Geraskier, Yenralt
Characters: Jaskier, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt of Rivia, Ciri of Cintra, Lambert
Additional tags: implied/referenced abuse, forced pregnancy, mpreg, creature fic, fae Jaskier, creature Jaskier, creature Yennefer, captivity, enemies to friends to lovers, polyamory, found family, hurt/comfort, it starts out angsty but it will get better, completely made up lore, fertility issues, completely made up skills and powers, angst, angst with a happy ending, whump, Jaskier whump, Yennefer whump, intersex Jaskier, Ciri whump, Geralt whump, blood, nightmares, injury, wound care
Rating: mature
Full word count: 37,220 words
Chapter word count: 2,989 words
Chapters: 12/?
Summary: Used and abused by humans, Jaskier and Yennefer believe they are alone and with no reason to trust anybody. That is, until they meet each other - and then, a couple of other strange misfits.
Chapter summary: Jaskier and Yennefer have a heart to heart that helps the both of them get over their fears and doubts. Geralt teaches Ciri some important things.
Author's notes: MAJOR TRIGGER WARNING for a lot of pregnancy talk in this chapter, especially leaning into the forced/unwanted side of it, so if that's something that makes you uncomfortable, please, skip this chapter or at least the first half of it for your own sake!
Read on Ao3
*
Positioning his lute against his growing belly was getting harder and harder to do each day. The first time he experienced a pregnancy, Jaskier felt tremendously sad over this, since playing his instrument and singing along was one of the only small comforts in his life while he was in captivity. He wanted to bash his lute against the wall, claw his stomach open and tear himself from the inside out when it first happened. He screamed and cried and mourned the life that was taken away from him.
It never got any easier, but his emotions dulled enough for it to be a bit more bearable. He became desensitized to the discomfort, to the alien feeling of being a guest inside his own body. Jaskier could barely remember a time when it truly belonged to only him.
Strangely, now as he struggled to place his lute over the parts of his lap that weren't yet covered by his bump, he laughed. Something that used to be so humiliating, was now almost endearing. Somehow, he didn't hate the child growing within him.
He was never allowed to think of them as children because he knew he would get too attached, then, and it would hurt all the more when he had to give them away to the humans. He thought of them as invaders of his body, as things that were put in there for someone else's needs. He had to, because it made it easier to handle the heartache of seeing yet another baby ripped out of his arms. They were never his, not even for a fleeting moment.
Jaskier didn’t know what the future had in store for him, but he was certain he was never going back to Master. He would rather die than live like that again, as a pretty decoration, an entertaining toy. He found something that finally gave meaning to his sad, lonely life. Maybe it was too soon to say, but Jaskier felt like he's found himself a family. And he didn't want to leave them.
He felt a small kick against his belly and he chuckled.
"What, you like my misery? You find it funny that I can't play properly?"
Another kick. Jaskier ran his hand over the place where he felt the little feet. He swallowed when he felt them press against his hand.
"I don't know what to think of you," Jaskier told the baby honestly, rubbing over his swollen stomach. "What am I allowed to call you? Are you mine? Kick once for no, twice for yes."
Nothing happened. Jaskier chuckled at his own silliness. Then, two little kicks in quick succession. Jaskier's eyes welled with tears.
"Don't lie to me," Jaskier whispered, "I can't handle it if you're just joking."
He heard the soft sound of someone clearing their throat. He looked up to see Yennefer standing in the doorway, awkwardly shifting from one foot to the other.
"Hey," Jaskier greeted her, forcing a smile through his tears. Yennefer stared at him for a few seconds with an unreadable expression, before she spoke.
"Hi. You okay?"
"Of course. Why wouldn't I be?" Jaskier chuckled. "Just, uh, talking to myself. No big deal."
"You weren't talking to yourself," Yennefer pointed out as she walked inside the room. "You were talking to the baby."
"Fine, maybe I was," Jaskier held his hands up in defeat. "Ciri is downstairs cooking with Geralt. I'm bored."
"You could have joined us," Yennefer told him. She sat on the bed. "Geralt was asking about you."
"Oh," Jaskier felt his cheeks warm up. He shrugged with a sheepish smile. "He must be wondering why I'm not eating everything in his house for once."
"He likes you," Yennefer said, her smile genuine. "And I think you like him, too."
"Well, you can't deny he's a gorgeous hunk of a man, Yennefer."
"It's more than that."
Jaskier snorted softly. "Then I guess I'm not alone with that. I've seen how you look at him, too. You can't deny you've warmed up to the witcher."
The flush on Yennefer's cheeks, and her fleeting smile made Jaskier grin.
"Thought so."
"Shut up, you moron," Yennefer scoffed, her cheeks still pink.
She looked down on Jaskier's stomach, her small smile fading. Jaskier bit his lip. He knew what it meant. She tried to hide it, but she always looked at him that way. There was a deep ache, a longing in her eyes.
There was a time when Jaskier thought he and Yennefer would never get along well. There was a time where he thought that being from such vastly different species, they would never find common ground. And yet, there was a bond between them, which got deeper and deeper as they went through all the horrible things back at their owner - and now, they were going through something else together, something lovely. At the bottom of it all, there was him, a chatty fae who fell in love with a sassy witch. And he may have not known what exactly did Yennefer feel for him, he knew she trusted and cared for him.
He knew about the pain Yennefer hid under her angry exterior, the loneliness and the loss. And like he's promised her he would try and make sure she would get through things okay when she was dragged home from the market all those months ago, he was more than ready to keep caring for her the way she deserved.
And that care had to come with honesty.
"I know you think it's a gift," Jaskier started. He cupped his belly, Yennefer's eyes following his movements. She swallowed audibly.
"That I can carry children."
"It looks like that to me," Yennefer replied honestly. "I can't do that. I wish I could."
"It would be a gift, I think. If I was allowed to do it on my own terms."
He took a deep breath. The baby shifted in him again, as if trying to calm him.
"I was very young when I had the first child. I was terrified. I wasn't prepared. And I did not want it, not like that, with the knowledge it's not really mine. That they would be taken away at the end."
His throat tightened painfully. He felt Yennefer's eyes on him all the while.
"You carry them inside your body for months, but you don't get to cherish it. The kicks, the little movements... they do not belong to you. Your body... it's not yours anymore. It's a vessel for someone else. And you go through all that pain, that discomfort, completely alone. Not with a mate to hold your hand, not with a family to have your back. You have a heartless Master who only checks on you to make sure you would deliver a healthy product. That's what he called them. The babies. He called them products."
He blinked against the tears in his eyes. He heard Yennefer take in a sharp, shaky breath.
"I don't hate being pregnant," Jaskier explained quietly. "I guess I did, in the beginning, but only because it was forced on me. I wanna have a baby. A child. I do. I wanna know what it's like to bring my own child into this world, to myself and people that would care about them. But I never had that, and I kept brushing it under the rug but Yennefer, I hate that I never had that."
When he looked up, he noticed Yennefer's eyes were shiny with tears. It made his composure crumble even more.
"I was much lonelier than I let on. And then... you came along."
