#penguin!jaskier

[my-jokes-are-my-armour]

Answering the question about what would be his witcher medallion

I think I read too many Bear!Jaskier from @spielzeugkaiser . So that gives me ideas 😅

Bonus: Penguin!Jaskier the best ☺️

[spielzeugkaiser]

Oh my god look it me- I wish I had a little bard that would sing for me, I could use a necromancer that would cure me 😭😭 Thank you AHhHhHhh!! 💖😭💖😭💖😭💖

@spielzeugkaiser He's trying his best to help...

[shy-urban-hobbit]

For day 3 of Whumptober - journal.

(CW canon character death).

Lambert placed the empty box on the bed as he took in the room he hadn't entered in over a year. It used to be their room, but after Aiden....he just hadn't been able to stand sleeping alone in there and had enlisted his brothers help in moving his stuff into the guest room, requesting that they leave anything of Aiden's exactly where it was. This time though, he'd kept his plans for the day to himself and purposely silenced his phone as an extra precaution. One or more of his family would only insist on coming over, or drop by on some flimsy pretence (last time it has been Jaskier asking to borrow a cook book when everyone knew the man could burn water) and whilst it was something he usually loved them for, this was something he needed to do alone.

The sweater hanging off the back of the chair was just as soft as he remembered, although he couldn't decide whether he was relieved or sad that it's owners scent had long faded. The shirts in the wardrobe were still hanging in the very specific order that made no sense to Lambert but Aiden insisted on, as were the t-shirts and trousers. He should probably donate these to somebody at some points but right now it was a small victory getting them packed away in a box to be stored away. Baby steps, that's what the grief counselor had said.

Aiden's bedside table was next. An amalgamation of organised clutter. The second hand paperback he'd been reading, alongside his reading glasses. A strip of the painkillers for the frequent headaches he suffered from (ironically, usually caused by trying to read without his glasses. Something Lambert would tease him about endlessly). The wallet one of the siblings Aiden had still been in touch with had gifted him one Christmas, alongside a bunch of expired bank cards, store cards and receipts that he put to one side to go in the trash.

A familiar book bound in blue leather tucked to the back of the drawer caught his attention. Not a day had gone by where he hadn't seen Aiden scribbling in that. He'd never been precious about keeping it hidden, telling Lambert he was free to look although most of it was probably just lists and doodles. Half joking that if he had any earth shattering secrets, he wouldn't be writing them down considering that one of the first things that got drilled into him when he got involved with Dyn Marv as an angry, confused pre teen was "'Never write anything down that could be used as evidence". Lambert had never taken him up on it before, out of respect for Aiden's privacy even though he'd said it was fine. Now though...who knows? Maybe there was something in here that could provide answers to questions he wasn't even sure why he was still asking.

He flicked it open at a random page. Aiden's hand writing stated back at him in a sparkly green pen. The list made absolutely no sense without any context, a list of foods all beginning with the letter C. The following pages were much the same until he came across a note written in what appeared to be Sharpie of a time and place Lambert knew very well. The time and place of their first official date. Lambert flicked further, Aiden's random notes to himself becoming more frequently interspersed with actual entries. A couple of paragraphs of Aiden gushing like a lovesick teen the morning after he'd first spent the night, even though they'd done nothing more than sleep. A drawing of a coffee cup accompanied only by the words "He remembers my order!!!". An entire page devoted to how nervous Aiden was about meeting Lambert's family. Anecdotes were now accompanied by matching doodles. A roughly drawn penguin alongside a story about a zoo trip that has Lambert smiling at the memory. A sudden return to less frequent entries, back to the original lists and the writing borderline sloppy, reminding Lambert of a period he'd rather forget. The fight and consequent break up that had followed. The tentative influx of entries hinting at when they'd decided to give it another go. Pages full of furniture lists and budgets from when they'd decided to move in together. A childishly drawn sun from when Ciri had gotten hold of it that one time. Instead of getting mad, Aiden had laughed and asked her to sign it, hence the big "C" in crayon in one corner ("A Ciri original. Could be worth a bit someday.").

Lambert felt tears gathering in his eyes. For all Aiden's talk of leaving no evidence, what was this if not evidence of how happy he'd been with Lambert, of their lives together, the life they'd hoped to build written down plain as day?

"Lambert?" Eskel called out as he opened the door to Lambert's house using his spare key, Geralt following close behind flicking on the lights as he headed to the kitchen.

"Lambert, you in?" The larger of the two called out as he made his way upstairs, "Nobody's heard from you all day, we were getting worried. Geralt bought food if you're hungry!"

It was then he noticed the door to Lambert's old bedroom was slightly ajar, "Lambert?" He called softly, slowly swinging the door fully open and flicking the bedside lamp on.

His little brother was sat on the floor by what was once Aiden's side of the bed, tears falling freely as he quietly cried, an open book on the floor in front of him.