He gave Yennefer a wobbly smile. "You, and your strormy violet eyes, your death threats and your constant hissing. Your acidic insults and your thinly masked self-loathing that manifested in hatred for everyone. You... and your lonely, hurt heart. You and your emotions that you weren't allowed to feel. The kindness, the love, the gentleness in you. The beauty that was not dangerous, but soft. Something that deserved to be cherished."
A tear ran down Yennefer's face as she told him to stop it. But Jaskier wasn't finished.
"I love you, Yennefer," he told her as he wiped at his eyes with a wet little laugh. "You're my exact opposite and yet, you are just like me. Lonely. Used and abused by humans. Abandoned and humiliated. You came along and it was like looking into a mirror. I don't know what this thing is between us, but I know I never want to lose it."
He reached for Yennefer's hand carefully. Yennefer immediately squeezed his without hesitation.
"And then we met Ciri. This brave girl who's suffered like us, whose heart remained kind and pure despite what she's been through. A true inspiration. A wonderful child. The first child that maybe... will stick around. I love her. Like she's my child, and that's silly, right? But it's true. I care about her. And I don't care who wants to get their dirty hands on her, I won't let them. I will grow a whole forest around them and bury them under the trees before I'd let them hurt her."
"Who knew you had such a violent streak in you," Yennefer chuckled softly. Jaskier shook his head.
"You bring this out of me. Not violence, but... bravery. Something I lacked before. Geralt... he's making me brave, too. Because I see this man, who isn't even supposed to feel anything and yet he feels so much. He's a wonderful father, a great friend... so much more human than the ones who call themselves such. He's strong, not just in his body, but in his heart. He would do everything to protect his daughter, and now us. And it means a lot to me. That he had no reason to trust us, but he still does, that he's willing to put everything aside to keep everyone safe. I love him."
Tears fell onto his shirt, soaking the soft material as he looked down on his stomach.
"And this baby...I don't know, for the first time in my life, I think maybe I'll get to keep them? They might be a part of me that will finally stay. I want them to. I want them to be mine. I feel like after we escaped our owner, we all got a new life. And I want this life to be great, I want to share that life with you and Geralt and Ciri and maybe this baby, too... because I think I love this baby."
He broke down sobbing, wringing an arm over his face. He felt arms wrap around him and pull him close, fingers threading through his hair soothingly. He buried his face in Yennefer's chest as she shushed him.
"Thank you," Yennefer whispered, her own tears falling onto Jaskier's head. "Thank you, for telling me this. It means a lot, you know? Because I envied you so much for being able to get pregnant. I hated you for it. My own body did not belong to me either. It never did. It was used like yours. And it was hollow. Devoid of the things yours had. I always wanted to create something but the humans made sure I never could."
She pulled back to cup Jaskier's face, gently making him look into her eyes.
"But you know what? Fuck the humans. Fuck everyone who made us feel like we weren't worthy. Who told us we were only useful for our womb, or who made us feel like shit for the lack of it. Because we both create beautiful things, Jaskier. Look at us! Look at what we have together! Look at what we're doing with Ciri, with Geralt! It may not be much, but it means something, right?"
"Right," Jaskier sniffled. He let himself lean into Yennefer's touch as she gently wiped his tears away with her thumb.
"I never thought I'd have this," Yennefer admitted. She pressed her forehead against Jaskier's, taking a deep breath.
"I thought I would be alone all my life. And I kept saying I was fine with that, because who would ever love me, anyway? I was called scary, dangerous, hideous... I never had a bond with anyone. The closest to it was another drepima. We spent like, what, four days together? I did like her. But then she was beaten to death. And I promised myself I would never get attached to anyone. My kind isn't cut out for that."
"You never told me about this," Jaskier said quietly. Yennefer swallowed.
"I know. I only just told Geralt about it, too. He was the one that pointed out that it may have hurt me more than I let on. I believed I wasn't deserving of care, of friendship, love... of a family. And I genuinely did not like you in the beginning."
Jaskier chuckled. "Yeah, that much was obvious."
"I hated you for being everything I couldn't be, and I hated you for still being so kind to me. It scared me. To be treated with care. I wanted to keep you away from me, but... I love you too, you little asshole. You've grown on me like a particularly clingy, annoying moss, and you know what? I'm fine with that. And I'm fine with sticking with you. And Ciri... she does feel like a child to me, too. Something I thought I could never have. Geralt... yes, I do love him. He's different from what I imagined him to be. All my life, I've been surrounded by hatred and fear. Chaos and destruction. Now... now, it feels like I'm building something. A family, maybe."
"You deserve a family, Yen," Jaskier told her, the nickname slipping out easily. Yennefer didn't seem to mind, if her smile was anything to go by.
"We all deserve a family. I know I probably can't get my own back. I'm not sure they're even alive. But that does not mean I have to be alone, right? We could be a family. The four of us."
"Five," Yennefer corrected him softly. Jaskier noticed she was looking at his stomach again - and for the first time, instead of the painful longing and envy, he saw something else in her eyes. Something like awe.
"Can I..." Yennefer whispered, her smile wobbling, "would you mind if I...?"
"No," Jaskier replied softly. He took Yennefer's shaking hands and guided them to his belly. Yennefer took in a sharp breath as she placed her palm over the swell of Jaskier's belly.
"How do you feel?" Jaskier asked her. Yennefer opened her mouth, but no words came out. Then, she smiled again, bright and genuine. Jaskier's heart fluttered at the sight.
"Great," Yennefer replied earnestly. She let out a soft gasp along with Jaskier when the baby kicked again, fluttering excitedly against Jaskier's skin.
"They like you," Jaskier grinned. Yennefer laughed through her tears as she gently caressed the curve of his belly, making the baby kick and roll inside him again.
The sight of Yennefer smiling as she held his belly was everything to him. It was beautiful, genuine. It was perfect.
"Yen," he whispered, causing her to look up at him curiously. "Can I kiss you?"
"Yes," Yennefer replied without hesitation. Jaskier gently cupped her cheeks as he leaned in and pressed their lips together. Yennefer's hands remained on his belly as she kissed him back happily, melting into him.
--
Ciri could barely believe her ears when Geralt told her it was time for her to learn some swordsmanship. She's been begging him for ages to teach her how to fight, but Geralt always refused, claiming it was better if she stayed out of trouble.
"What changed now?" She asked, curiously watching Geralt packing away their food and grabbing two swords. He handed Ciri the lighter one with a smile.
"I decided to stop being dishonest with you," Geralt told her. He placed a hand on her back as he led her outside. "Now you know everything about yourself. You know why I said the world was a dangerous place. You were right when you said you're stronger than anyone in this house. Not just because of your powers."
He placed his left foot forward and drew out his sword, motioning for Ciri to do the same. Ciri stood next to him and mimicked his movements.
"I will keep protecting you," Geralt promised as he swung his sword around in the air, deliberately slowing his movements down so Ciri could easily copy him. "But that does not mean you should be kept from protecting yourself. Yennefer will help you control your powers, and I can help show you how to fight even when you can't rely on them."
Ciri grinned at him. There was something different about Geralt now: he was a bit less stoic, a bit more open. Ciri wondered if revealing her family's history was what did this to him, or his clearly growing feelings for Yennefer and Jaskier. It was perhaps a combination of both.
"We're supposed to be training," Geralt reminded her as he caught her staring. Ciri laughed.
"I'm sorry. I'm just happy, you know? Things are so scary now, but you're making them okay."
She placed her sword down on the ground and hugged Geralt tightly. Geralt wrapped his arms around her in return.
"We're all gonna be okay, right?" She asked against Geralt's chest. Geralt hummed as he gently ruffled her hair.
"I'll make sure of it," he promised. "We all will. No matter what happens, we won't abandon each other."
"That includes Jaskier and Yennefer too, right?" Ciri asked, looking up at Geralt hopefully. Geralt smiled.
"Of course."
Ciri put her head back on his chest with a happy smile. Right now, no matter how uncertain the future may looked, she truly believed they would all be okay.
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underpreparedbard · 3 years ago
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I already posted this on my AO3 but I thought tumblr might like it! I’m still relatively new to this so feedback is appreciated!
~
✨I Saw You Staring✨
~
CW: description of violence/injury
~
Description: Geralt learns a bit about Jaskier’s past, and realised he may not be the pampered rich kid he thought he was
~
The path doesn’t offer much in the way of privacy. Most of the time you’re sleeping outside after walking all day, so modesty tends to be thrown out the window pretty early on. Jaskier learnt this the hard way. Sure, he wasn’t exactly used to the life of a noble anymore, but at the very least he usually managed to fall into bed with someone who didn’t have to watch him bathe (although sometimes that was fun...).
He’d been travelling with Geralt for just under 2 weeks when his resolve finally broke.
“Geralt!” He shouted at the man riding on top of a chestnut coloured mare. “I can’t believe I’m about to say this, but I need a bath. Is there a river or something near here?”
“Finally realised there’s not many options for cleanliness out here?” Geralt smirked at him. He fucking smirked. As though he’d been waiting for this for days, which he probably had.
“You don’t have to look so smug about it, let’s just find somewhere and get it over with. I fear I’m beginning to smell like one of those monsters you hunt.”
A few minutes later, Geralt walked them over to a small clearing with a stream nearby. He dismounted and began rooting through his bags for an apple for Roach. Meanwhile Jaskier, who cared more about being clean than being stark naked in front of another man, was already beginning to strip off his clothes and fold them on the grass. Geralt began to turn away to offer the bard at least a small amount of privacy, when he saw a messy scar on the left side of the bards chest. It looked as though it was from a knife, or possibly a sword. The bard looked no older than 18, how could someone have tried to kill him already?
He was pulled out of his thoughts by Jaskier rushing into the stream and dunking under the water. He quickly shook his head and carried on feeding Roach, trying to push down the feeling of...sadness? Was that the right word? It wasn’t like he actually liked the bard. Just didn’t particularly want him to die. Or get hurt. Or lose the best years of his life travelling with a Witcher when he could be playing at courts, he was more than talented enough.
Oh fuck, Geralt liked the bard.
“Are you going to ask, then?” Jaskier called from the stream, almost making Geralt flinch.
“Ask about what?”
“My scar. I saw you staring. I’m sure you of all people are used to being asked about things like that.”
Geralt tried not to cringe at that. He was used to it, his body was littered with scars from various monsters and people he’d encountered over the years. It’s not something he’d wish on anybody.
“How did it happen? Get into a fight over a doublet?”
Jaskier huffed a laugh at that. “No, not quite. More of a family dispute, I suppose.”
Geralt watched Jaskier, indicating for him to continue.
The bard sighed, but carried on. “Jaskier isn’t my real name. My birth name is Julian Alfred Pankratz. Quite the mouthful, I know. I was also born with a title, Viscount of Lettenhove. I’m a noble, or was a noble I suppose. My title isn’t exactly mine anymore.”
The Witcher furrowed his eyebrows, wondering how one could just stop being a noble. Before he could ask, Jaskier continued his story.
“My parents were horrid people at the best of times. Filled with resentment towards me and my sisters, always trying to get us to follow in their footsteps and do things their way. I just wanted to play music, I didn’t want that responsibility or pressure.” Jaskier stopped speaking for a moment, his face turned towards the water below him as though he was trying to hide his emotion. Geralt wasn’t sure if he knew that Witcher’s could sense it, and Geralt could feel his deep sadness. He thought it best not to mention it.
“I get my love of people from my mother. She was always incredibly social, both at parties and in her bed, so I didn’t see much of her as a child. Not that I minded. But her habits made my father incredibly angry, as I’m sure you can imagine. He started to question everything she did, mostly while he was drunk, including the legitimacy of his children. I’m sure you can see where I’m going with this.”
“Hm.” Not the most articulate response, but Geralt didn’t want Jaskier to feel as though he had to stop telling his story.
“One night, after a particularly large amount of beer, my father confronted her about it while she was trying to introduce me to some Princess. No doubt trying to arrange a marriage of some sort. She was mortified, and they started screaming at eachother. Eventually she’d had enough and claimed I wasn’t his biological child in front of everyone. Needless to say he was angry and drunk and those things mixed with a knife doesn’t exactly bode well.” He gestured to his chest. “So I ran away, they disowned me, I almost died, and now I’m a bard.”
He said that last sentence in such a blasé way compared to the rest of the story that Geralt couldn’t stop the shocked expression that crept into his face.
“How old were you?” Geralt asked.
“15. So I’ve been on my own for 3 years. Until I met you.” Jaskier smiled at Geralt before ducking his head under the water to rinse his hair. The corner of Geralts mouth turned up a little at that. He felt an overwhelming urge to protect the young troubadour. Something he’d not felt before.
As he watched Jaskier walk out of the stream and begin to dress, he vowed that the man would never be alone again.
And for a long time, he wasn’t.
~
Hope you enjoyed! Have a look at my AO3 if you’re interested!
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Note
"You look like shit." "I'm doing my best."
Songs used for this prompt: 
“She’s Got You” and “Sure as Hell Not Jesus”, both by Cosmo Jarvis
---
The guy playing some tiny stringed instrument and singing into the bar’s beer-scented microphone is surprisingly cute. Geralt feels a pang of guilt when he takes a moment to listen to the lyrics that fill the room up to the rafters with heavenly sound:
“I don’t care what you do, She says she’s in love with you But I know the devil wears a thousand faces.”
Geralt orders himself a straight whiskey on the rocks and moves closer to the makeshift stage to better hear the words. It feels as if they’ve been crafted especially for him; especially for the situation he’s come to find himself in. 
“So what you telling me, That you found love truly, But let go or you’ll forget the basics... “Like who’s your friends, you know, The ones you always told you trusted; But you’re a double agent.”
The singer has soft, feathery brown hair that sits against his forehead like something out of a 2007 emo calendar shoot and eyes the color of... well fuck me, Geralt thinks, those are the prettiest blue eyes I’ve ever seen in my life. 