"Oh, Lam." Eskel cooed, dropping to his knees and gently pulling him into a hug. A hug which turned even tighter when he caught the words written on the page in Aiden's writing. Something about how he'd accidentally found the ring a week ago and couldn't wait for Lambert to pluck up enough courage to ask.

[sparkliest-bard-bracket]

A Sparkly, Bardly, ✨Round 2✨

Greetings, everybody, and welcome to Round 2!! Above is the bracket for this round, consisting of 32 polls!!

I will post 8 polls every other day (hopefully spaced out hourly but we'll see), starting Saturday, July 1st!

Feel free to submit pictures and propaganda for your bards (see this post for more info)! The more, the merrier!

[Full bracket with fandom names under the cut]

1 - David Bowie (Real Life) vs Thom Merrilin (Wheel of Time) 2 - Daeron (The Silmarillion) vs Finrod (The Silmarillion) 3 - Apollo (Greek Mythology) vs Chong (Avatar: The Last Airbender) 4 - Edgin Darvis (Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves) vs Dimentio (Super Paper Mario) 5 - Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem (The Muppets) vs Starling Birdsong (Realm of the Elderlings) 6 - “Weird Al” Yankovic (Real Life) vs Carrie Wilson (Julie and the Phantoms) 7 - Kvothe (The Kingkiller Chronicle) vs Raz'ul, Son of Daz'ul (BomBARDed) 8 - Binary Bard (Poptropica) vs Fflewddur Fflam (The Chronicles of Prydain)

9 - Kyoami/The Fool (Ran/King Lear) vs Hannah Montana (Hannah Montana) 10 - Leliana (Dragon Age) vs Sprig Plantar (Amphibia) 11 - Neil Banging Out the Tunes (Tumblr) vs Thistle/Sissel (Dungeon Meshi) 12 - Loquatius Seelie (Critical Role) vs Oli/TheOrionSound (Empires SMP) 13 - Megamind (Megamind) vs Mettaton (Undertale) 14 - William Shakespeare (Real Life) vs Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Classicaloid) 15 - Marceline the Vampire Queen (Adventure Time) vs Gerard Way (Real Life) 16 - Snufkin (Moomin) vs Rick Astley (Real Life)

17 - Alan-a-Dale (Robin Hood) vs Lúthien Tinúviel (The Silmarillion) 18 - Remus Sanders (Sanders Sides) vs Kass (Legend of Zelda/Breath of the Wild) 19 - Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies) vs Miss Piggy (The Muppets) 20 - Dob the Half-Orc Bard (Oxventure) vs Kaylie Shorthalt (Critical Role) 21 - Gabrielle the Battling Bard (Xena: The Warrior Princess) vs Tsukasa Tenma (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage!) 22 - Tom Bombadil (The Lord of the Rings) vs Steve McKenzie/Jester (Galavant) 23 - Jaskier/Dandelion (The Witcher) vs Rocky (Lackadaisy) 24 - Neil Cicierega/Lemon Demon (Real Life) vs Kermit the Bard (Tales of Tinkerdee)

25 - Sir Robin's Minstrels (Monty Python and the Holy Grail) vs Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming) 26 - Puss in Boots (Shrek) vs Freddie Mercury (Real Life) 27 - The Amazing Devil (Real Life) vs Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney) 28 - Ron Stampler (Dungeons & Daddies) vs Jack Black (Real Life) 29 - Scanlan Shorthalt (Critical Role) vs Hap Gladheart (Realm of the Elderlings) 30 - Maglor (The Silmarillion) vs DJ Cadence (Club Penguin) 31 - Yara of Nowhere, the Wandering Bard (A Practical Guide to Evil) vs Dorian Storm (Critical Role) 32 - Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan (Tales of Arcadia: Wizards) vs Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit)

[writingmysanity]

Oh please tell me about the Eskel and Haldir fics!! 8k!! I can’t imagine writing so much 😭 that’s awesome!

When we were gods

This one is the story of eskel x kit! Starting somewhat at the beginning, right behind my two piece jaskier fic "take me to church"

So it'll explore how they met (again), all of their trials, and tribulations, their time on the path and how they fall in love!

I have a teaser part if anyone is interested. Though I am not ready to start posting the actual story. It's a very very in depth piece I'm pouring a lot into.

Any specific questions I'd love to answer though!

Whispers of stars

This story has several names at the moment, this is just the one I've used on tumblr since you asked and I didn't wanna be like uhhhhh *breaks out wheel with options and spins dramatically* (okay I kinda did)

Others being "the way the stars whisper" "written in the stars" and "the stories stars can tell"

For background information, as I've learned many people didn't know, elves (like penguins and many other birds!) Essentially mate for life. They have one love, and if that love passes for any reason- they do not remarry. They also don't sleep around (according to Tolkien since I know this is common in fics and no hate! I am just going by what he says specifically because I WANT TO) because for elves sex = marriage. And they marry for both life AND death.