Whoever this guy is, he’s at least five years or so younger than Geralt, still with a babyish roundness to his face, but his hands move across the strings with the confidence of a seasoned performer. He’s been doing this awhile and he loves it. Geralt can tell by the way his voice wavers and pitches through the lyrics like he’s living every word for the very first time. 
“Yes everybody tries, To run two perfect lives, But you’ve changed and boy I cannot take it.
“Minute by minute, A love sweet love, I don’t get why you haven’t had enough. Second by second, It wears you away and you’re gone.”
After this particular section the musician glances up into the crowd to make solid eye contact with Geralt. He plays a series of descending notes with perfect clarity and winks. The white-haired biker ducks his head and takes a sip of his drink, flinching at the strength but appreciative of the smoky notes nonetheless.
“When will you just learn she’s got you Wrapped round her little finger? When will you just learn she’s got you Wrapped round her little finger?”
He glances up again. Was this guy stalking him or what? The only reason he’d stopped in for a drink at all was because of Yen’s constant arguing over the past few days. He loved her, sure, but things weren’t really working out. Every tiny issue seemed to explode into a fight. Every possible way to talk things through went ignored because she wanted a chance to prove her independence and strength; what was the point of having a significant other if you constantly made them feel so horrifically insignificant?
Geralt often wondered why he’d gotten together with the gorgeous but impersonal spitfire in the first place. She wasn’t even really his type, all things considered; but he loves her, he knows. 
The rest of the song finishes out and Geralt sits in his comfortable chair still staring into his half-finished glass of mostly melted ice and some whisky. He downs the rest of it in two gulps and heads back to the bar to order a glass of beer. He doesn’t want to remember what’s waiting for him at home. Doesn’t want to think about Yennefer for the rest of the evening; not with those blue eyes boring twin holes into the back of his leather jacket. 
A new song starts up, soft but insistent. It demands his attention. The musician demands his attention without saying a single word to him directly. Geralt feels drawn to him and cannot fathom a reason why. 
“Here I sit; If I didn't need nobody, I'd thank God for it, There'd be nothing that'd stop me getting on with it... “It'd be me and my brain And my pain And my shame...”
No but really, has this kid been following Geralt around with a notepad, jotting down every failure and misstep to write these songs? Geralt sits even closer to the stage this time, at a table so near to the performer that he could reach out and touch the handsome musician if he wanted to. He does want to, but he also knows that it would be incredibly strange and rude to do so without consent (or even introducing himself).
The man on stage just looks so soft. Soft and tender in a way that Yennefer refuses to be. Can’t be, maybe. 
“Guess I am No big and strong Goliath, I'm a wandering man; And sometimes I get tired and I'm glad a hand Comes and slaps me and then It goes again. I guess you're my friend...”
Geralt listens to the rest of the song with a thoughtful look on his face; every word that spills from the singer’s gorgeously pink lips hits him in a new and different way. This is exactly what he’d needed. He gets out his phone and shoots the violet-eyed demon in his living room a quick text.
To: Yen
We need to talk tonight, but you should pack your shit just in case. 
When the little ‘read’ notification popped up he nearly cried with relief. It felt amazing. It felt freeing. He felt like he might sleep for the first time in fucking weeks without her icy presence beside him in the bed, her back turned to his in a show of obstinate, personally enforced loneliness. 
Geralt is a cuddler by nature and Yen always makes him feel so weak for needing to be touched. To be loved. She doesn’t need it so why should he? But he does. He really does. 
“You're sure as hell not Jesus, but you're saving me! Thank you very much for putting faith in me, Reminding me a light was once so great to be. I'm glad I made a friend that doesn't pray for me!”
After the song is finished, the musician sets his instrument aside and wanders over to Geralt’s table, plopping himself across from the scowling man with incredible ease. He gestures vaguely at the bartender, who sets a strange purple drink in a martini glass before him almost immediately. He stirs it absentmindedly before smiling guilelessly up at Geralt, “You look like shit.”
His voice is somehow stronger when he’s not singing and Geralt loves it. He wants to listen to this man speak and sing and laugh all night; he doesn’t want to go home. He doesn’t want to face the future yet. He wants this moment to last forever. Instead of saying any of that, Geralt shoots the stranger a half-cocked smirk and says: “I’m doing my best.”
“That’s really all we can do. My name’s Jaskier, by the way.”
“Geralt.”
“Cool. Very old-fashioned. Like something out of a storybook,” the brunette, Jaskier, grins. “You like my music?”
“Yeah. I needed to hear it tonight, I think.”
“Always glad to be of service, Geralt.”
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jakeonao3 · 2 years ago
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have it all
geraskier & merthur, 2.8k words, WIP
Jaskier and Geralt are on the road, lost. They don't know they're close to Camelot until Merlin and Arthur come into view. Geralt didn't know his bard was friends with Emrys, as in the god Emrys. They introduce themselves, or better yet, Jaskier does the introductions, and after those, Arthur and Merlin decide to let Jaskier and Geralt stay in Camelot for a while.
tags under the cut
Additional Tags: Court Sorcerer Merlin (Merlin), Once and Future King, Merlin is Emrys (Merlin), jaskier and merlin are long lost besties, Timeline What Timeline, Historical Inaccuracy, A lot of them - Freeform, Arthur Knows About Merlin's Magic (Merlin), obviously, if he's court sorcerer, Merlin is also a shapeshifter, because he's so powerful he's learned to do that too, SO, Powerful Merlin (Merlin), Castles, King Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Bard Jaskier | Dandelion, God Merlin (Merlin), Kinda, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, like it's the narrator that's talking, but you know the thoughts of the people's povs, I'm not good at explaining, you'll get it if you read it :), Implied Sexual Content, Getting Together, First Kiss, First Time, Holding Hands, Witcher Senses (The Witcher), Merlin helps him through it though
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samstree · 3 years ago
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number 3 for the casual affection for geraskier? 💛
Exceptions
Casual affection asks: 3. “laying their hand on the other’s leg”
Or, the mortifying ordeal of being known. (read on AO3)
A passionate Jaskier is not to be distracted.
Once the mood strikes, he will go into the most excruciating details on music theory while Geralt resigns to the reality that their night is going to be filled with his bard’s voice. It’s not a bad voice, one of Geralt’s favorites, even.
Although he still hasn’t admitted it out loud.
This part is implied in the tiny smile at the corners of his mouth, one that he half-heartedly tried to hide while Jaskier starts to demonstrate the evolution of playing positions of the lute. An excited flush paints the bard’s cheeks rosy-pink as the lecture goes on, and, of course, ends up in another tirade about Valdo Marx.
“…seriously, if he’s a testament of the teaching quality of Cidaris, I’d say no parent should ever send their child to the coast for music education again! No scenery can make up for the lack of appreciation of art—Geralt, are you even listening? Anyway, the worst part is that the masses are still so taken with him…”
The smile on Geralt’s face blooms. A passionate, rambling Jaskier is not to be distracted.
Except—
When Geralt puts a hand on his lap and squeezes his thigh gently. Amber eyes meet cornflower blue with a quiet plea. That’s how Jaskier knows something is needed from him. Something important.
The string of complaints halts immediately. The only sounds left are the crackling of campfire and leaves rustling in the cool autumn wind.
“What is it?” Jaskier asks, frowning.
Geralt only gazes upon his bard with all the softness in his chest, before shifting his attention to those lips. He leans in, ever so slowly, giving Jaskier enough time to react, to pull away if he wishes to.
He doesn’t.
The kiss is sweet, unhurried, and with the lute between them, even a little awkward. Jaskier lets out a gasp as Geralt pulls away. He chases with a whine.
Geralt makes sure his voice is dark with desire. “Don’t let me interrupt you,” he says and prides himself in the beet-red flush stretching all the way down Jaskier’s neck.
The bard licks his lips. His half-lidded eyes gleam dreamily.
“Huh…?”
Jaskier looks like he’s forgotten every last thought, so Geralt pulls him into another kiss.
 ---
A determined Geralt is not to be stopped.
Especially when the determination serves to protect. One should learn not to interfere with a Geralt trying to keep someone safe.
Although a bard may disagree.
Jaskier wakes to hushed arguing in the room. He’s curled up on his side. The bed is too warm and the pillow too soft. The urge to squirm is overwhelming, but the stitches on his back tug uncomfortably, preventing him from rolling away.
“…I didn’t save your bard from the brink of death again for you to throw your life away, Geralt.”
Is it Yennefer? It sounds like her, so annoyed as usual but somehow always correct.
The mattress dips near Jaskier’s stomach, and he realizes Geralt is perched on the edge. Facing away, he doesn’t notice Jaskier has woken up. “He came after Jaskier once already. I can’t let him do it again.”
“Remember you are hurt just as bad.” Triss is here too, and a lot calmer. “You won’t even be able to cast signs. How do you suppose you can fight?”
Geralt scowls in frustration.
Even from behind, Jaskier can imagine the determined look on his witcher’s face. That’s never good because it means he’ll charge into whatever danger headfirst. Jaskier wants to protest, but all he manages is a pained grunt. A hand rubs soothing circles into his knee, but Geralt doesn’t look around.
“For heaven’s sake. Are the two of you not capable of seeing senses at the same time?” Yennefer growls in return, but a murmur from Triss sends her pacing away. “Don’t make me fight you, Geralt. You will regret it.”
“Then don’t fight me!”
Triss is the one in Jaskier’s view now, her expression displeased but still patient.
“Yenna is right. We better rest, recover, and then make plans for the future. You are being too impulsive to be reasonable.”
As if reason is on Geralt’s mind in this state. Yen’s fury won’t work on him, nor will Triss’s logic.
Jaskier’s face scrunches up in his struggle, but Geralt only tucks in the blanket at his cold feet.
“There’s nothing you can say to convince me. I know both of you are trying to help, but…I need to do this,” Geralt says with finality. “Take care of Jaskier while I’m gone.”
The mattress shifts and Geralt makes a move to leave. Yennefer starts full-on shouting again. In a panic, Jaskier grabs blindly with all the strength he can muster, and his boneless hand land on Geralt’s lap. Tears well up in his eyes, from the wound and from the white-hot fear. The weakest, most pathetic sound escapes his throat, but it’s unimportant. Jaskier has to stop Geralt, even if he feels barely lucid, even if his witcher is an unstoppable force right now.
And then, everything stills.
Jaskier blinks, and all he can see are worried amber eyes, the fight in them completely gone. Warm hands are at his temple, tucking away strands of hair and wiping away the tears.
“Stay.”
The word is no more than a broken whisper, but that’s all Geralt needs. He catches Jaskier’s shaky hand and holds on to it. The promise shouldn’t be this easy, but it is, because Jaskier asked.
“Okay.”
Geralt stays.
---
This prompt is so soft. Thanks for sending it! <3
Tagging: @wanderlust-t @rockysstupidity @flowercrown-bard​ @alllthequeenshorses @mothmanismyuncle @percy-jackson-is-sexy- @constantlytiredpigeon @behonesthowsmysinging @kitcatkim3 @endless-whump @rey-a-nonbinary-bisexual @llamasdumpsterfire @dapandapod
Please feel free to tell me if you want to be removed or added to the list <3
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driverpicksthemooseic · 3 years ago
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HOLY CRAP. I've FINALLY finished my damn Geraskier fic. If you're interested in creature!Jaskier, a side of implied future Yen/Ger/Jas poly, and somewhat of a S2 finale fix-it, maybe give it a go?
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reveniemus · 3 years ago
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kali's masterlist
belatedly realizing a rebloggable masterlist is a better idea than a page is kalicore.
anyways, hi, i'm kali, sometimes i write witcher things, i've started writing stranger things things. i am, in fact, always happy to take prompts (prompts i've rb'd here) and am willing to try any trope/prompt/ship once, but it might be a minute til i actually write bc muse is a fickle bitch an all that jazz. if you have any questions or concerns pls lmk and i'm happy to add tags to anything you think might be necessary xoxo
last update: 21 sep 2022
tag list under the cut - lmk if you want to be added/removed
WITCHER ONE SHOTS
hide the chemistry - geraskier, G, 787 - tumblr | ao3
keep the world at bay - geraskefer, E, 3k - tumblr | ao3
look up at the storm - geraskier lite, G, 1k - ao3
starts off like a pinprick - dad!ralt & teen!ciri, implied future!geraskier, G, 1k - tumblr | ao3
little victories feel big - dad!ralt & kid!ciri, G, 1k - tumblr | ao3
geraskier in angst major, no 1 - geraskier, T, 1k - tumblr | ao3
yenralt in yearning, act i - yenralt, T, 1k - tumblr | ao3
kaer morhen in wistful, no 1 - jaskier & ciri, G, 407 - tumblr | ao3
lambskier in comfort minor, no 1 - lambskier, G, 730 - tumblr | ao3
the noise i cannot shake - geraskefer, DD/E, 2k - tumblr | ao3
unwanted daughters - yennefer, T, 1k - tumblr | ao3
hear it howling - geralt/jaskier/eskel/lambert, DD/E, 2k - tumblr | ao3
i'll find an end - geraskier, M, 1k - tumblr | ao3
between every page, every chord - geraskier, T, 1k - tumblr | ao3
find you all unwoven - yenralt, T, 806 - tumblr | ao3
for all the strings you tune - jaskel, E, 2.9k - ao3
you'd swoon, you'd sigh - geraskier, E, 3k - ao3
engraved upon my heart - geraskier, G, 2k - ao3
the wind don't cower to powerful men - renfri, M, 819 - ao3
dance in the rain - jaskel, E, 4.6k - ao3
hands in empty pockets - geraskier, G, 325 - ao3
ghost of you - geraskier, T, 12k - ao3
DON'T LIE WITH YOUR EYES series (witcher)
geraskier in yearning, no 3 (alternatively, come back to you again) - geraskier, G, 2.5k - tumblr | ao3
geraskier in angst major, no 2 - geraskier, T, 3k - tumblr | ao3
RAISED BY WOLVES AND VOICES series (witcher)
wolves in angst minor - duny/pavetta, gen, T, 896 - tumblr | ao3
bard in a sharp - dettlaff/jaskier, T, 981 - tumblr | ao3
wolves in autumn - gen, G, 636 - tumblr | ao3
bards in a flat - jasker & dandelion, G, 873 - tumblr | ao3
geraskefer in exposition - geraskier, G, 862 - tumblr | ao3
devour what's truly yours - geraskier, DD/E, 1k - tumblr | ao3
NOT SHY OF A SPARK series (stranger things)
lookin' for a downtown man - pre-steddie, G, 3.5k - ao3
even if the earth starts shakin' - post-s4, steddie, T, 15k - ao3
TAG LIST
@geraltrogerericduhautebellegarde, @officerjennie, @calamarisnapfish, @kuripon, @jaskierswolf, @deeplywornletters, @wanderlust-t, @alllthequeenshorses
KO-FI | DD:DNE CONTENT
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rebrandedbard · 4 years ago
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@greyduckgreygoose Tumblr ate your ask when I tried posting it two minutes ago. You requested prompts 5 or 6, which I choose to read as 5 and 6. Stay tuned for prompt 6 in the future. If you like this, perhaps I’ll make it more Valdo. Whump or healing—you pull the trigger, goosey. Or perhaps I’ll use prompt 6 for some Filavandrel fun. Let me know.