I believe this story is going to be 100% OC, as i haven't even decided if I'll be sharing it online online, as of yet. I have let others read it. The only one who has completely caught up to where I am currently at is @thehistoriangirl 😂💜 she's waiting (im)patiently for me to continue.

This is the story of Haldir and his love, where she is taken from him (kidnapped) and how she gets brought back after she's found, how they heal together, and conquer all adversity together. He does go to Helms Deep, but he doesn't die, ans comes home and they deal with the fall out of everything else coming about.

That is as vague as I can make it (not because I want to) as to not lose completely everything in my explanations. So if you'd like to know more, or anything specific I would be more than happy to share!

As a writer, I can speak for many of us here, we LOVE talking about our pieces simply because we have so much that goes into it. Lore that doesn't make it into the final product but gives explanation. Pieces we had to cut due to fluidity. Alternative routes not taken, and why!

We love our characters and we want you to love them, too. We just don't get the same sort of audience wanting to see bit and pieces of our WIPs as artists do (mainly because they're not quite as interesting as artists WIPs as it's hard to get a full picture from a few sentences)

I am really so very excited about your interest 💜 please, I love interaction with you guys! If you ever have any questions about any pieces I'm working on, I'd gladly make a whole list of every piece I have for you to ask questions about

[harplings-nest]

Bear with me

If Jaskier is penguin clan and he waddles across the continent

Do you think he goes up tothe lemonade stand and asks

Do you have any Ger-apes?

What animal would symbolise your clan?

[tampire]

Two Goths need their Disaster Bis

[bat-nation]

Hello there. That's our list of ships and fandoms (roles on discord) for anyone interested in joining

[curls-cat]

14+45+jaskier/any mayhaps??

14: overgrown; 45: svelte (i know this means like. sleek and poised when it comes to people but all I can think about is penguins)

Grey I’m sorry T-T this got WAY out of hand (also I’m terrible at time management)

Also on AO3!

~~

Geralt should be dead. This is his first thought when he wakes up. He should be dead, and he is not. He was fighting a pack of sirens. He remembers that. One of them got in a good hit. He went under the water. He doesn’t remember coming back up.

He’s on land; inside, somewhere. Not a particularly nice somewhere, but not the worst place he’s ever woken up. There are four walls, and though he’s on a dirty floor, there’s a solid roof overhead. He can hear rain pounding on it. It’s dark, gloomy enough that the room might not have windows.

Well, he’s not going to figure out where he is by standing here. With a groan, Geralt pushes himself up. His chest hurts. Everything hurts, really, but the pain in his lungs is overwhelming. By the time he’s pushed himself to sitting, he’s coughing, deep racking painful coughs.

“Oh, don’t— you were supposed to stay asleep ‘til I got back! Drowning’s bad for you, you know.”

Geralt turns to look at the man who entered the room while he was coughing his lungs inside out. He’s tall, with brown hair and blue eyes. He’s also very well-built, which Geralt can tell because he’s wearing nothing but a fur cloak, open at the front.

No, not a cloak. A skin. A sealskin.

Geralt’s survival suddenly makes a lot more sense.

“You’re a selkie,” he croaks.

The selkie walks over to Geralt and crouches on the floor next to him. He pulls, from underneath his cloak, a very wet bag— Geralt’s bag.

“And you’re a witcher,” he says. “Thank you for dealing with those sirens. They’ve been making life unbearable around here.”

“Part of the job,” Geralt says.

The selkie hands Geralt his pack with an eye roll. “Well, as I haven’t got any of that human money, you’ll have to take my thanks. As well as your things back. I haven’t got all of them yet,” this part he adds in a hurry as Geralt fumbles the bag open, looking for a bottle of Swallow. “But I thought you’d be waking up around now, so I wanted to ask what was the most important.”

Geralt takes a mental inventory. His potions, yes. And he’s wearing his armor. Roach is on shore with most of his clothes. “My swords,” he says.

“Both of them?” the siren wrinkles his nose.

Geralt starts to shrug, but it hurts. “One for humans,” he says. “One for monsters.”

The siren backs up the tiniest bit, but turns a very big grin on Geralt as he says, “I’m going to assume that selkies don’t count as monsters, of course, since I did just save your life and all.”

“No contract out on you,” Geralt answers. “Don’t try to kill me and I won’t try to kill you.”

“Sounds fair,” the selkie says. He pats Geralt on the shoulder. “I’ll go get your swords. Do you need— anything else?”

Geralt can’t ask this man to grab him a siren head as a trophy. He shakes his head.

The selkie goes back into the storm, leaving Geralt alone in an empty room.

*

When the selkie comes back, Geralt is better enough that he’s standing, walking around the room. It does have windows, it seems. They’re just covered in bracken. Live vines, tight over all the ways to see outside, so thick that no rain can get in. So dark in the storm that they nearly blend in with the rough wood of the walls.

The building appears to be a single room. It has a fireplace on one wall, unlit. Next to it there’s a pile of cookware and… musical instruments? Yes, there’s a lute in there. There’s no furniture.