5. “Wait a minute. Are you jealous?”
tw: alcohol, depression
WC: 1600 even. Whoo! Even hundredth place! Two goose eggs!
A Good Man
Geralt meets Valdo Marx while taking a contract on a ferry, protecting its passengers from an unknown threat on the water. Valdo himself is an unknown threat, until the two of them get to talking, and Geralt learns a quiet truth.
Geraskier. One-sided Valdo/Jaskier
-
Valdo Marx, troubadour of Cidaris, was the last person Geralt expected to meet on the ferry from Brugge. Per Jaskier’s rambling, he’d assumed the bard stayed put, living it up in Oxenfurt or Cidaris—Geralt was never quite sure if Cidaris were his home or simply a place he’d chosen for his adopted title. He’d wondered if Jaskier were a ‘Bard of Thereabouts,’ but he was never curious enough to ask where-abouts. They both travelled so much, Jaskier could be from anywhere. Something told him that Jaskier would choose Lyria if asked; the name was lyrical.
But Geralt supposed bards were of a travelling nature after all. Besides, the ferry down the Yda was the fasted way to travel inland from Brugge to Craag An, and just beyond was the Adalatte. A straight shot through Kerack would have Marx home in Cidaris in no time at all, and people with coin to spare liked to hurry to and fro in laid-back comfort. It was a paradox Geralt often found amusing.
He paid no fare for his ride, having been hired on for protection. It would seem that, of late, people were disappearing from the ferry before reaching their final destination, reaching a much more final destination than anticipated. Drowners, probably. Sirens were less likely, but not entirely out of the realm of possibility. The channels were connected to the ocean; something could have come washing downriver. It wasn’t altogether unheard of to find displaced sirens after the summer rainstorms. If asked which he’d be more likely to meet, Geralt would have chosen sirens before Valdo Marx.
Geralt recognized him as a bard from the off: it was impossible to mistaken anything so brightly decorated. True, the man did not carry his lute about his person as Jaskier would, but he wore the uniform of satin, the season’s colors all in coordination and too impractical for the weather. It was a mark of their trade, their plumage like birds of paradise and that theatrical air.
Well, the atmosphere around Marx was less the foppish theatrics Geralt had come to expect. He did not saunter across the deck wooing a crowd, nor reciting poetry. He did not do much of anything to draw attention to himself. In fact, he was quite unlike anything that made up Geralt’s image of bards, drawing back against the bulwark, completely silent. Like a fool, Geralt presumed they would go all the way to Craag An without confrontation, but it would be a snowy day in the desert before bards acted predictably.
It was late afternoon the second day on board when he approached, the sun falling low, bringing on the evening. Geralt was keeping watch at the stern: if anything was about it would be disturbed, knocked back as the ship made headway, clawing its way onto the deck from the rear. Geralt kept to the lower main deck, closest to the water. If anything came crawling up from below, he would be in position to dispatch it. The passengers aboard had likely been warned beforehand, or else they’d heard the rumors, as they stayed on the upper deck and bow. With the lower deck abandoned, he easily read Valdo’s approach from a distance.
“White Wolf?” he asked, leaning casually a few feet away from Geralt. The question was monotone, almost disinterested, but he would not have come if there had been no reason.
There was nothing else to do and, truth be told, Geralt was bored. So he turned to Valdo and nodded. “Geralt,” he replied. He’d never quite grow used to the fanciful title, but it brought him good business. It made him recognizable, and therefore comfortable, in so much as anyone could be comfortable around a witcher. Reputations had influence.
“Valdo Marx. I’m sure you heard of me.”
Geralt hummed. There was something in his manner of speech. It was not an obnoxious flaunt of his fame: there was something resigned in it. Bitter, perhaps. It was the same tone Lambert used to say, “There was a wraith in Gulet. I’m sure you’ve already heard.” It had taken a witcher down from the school of the viper. The tone implied notoriety.
For a while, they did not speak. The only sound came from the water below lapping against the side of the ship. Geralt waited, glancing at the troubadour once more before he turned his attention back to the water. He supposed that had been it, a simple acknowledgement. People were often curious, coming to him only to confirm his identity as Jaskier’s witcher. It was a title he’d grown comfortable with more quickly than the White Wolf. It was truer, and he smiled to himself when he thought of such instances in private.
“You’re a right lucky fuck,” Valdo muttered.
Geralt looked up again from the water. He turned to examine Valdo silently, wondering what, exactly, Valdo thought he had going for him to mark him as lucky.
Valdo stared back at him, looking tired and severe. “Maybe I would have had better luck if I didn’t talk so much,” he continued. “If I didn’t sing … ”
“Bards are supposed to sing,” Geralt replied. He now wished Valdo would go back to the upper deck. Nothing aggravated him quite like people who refused to get to the point. He scented an undercurrent of hostility in the air. That, and an abundance of vodka.
Valdo produced a flask from his jerkin and gave it a swig. “Never was trying to be a bard,” he muttered. He took another sip, let it sit, then concealed the flask once more. It occurred to Geralt that the man’s leaning was not entirely owed to false causality.
Geralt knew not what to say. So he simply said, “Hm.” He heard the knuckles crack in Valdo’s tightening fist.
“Melitele’s tits. Years of poetry and songs, and you come along with your … ‘hm,’” Valdo mocked, “and that’s it. Not even a melodic hm. Just … hm.” He raked his fingers through his hair, hissing through his teeth in frustration. He was muttering something under his breath, but it was incoherent, even to a witcher’s ears. When Valdo looked up again, his eyes were red. Neither that, nor the sour note in the air were owed to the alcohol, Geralt surmised.