“You’re supposed to be resting,” the selkie says when he enters the room. “You drowned, you know.”

“Didn’t take,” Geralt says. He doesn’t shrug, because shrugging still hurts. Swallow didn’t do as much good as he thought it would, which means he came very close to dying.

The selkie leans Geralt’s swords up against the wall and shuts the door behind him. The noise of the storm grows a little more muffled. “Are all witchers like you?” the selkie asks.

“Like me how?” Geralt asks.

“Oh, the fire’s gone out!” the selkie says instead of answering. He bustles over to it, dropping his sealskin on the way and revealing an ass that Geralt doesn’t stare at, through great force of will. He struggles with the fire for a few moments, cursing at it. 

Geralt creaks his way gingerly over to join the selkie at the fireplace and casts igni, putting a little more effort into it than usual to compensate for the rain dripping down the chimney.

“Oh, that’s clever,” the selkie says, turning a bright grin on Geralt. Geralt focuses on the grin, not the expanse of naked skin below it. “Is that a human thing, or a witcher thing? Can I learn to do it?”

“Witcher,” Geralt says. “You’ll have to stick to flint.”

The selkie makes a face. He grabs his discarded sealskin and spreads it out in front of himself, like a hearthrug. Geralt watches the sealskin so he has something other than human skin to look at.

The selkie sees him looking, and crooks a half smile. “I know it’s my skin and all, and I should take better care of it, but it’s so uncomfortable to put on while it’s still wet.”

That wasn’t what Geralt was wondering about. “Do you not have clothes?” he asks instead. “Human clothes?”

The selkie looks, suddenly, mournful. “No way to get ‘em out here without ruining them. I bought a suit on the mainland a year or two ago, beautiful, shiny, all bright colors and little triangles. The man said it was silk. But when I got it back out here it was all stained.”

What a selkie needs with a silk suit, or where he got the money for it, wandering around in nothing but a fur coat, Geralt doesn’t know. He also doesn’t ask. Instead he says, “Humans consider it impolite to go around naked.”

The selkie’s eyes go wide. “Is that why you’re still wearing your wet things? Am I being rude? Sorry! I’ll find something. Do we both need clothes? How many? Where do we have to wear them?” He keeps chattering as he heads over to the collection of instruments and cooking supplies, all questions with no time for Geralt to answer them in between. He returns, still talking, a few minutes later, bearing a blanket and a very waterstained satin suit. “Do you want the suit or the blanket?” he asks.

Geralt eyes the selkie as carefully as he can without making it weird. The man isn’t waifish by any means, but he doesn’t look like he’s as muscular as Geralt. “Blanket,” he says.

A few minutes later, Geralt is closer to dry than he’s been since before he took the damn siren contract, wrapped in a bedraggled but warm knit blanket. The selkie, wearing a wrinkled and stained suit that smells strongly of mildew, is spreading Geralt’s armor out next to his sealskin. The colors, even browned with seawater and salt, look nice against his dark hair.

“What’s your name?” the selkie asks with a tone of sudden realization. “I was all caught up in the saving you and all, I forgot. Sorry. I’m not used to people. My name is Jaskier.”

“Geralt,” Geralt offers. Then, “A selkie named after a flower?”

“My mother was fond of the mainland,” Jaskier says with a small smile.

Was, Geralt notices. Selkies aren’t usually solitary. Jaskier doesn’t appear to have a colony of any kind, seems to be alone in his one-room house. Said he wasn’t used to people. And people could mean humans, but it could also mean…

Geralt doesn’t ask.

“Food!” the selkie says after a moment. He doesn’t appear to be fond of silences. “I should feed you! I hope you like fish,” he adds, standing. “It’s all I’ve got. Unless— do humans eat seaweed? Do witchers eat seaweed? Do witchers eat what humans eat?” He’s heading for the door again, still chattering. “I know witchers aren’t quite humans, but I’ve never met one before. And I’m not quite human either, and I thought bread was excellent. Ooh, and wine. I wish I had wine. You can’t carry glass in your teeth, though. Or at least I can’t. Not while I’m swimming. I should really get one of those bags like you have. But leather doesn’t usually like seawater that much, and after the suit—” his voice grows muffled through the wall, as he rummages outside— “I don’t like to risk cloth, either.” He returns with a string of fish, messily but thoroughly gutted and hung on a ragged piece of twine. He hangs them over the fire.

“Canvas should hold up,” Geralt offers.

“Canvas?”

“What the sailors make their sails out of.”

“Oh!” The selkie beams at him again. Geralt notices for the first time that his teeth are too sharp. It doesn’t make the smile any less bright. “I should’ve thought of that. I try to avoid the sailors, though. There’s too many stories of selkies who get too close to a fisherman and never come home.”

Geralt’s heard those stories. Mournful, trapped wives, their skins hidden away. The kind of love that belongs to possessions, not people. Children whose mothers disappear one day with no explanation, leaving them with no way of understanding the longing for the sea in their own chests.

“Maybe the next time there’s a shipwreck,” Jaskier says thoughtfully. “I try to save the people, most of the time, but I can salvage some other things.” He wrinkles his nose. “No idea how to turn it into a bag, though. My father could sew, but he—” Jaskier pauses. “Well. I never got the chance to learn.”

Geralt, again, doesn’t ask.

“Must thank you again for killing the sirens,” Jaskier adds, almost like an afterthought, and Geralt doesn’t need to ask what happened to Jaskier’s colony after all, because he can put two and two together.

“How long have you been alone here?” he asks instead. It seems a little safer.

Jaskier counts on his fingers. He runs out of fingers and adds a few toes. “At least twelve winters,” he says.

He can’t be that old. Geralt’s not particularly adept at judging the age of selkies, but he looks like a human man of about eighteen. He would’ve been, what? Six? Eight at the absolute oldest. Geralt was about that age when he was left at Kaer Morhen.

Something like empathy must show on Geralt’s face, because Jaskier turns back to the fish as he says, “It’s not that bad. I go to the mainland fairly often. They give me funny looks, but I’m not the only fisherman who’s chosen an island instead of a town. Not even the only one to run around in a heavy fur cloak and no shoes.” He pauses, and apparently decides the fish are done, because he tosses one back and forth between his hands to give to Geralt. “Nobody like me, though,” he says, with a small, sad smile. “I’ve checked.”

Geralt knows something of what it’s like to be a dying breed. He doesn’t, though, know how to offer comfort, so he just eats his fish. Selkies aren’t mutants. They deserve to exist. To thrive.

*

The storm doesn’t let up. Part of Geralt is telling him to leave anyway, insistent that to stay here warm and comfortable is just going to make leaving in the end harder. He overrides it with the knowledge that he’s not fully healed yet, and the storm is still raging. He can ride out the storm here. Smarter than going back out to get drowned again.

Jaskier, eventually, pulls an instrument out of the pile and begins plucking at it. It’s a lute, Geralt knows that much. How it survived getting to Jaskier’s island, Geralt doesn’t know. It’s a beautiful thing, with gold inlays across the face. Geralt’s medallion, the only thing he’s still wearing, tingles on his chest.

“Can I see that?” he asks.

Jaskier hands it over with a bright smile. “Do you play?” he asks. “I love music, but nobody’s ever— I never got the change to learn. I’m trying to figure out how to tune it.”

“I don’t,” Geralt says absently, looking at the instrument. “Where did you get this?”

“It washed ashore,” Jaskier says. “I didn’t see the wreck it came from; I was sick. Did you know that if you let fish sit in the summer, it rots?”

“This is elf-made,” Geralt says. “Enchanted.”

Jaskier grins. “That explains why it survived when everything else didn’t.” He takes the lute back, caresses it. “My darling girl,” he says. He starts to play again, a nothing sort of plucking as he tweaks at the pins.

“Half a turn tighter,” Geralt offers.

Jaskier obliges, and plucks the string again. It’s in tune now. The selkie gives a delighted gasp. “Can you help me with the others?” he begs.

It’s not as if Geralt has anything better to do.

They spend the evening that way, Geralt helping Jaskier tune the lute and then, under duress, humming a song for Jaskier to try to recreate on the lute. It’s pleasant, actually. Geralt’s more content than he’s been in a long time.

*

The storm lets up three days later, by which point all of Geralt’s things have dried, he’s healed, and if he never eats salmon again it’ll be too fucking soon.

Jaskier offers to lead him to the mainland. Geralt tries to dissuade him, but he’s a persistent bastard, and Geralt’s grown fond enough of him over the past few days that he doesn’t argue too hard. Jaskier’s right, after all. It’s a long swim, and he doesn’t know where he’s going.

Watching Jaskier slip into his seal form is fascinating. He stands at the edge of the water, wearing it like a cloak, and then he pulls it up over his head and it’s like it melts onto him, drawing in on his arms and legs, dragging Jaskier down until he rests on the shore, fully seal except for his eyes, which are a little too human.

He barks, and then he’s in the water. He splashes a little, waiting for Geralt, who makes his way in after him, much more slowly.

It’s a long, miserable swim. His armor is waterlogged, he’s not quite as healed as he thought, and swords are fucking heavy to swim with. If Jaskier weren’t with him, guiding him on, stopping sometimes and providing something for Geralt to rest against and breathe, Geralt probably wouldn’t make it, even on a sunny day with no strong currents.

But make it they do, near sundown. Watching Jaskier return to his human form is as fascinating as the other direction, and beautiful, in a way.

“Well,” Geralt says. He shifts back and forth. How do you say goodbye in a situation like this? There’s no ‘see you around.’ Geralt probably won’t be back here, ever.