“He won’t love you,” Valdo said. “He can’t. He doesn’t hold on to things that way. You’re just—” he flapped a hand, searching for the word “—a fascination. You’re something shiny and new. He’ll forget about you the moment he leaves your bed.”
“Who?”
“Who the fuck do you think, witcher. Don’t mock me,” Valdo snapped, voice cracking. If he didn’t look so pathetic, if his words did not carry such weight, Geralt might have chuckled to hear Jaskier’s infamous rival croak unprofessionally. It was not flattering of bards. But there was nothing funny in what he said, nor in how he said it.
“Wait a minute,” Geralt said. He had said less than ten words to the man, none of them mocking in the slightest, and he meant to say as much.
But Valdo held up a hand to silence him. The broken man slipped down to the deck, curling against his knees, head bowed. When he spoke, he mumbled against his knees, fingers tangling in his hair. “I went to Oxenfurt for him. I chased after him for so long, watching him fall in and out of stranger’s beds for less than a wink. But all he wanted me for … he only met me on the stage. Irked if I played below standard, livid if I won. Try what you will, there’s no pleasing Jaskier.”
Geralt thought he understood him then. “Are you jealous?” he asked.
Valdo lifted his head enough to meet his eye. His cheeks were wet, shining in the fading light. “Are you Jaskier’s witcher?”
“Yes,” Geralt replied.
“Then you have your answer.”
Geralt paused a moment. He approached Valdo slowly and lowered himself to his side. They sat together in silence, hidden in the shadow of the bulwark as the sun set behind. Valdo produced the flask again, offering Geralt a sip without a word exchanged. Geralt took the flask.
“Have you kissed him?” Valdo whispered.
“No.”
“Don’t. If he never kisses you, he might not leave.”
Geralt watched as Valdo finished the last of the vodka. “Did you?” he asked.
Valdo stared across the empty deck. “No,” he replied. “But I don’t count. He sings songs about you. I only exist to him three days a year at the bardic competition.”
“He talks about you,” Geralt offered. It was a poor comfort when one knew how Jaskier talked.
Valdo sighed and tucked away the empty flask. He stood on unsteady legs, turning back toward the stairs to the upper deck. “I know. I have a rough idea what sort of man you must think I am from his gossip.”
“I don’t hold with gossip.”
“No,” Valdo chuckled. “Your kind wouldn’t.” It wasn’t an insult, but empathy. There was an understanding between them on that mark. “I wanted to find out for myself what kind of a man you were to entice him so. I hate to think I see it.”
“What do you think you see?”
“A man. One whose best friend’s first wish would be to strike death upon his rival, and knowing him, would allow that rival to approach him without preconceptions. Who would share a flask with a sobbing drunkard and listen earnestly. A good man, in short. So ... hatefully good.”
-
Send me drabble prompts!
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restmyheadatnightcontent · 3 years ago
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hello my dear!! may i ask for 15 for the ways to say i love you?? could be geraskier or anything you want really 💞💞
thank you for the prompt lovely! my other ones have been very fluffly so of course this ended up quite angsty with a hurt bard! i went with geraskefer bc I've missed writing them so hope you enjoy ❤
cw: implied violence, torture and injury
15. Helping them change clothes when they're unable to by themselves.
“Arms up.”
They have gotten quite quick at this. It is certainly helps that they have started using Geralt’s clothes instead, finding that his own were too tight and too impractical whilst he was still healing. At any other time he would be proud of them, for working so well together, but now he is trying too hard to ignore the pain that he knows this small act will bring him.
He is mostly healed now. The bruises have faded to a dull yellow, most of the scars healed, and it is only really his ribs that still plague him.
And his hands.
He tries not to think about his hands too much because if he thinks about them then he starts to think about what happens next and the future and then his mind is filled with thoughts that he cannot bear to think about yet.
He hasn’t seen his lute since. He thinks he saw the case tied to Roach as they road away from the camp, but at that point he was in so much pain it may have well been a hallucination. He hasn’t seen it since, and if it is with them, then Geralt and Yennefer have been hiding it from him.
And honestly he is grateful for it.
He’s not sure he could cope seeing it right now.
Not when there is a chance he may never play it again.
He raises arms as Geralt places the shirt over his head, the small movement nearly stealing all his breath. Geralt runs a comforting hand down his arms, and moves to help him stand up. Yennefer guides his feet so that he stands in the leg holes, and the room swims around him as he stands, Geralts firm hands on his waist the only thing keeping him upright. His vision steadies and she pulls the trousers up. He can see her hands trembling as she ties the laces, and the guilt painted across her face.
“It wasn’t your fault, Yen,” he says quietly, but she just turns away from him, jaw clenched.
It’s not the first time he has said those words, and he knows that Yennefer still does not believe them.
The first time he uttered them was one of their first nights in the cell, when his voice was hoarse from screaming and all she could do was hold him in her arms as she shook, the dimeritium working its way through her, slowly draining her of everything she had.
He has said them almost every day since, and every time she ignores them. Although he has more bruises, he knows she is still suffering too. Perhaps worse, having everything you know taken away from you, and by someone you once called a friend. He doesn’t know much about the workings of chaos, but what from little he does, he understands it is something of a lifeblood to the people who can control it.
Losing it must have been unbearable.
Yes he may never play his lute again, but he would still have his voice. He cannot imagine losing everything, and he doesn’t know Yennefer survived it, and had enough strength to pull him out with her. He is certain he would not have lasted had it not been for her. So although she still blames herself, Jaskier never could, for without her he never would have held on for as long as he did. He would not have seen Geralt, eyes black storming into their cell and sword coated in blood, he would not have seen the relief on the other mans face when he found them still alive.
He knows it wasn’t her fault, and he will just keep telling her until she believes him.
Now, she just sniffs and lifts her hand up to quickly wipe at her eyes, face still turned away.
He reaches out to cup her cheek in his hand, so he can turn her face towards him and wipe away her tears, and only stops when he catches sight of the bandages. He lets his hands fall into his lap with a dull thud, barely registering the pain that follows.
The bandages are thick, and white, and clean but whenever he looks at his hands all he can see his the bloody mess that he knows is underneath, all he can hear is the snap of bone, feel the cold chill of the cell and see the guards grin leering down at him.
He shivers and Geralts hand comes to rest on his shoulder.
“Jaskier,” he hears Yennefer say, voice pained. He tears his eyes away from his hands to see her eyes filled with that too familiar combination of pain, guilt and sympathy.
He clears his throat, and summons a smile onto his face.
“I’m fine,” he says, hating the way his voice trembles. “I’m fine.”
He will be fine.
It will all be fine.
And with Geralt and Yennefer by his side, he can almost believe it.
101 ways to say I love you with actions
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pherryt · 3 years ago
Text
Writing Tag game
tagged by @hopelessly-me
1) How many works do you have on AO3?  282
2) What is your AO3 word total?  2,520,986 
Note, I don’t know if you can see it, or if only I can, but the above two numbers WON’T match what my AO3 page says as these numbers are LESS because I minused all words from works that I was listed as co-creator on when I did art, and I also minused those works and all my art posts from total works written.