“I suppose this is it, then,” Jaskier says, casting a look back at the beach. “I know— I know you’re busy, but do you suppose…” He stops.

Geralt squints at him. He’s gotten the idea that Jaskier isn’t just lonely, over the past few days. Jaskier wants to understand humanity. Is curious about the world.

Geralt is going to regret this. A huge part of him is explaining, in great detail, all the reasons this is a terrible idea. Still, his mouth opens and he says, “Do you want to travel with me for a little while?”

*

Jaskier has a million questions about mainland life. Geralt should’ve expected this, but it’s still exhausting. He answers them anyway, the ones he knows the answers to. ‘What’s butter? Why do humans drink cow’s milk when they make their own milk? Really? But that seems like plenty of time! Jaskier’s younger sister only breastfed for three weeks before his mother dried up. What’s so strange about drinking another human’s milk? It seems less odd than drinking another animal’s milk altogether.’ And so on and so forth, endless curiosity for the way humans do things.

Geralt keeps expecting him to leave, once he’s gotten enough of his questions answered. Jaskier makes friends easily. People seem, strangely enough, enamored of him, slightly off as his behavior might be. It’s because he’s so sincere in all of it. And because he falls truly and genuinely in love with everyone. Geralt has had to defend him, more than once, from an angry spouse.

“Have you considered,” he asks once, dragging Jaskier away from an angry blacksmith, “asking if they’re in a relationship before you kiss them?”

“She kissed me!” Jaskier defends himself. “I don’t know why everyone gets mad at me when their partners are the ones who’re breaking faith!” He crosses his arms over his chest, giving up completely on stumbling along with Geralt and letting himself be dragged. “I don’t see why everyone cares so much, anyway. It’s not as if my loving them has any bearing on how much they can love someone else.”

How can Geralt explain this? The easiest way, the one Jaskier would understand, is possession. You take the selkie’s coat and bind them to you (Jaskier’s coat sits bundled in Roach’s saddlebags, but Geralt isn’t hiding it. He just got tired of picking it up when Jaskier left it somewhere dangerous). You promise your troth to someone and if they kiss someone else, that person’s stealing your things.

But that’s not what it is, not entirely. And Jaskier is so in love with humanity, even still, even after all the horrible things he’s seen in their time together, that Geralt can’t try to convince him lovers are another kind of ugliness.

“It’s about promises,” Geralt says instead. “If they promised themselves to someone else, being with you is breaking that promise.”

“Oh,” Jaskier says. He starts walking again, and Geralt lets go of his doublet. They’re far enough from the blacksmith that it should be safe. “Am I breaking my promise to you, then?”

“What?” Geralt asks, startled.

“I said I’d come with you,” Jaskier says. “Is kissing other people breaking that promise?”

There are several parts of this that Geralt could respond to. He’s not sure which one comes first. “You’re fine,” is what he says instead, and lets that be the end of it.

*

Jaskier isn’t content to let the conversation end there, though. All his questions over the next few days become about promises, about breaking faith. About relationships.

“Does it upset you that I kiss people?” he asks, one day.

“Only when they have angry spouses,” Geralt says.

Another day: “Why do humans promise themselves to only one person?”

Geralt has no good answer to this. “They like stability,” he offers. “Knowing they can depend on someone.”

Later: “What do they promise? Because I promised myself to you, but we don’t kiss at all, and I’m rather starting to think maybe there are different sorts of promises.”

“I don’t own you, Jaskier,” Geralt says tiredly.

“Not what I asked,” Jaskier says. He’s strumming the impossible elven lute, the one that should’ve been destroyed by the sea. He’s getting much better at playing it, purely from watching other people. He’d make a good bard, in another life.

“They promise to be partners,” Geralt says. “To protect each other, and to stay with each other, and to help each other with everything. To love one another.”

“So like what I promised you, then,” Jaskier says. This seems to satisfy him, and he plays with the lute more. Then, far enough later that Geralt had gotten comfortable in thinking that the conversation was over, “Why don’t we kiss, then?”

Geralt, who had been taking a sip from his waterskin, chokes.

Jaskier reaches up to where Geralt sits on Roach and pats him absently on the back as he continues, “Is it because I kiss other people? I can stop, if you want.”

“I— you don’t have to kiss me, Jaskier.”

Jaskier stops, squints at Geralt. “Do you not want to kiss me? Are you not attracted to men? I’ve noticed a lot of humans seem to have a preference.”

“That’s not it,” Geralt says.

“Why don’t we kiss, then?” Jaskier asks again.

“You don’t owe me that,” Geralt says. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“I know I don’t owe you anything,” Jaskier says, and he sounds annoyed, now. “But you said it was about partnership.”

“We’re not married, Jaskier.”

“I don’t know what that means!” Jaskier throws his hands up in the air. “I’ve been trying so hard to understand it, and I know you’re trying, but it doesn’t make any sense. You said people don’t like it when the person they’re promised to kisses someone else. But you don’t mind when I kiss someone else. You said people who are promised to each other are partners and love each other and take care of each other, and we do all that! But you said they kiss each other, too, and have sex, and we certainly don’t do that!”

Geralt is going to die. “It’s different!”

“How?”

“You’re not in love with me.”

“Says who?”

“Jaskier.”

Jaskier grabs Geralt’s wrist and tugs at it until Geralt makes eye contact with him. “Geralt. Who told you I’m not in love with you?”

“Nobody!”

“Then how do you know?”

“I know.”

Jaskier tugs harder. He’s nearly unseating Geralt from Roach. “How?”

“I’m the first person you really talked to in over a decade!”

“So what?” Jaskier demands, baring those too-sharp teeth. “I can’t know how I feel? I’m the poor orphaned selkie who doesn’t know enough to tell whether he’s friends with someone or more than that?” He scoffs, and lets go of Geralt’s wrist. “I’m not a child. And I’m not stupid.”

Roach decides to start walking forward again. Geralt lets her. Jaskier follows along, but he’s not speaking or playing the lute. Geralt normally appreciates the silence when he can have it, but not now. Not when Jaskier’s furious with him.

“I don’t think you’re stupid,” he says at last.

Jaskier scoffs again.

“You fall in love with everyone,” Geralt tries.

“Including you!” Jaskier points out. It’s the angriest love confession Geralt’s ever heard.

“That’s not—” Geralt cuts himself off. “You’re not really in love with me.”

“You wouldn’t know, because you’ve never asked!”

Geralt doesn’t answer this one. Jaskier chucks a rock at him. It bounces off his armor.

It is a long, uncomfortable day.

*

“Why don’t you want me to be in love with you?” Jaskier asks this once it’s fallen dark. He’s under his sealskin, for once all the way across camp from Geralt, away from the fire. He hasn’t spoken in hours, and Geralt’s miserable.

Geralt doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to have this conversation.

“Is it because you think you don’t deserve it?” Jaskier continues. “I know you think a lot of terrible things about yourself. None of them are true. Well, except that you’re an ass. You are that, and I’m furious with you. But the rest of it is lies.”

“You’ll fall in love with someone else,” Geralt says. “Someone better.”

“Sure,” Jaskier says, easy as ever. “But it won’t make me stop loving you.”

“You should fall in love with someone else,” Geralt tries again.

“I have. I always left with you, in the end.”

“Jaskier…” Geralt pinches the bridge of his nose. His head hurts.

“I gave you my coat, Geralt,” Jaskier says. “I gave it to you over and over, and you kept giving it back. Who else would do that? Who else could I trust with it? To keep it safe, and give it back when I need it?”

“There’ll be someone,” Geralt says, because there will. Someone who will see Jaskier for all he is and be able to appreciate it properly, give him all he needs. A house and a family and a place to come home to after he’s done adventuring. Someone who will not drag him inland, far from the sea.

Jaskier laughs. There’s no humor in it. “Half the women in my colony disappeared before the sirens showed up,” he says. “Some of the men, too. Not all at once. They fell in love with fishermen, and they gave up their coats, believing the one they loved would give it back, if they asked. Wanting to be what was asked of them, believing nobody could be cruel enough to keep them from ever coming home again. None of them ever returned. I wanted you to keep my coat so badly, Geralt. Wanted to be tied to you. Why won’t you tie me to you?”

“I don’t want the kind of love that needs to be trapped,” Geralt says.

“And I’m not trapped,” Jaskier says. He’s rolled over across camp, and the firelight is dancing in his eyes. “You let me go, and take me back. Please let me stay, too.”

Geralt can’t give him an answer.

*

Jaskier stops sleeping with other people. Every time he starts to flirt with someone, he stops partway through, glares pointedly at Geralt, and moves away from the person. He composes his first original song, and it’s maddeningly catchy. He plays it, over and over again, until Geralt wants to rip the lute out of his hands and smash it.

He keeps leaving his coat in Geralt’s saddlebags.

Geralt tries to get him to stop. Gets him his own pack. Jaskier fills the pack with brightly colored, expensive clothes, and books of sheet music. Geralt puts the coat in the pack. Jaskier, sometime when Geralt isn’t paying attention, puts it back in the saddlebags.

It would be easier if Jaskier weren’t so loveable. If Geralt didn’t want to let himself have this so much. But Jaskier deserves better, and Geralt is a patient man.

He hadn’t thought Jaskier was patient, the way he jumps on every new experience, with his exuberance. Geralt had forgotten that he spent over a decade alone on an island, teaching himself to survive.

When Geralt gives in, it’s not a big moment. Not a shouting match. They’ve been tensely not-arguing for nearly a month now, and it almost feels normal again, except for the weight of knowing what Jaskier wants tugging constantly at Geralt.