3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 
9 or so, depending how you count them: Supernatural, Doctor Who/Torchwood, Star Trek (original, AOS, Next Gen), Old Guard, ElfQuest, Marvel (Power Pack, MCU, Punisher/Daredevil, Venom), Scooby Doo, Witcher, Ranma 1/2
4) What are your top five fics by kudos?
Okay, so I’m VERY interested in the answer to this question because for YEARS the one in the top spot, from 2017, has outperformed EVERYTHING else I’ve written. 
And even when I started writing in other fandoms, Supernatural stayed at the top. 
But look at this list (I put the year published in front of each fic) – This isn’t TRUE anymore. Yes, it’s still in the top spot, but out of HOW MANY FICS, I have a NEW ONE pushing into 2nd place???? MY EYES ARE BOGGLING!!!
2017 - Not What I Signed Up For – Spn, Rated E, 43 k, A/B/O, Destiel , Warnings: Underage - Check the tags and the explanation in the notes
2021 - Overwhelmed – Witcher, Rated G, 10k, Geraskier, Creature!fic
2019 - Warming Up – Marvel, Rated T, 45k, Winterhawk
2018 - Rescue Mission for Two – Spn Fantasy AU, Rated M, 48k, Destiel, Creature!fic
2017 - Sam Finally Gets It – Spn, Rated M, 5k, Destiel, 13.05 CODA
5) Do you respond to comments? Why or why not? 
OF COURSE! They’re so fun! They can be a real boost on a bad day, and I’ve made friends inside the comments! Like the person who tagged me in this!
6) What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending? 
Okay, I don’t really do angsty endings. I LOVE angst, but I want a happy ending. Most of my fics that have angsty endings are either super short CODAs or part of a series that resolve the angst eventually – so I’ll give you these two:
What Time Forgets (MCU/Old Guard crossover Series: 49k, Rated M, Nicky/Joe/Bucky)
Till the End of the Line (MCU Canon AU Series: 86k, Rated E, Steve/Bucky/Clint/Natasha – basically a “What if”)
7) Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you have ever written? 
YES I DO!
Craziest? Probably Colliding Worlds – my Doctor Who/SPN crossover (54k, Rated G, Destiel). I had to make a timeline graph to keep track of which version of the doctor was making an appearance at any point in time. It looks like a spaghetti diagram threw up.
Most AMBITIOUS would be the 4 in one crossover I did: All Mixed Up (Rated G, 30k, Destiel, McKirk, Winterhawk) – Star Trek/SPN/MCU at Hogwarts (with a couple of actual HP characters thrown in)
8) Have you ever received hate on a fic? Nope. Thank god. I’ve had some weird comments, I will admit. But not hate.
9) Do you ever write smut? If so, what kind? I do. Um. Porn with plot, pretty much.
10) Have you ever had a fic stolen? I very much doubt it.
11) Have you ever co-written a fic before? 
Yes, for a challenge. It had 3 authors, counting me, and if the challenge hadn’t been set up the way it had, I’m still not sure we could have pulled it off.
It’s called Groundverse (Rated M, 14k, Destiel) – a Supernatural Endverse Groundhog day type fic told only in letters, notes, and journal entries from 3 main POV’s
12) What’s your all time favorite ship? 
You want me to choose between my faves? What’s WRONG with you!
Ahem. How about a fave for every fandom? And only the ones I’ve written or I’d still be here with some more.
Winterhawk, Destiel, McKirk, Geraskier, Nicky/Joe
13) What was the first fandom you wrote for? 
It’s actually a toss up between 2 stories – because I posted them elsewhere first and so the AO3 dates aren’t necessarily accurate. AND ONE OF THEM IS A CROSSOVER!
Ahem.
Star Trek OS/Star Trek Next Gen/Doctor Who and Ranma 1/2
Take your pick.
14) What’s your favorite fic you’ve written? … again with the unfair questions. Okay, a few of the ones I would have mentioned are already mentioned above. But I still have a hard time picking. So I outsourced. Otherwise we’d be here all day.
@hopelessly-me said: Splintered (MCU, Rated G, implied future Winterhawk/AmeriWinterhawk, 8k)
@li-izumi said: Lammas Night (SPN, Rated E, Destiel, Reverse MCD, Fantasy AU, 51k)
@unforth has more than once said (and I’ve always loved this one): I'm Broken (Supernatural, Destiel, College AU, Rated M, 64k, Warnings: Rape/Non con and Underage. Please Read the explanation and tags. Also, not between our mains)
I’ve also had a lot of love for the Just Right Series , which I’m stilly really proud of writing: (Supernatural AU, Dean/Cas/Benny/Alfie, Rated E, 146k)
I’m Tagging WHOEVER WANTS TO DO THIS! oh, what the heck, anyone already tagged plus @gavilansblog @cinagray @sevdrag  but you don’t have to do it if you don’t want to.
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ao3feed-geralt-jaskier · 4 years ago
Link
by MordorIsCalling
The Shrike and the Lark are a pair of notorious royal birds. The people of Creyden like to say that they are ruled by the Goddess of Death and War and the God of Love and the Arts. The two strange creatures lead their county - towards no future, some claim - in uncertain times. It is an era of the White Wolf's growing list of conquests, after all.
Yet, when the Warlord of the North knocks at their door, Queen Renfri and King Julian are at a certain advantage - they know him.
As in, they know him.
Words: 1697, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English
Fandoms: The Witcher (TV)
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Categories: M/M
Characters: Renfri (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Stregobor (The Witcher), Eskel (The Witcher), Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Original Characters
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Renfri
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alive Renfri (The Witcher), Jaskier | Dandelion and Renfri are Siblings, Inspired by The Accidental Warlord and His Pack Series - inexplicifics, Warlord Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Political Alliances, Past Rape/Non-con, Past Torture, Mildly Dubious Consent, Implied Sexual Content, idiots to lovers, and then back to Idiots, other ships include Geralt/Renfri and Jaskier/Eskel, but Geraskier is endgame, they will get there I promise, but they are stupid, Non-Linear Narrative, Blaviken happened here but things went differently, no beta we are feral like Renfri and Jaskier
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ao3feed-geralt-jaskier · 4 years ago
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by likeasexygoose
Day 3 of my bad things happen bingo!
Today’s prompt: hidden scar
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While bathing in a stream, Geralt discovers something about his companion. Just how dark could Jaskier’s past really be?
Words: 988, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English
Series: Part 3 of likeasexygoose’s Bad Things Happen Bingo
Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski, The Witcher (TV)
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Categories: M/M, Other
Characters: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion's Father, Jaskier | Dandelion's Mother
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion
Additional Tags: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Has Feelings, Jaskier | Dandelion Has a Past, Scars, Protective Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, implied future geraskier, Illegitimacy, jaskiers parents suck, in a big way, like more than any parents have sucked before, Wiedźmin | The Witcher-Typical Bathing, Bad Things Happen Bingo, Geralt likes the bard
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