Tonight, Jaskier is playing that stupid fishmonger song again, but not singing. Just strumming away while he talks to Roach, and it hits Geralt that he’d do anything to make Jaskier happy. He’d walk the path for another hundred years, just so Jaskier could see everything he wants to about the world. He’d pick up Jaskier’s dropped coat a thousand times to keep it safe. He’d answer every question.

“Fine,” he says. “Fine.”

“Hm?” Jaskier says, not looking up. “What’s the big mean man want now, Roach my girl? Tired of the song, you think?”

“Jaskier,” Geralt says. “I’m saying yes.”

Jaskier turns, looks at Geralt. There’s something like hope in his eyes. “Yes?” he repeats.

“Yes,” Geralt says, and this conversation is getting nowhere, so he joins Jaskier in front of Roach, reaches into the saddle bag and pulls out Jaskier’s coat. “Yes, I’ll keep you.”

Jaskier stares.

Geralt shuffles his feet. This was supposed to be a declaration, but Jaskier isn’t— he doesn’t know where to go from here. “If you still want me,” he adds.

And then Jaskier’s arms are around him, and there’s a warm mouth pressed against his. “If I still—” Jaskier cuts himself off, nips Geralt’s lip with his too-sharp teeth. “Of course I fucking want you, you bastard.”

Geralt lets himself kiss back.

[kittynannygaming]

🐭 This is very mice! 🐭

🐧 Penguin School 🐧

- Dark and White plumage for camouflage (Jaskier can blend in very well in his environment)

- Large penguins live in colder areas and small penguins in temperate or tropical climate (Jaskier isn’t bothered by the cold)

- Adult male penguins are called cocks (and the boys giggle a lot about the adult male witchers nickname), adult female are hens (and no one make fun of it because they’re scary), a group of penguins on land is a waddle (according to some, they strut more than they waddle) a group of penguins in water is a raft (and they love confusing people thinking they’re talking about a boat like it was a person)

- Clumsy on land but amazing in the water (Jaskier can and will trip on thin air but once in the water he’s like a dolphin, grace and speed, he can also go tobogganing if the slope steepness is good and he doesn’t want to bother walking)

- They have an average hearing for birds, meaning used mostly to locate “family” in a crowd (Jaskier will always hear Geralt in a crowd if he can’t locate him by sight)

- Their eyes are adapted for underwater vision (when Geralt finds it, he’s fascinated)

- Penguins insulating feathers keep them warm in the water (Penguins Witchers skin look normal in people or witchers’ eyes but it is very intricate)

- Penguins get a good layer of fat (Jaskier has a soft tummy)

- Penguins spent half their life on land and half their life in water (Why do you think he asked you to go with him to the coast, Geralt?)

Witcher Story Prompt

We all know of Witcher Jaskier stories but I think people should have more fun with the idea of other Witcher schools.

Like instead of Jaskier being turned into a wolf Witcher or viper Witcher, I think we should go wild.

Like school of the mouse, parrot or the penguin.

Of course you may be going what would the reason these schools would exist (other than it would be fun to read), well:

Mice:

* good hearing,

* good at climbing

* good agility

* can fall down a height of 12 feet without injuring themselves.

* can communicate to each other with ultrasonic sounds

* Also the grasshopper mouse is immune to scorpion venom.

And for specific Jaskier things mice are:

* very talkative,

* are know to sing to win over mates

* a group of mice are know as a mischief.

This is an example but what I am saying is all animals have cool things about them that could be adapted.

Anyway hope this inspires some new stories.

Thanks for all your hard work Fanfic writers!!

[riddlers-roulette]

So Ed’s Penguin Act in the Narrows and Jaskier’s Burn Butcher Burn give me the same vibes altho on widely opposite sides of the sad/bitter ex energy scale and I cannot be the only one that thinks this

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

ahoy there 👋 i just remembered a horrible conversation i had recently in which little old me brought up joey batey because i love him and EVERYBODY ELSE immediately proceeded to google him and then bash him for being a basic white man 😭 AND SOMEONE THOUGHT HE WAS DANIEL RADCLIFFE 😭 and they all said they thought i would have better taste because i was TOO WEIRD FOR HIM (weird being a good thing) 😭😭😭 let me tell you, could a BASIC man say cause ive been here so many times before dont you think i look pretty curled up on this bathroom floor where you see weakness i see wit sometimes i fall to pieces just to see what bits of me dont fit and when i stand those folks will run and tell the tales of what ive become theyll speak of me in whispered tongues and say my name like it shakes their bones ???? NO A BASIC MAN COULD NOT!

Bestie this literally broke my dear heart this morning (haha, my puns strike again). I was literally putting my cloak on and brushing my teeth as I was getting ready for the tavern and mountaineering today, and in my free hand I was reading this and I swear to the gods above in the mirror I could see my face twisting in absolute, "What the fuck?? How can people be so mean???" like no wonder the poor blorbo dude swears off social media

Dude's a wise old soul, and I'd 10/10 dedicate a season up in the mountains meditating and learning whatever knowledge he could pass down to me

What they're doing is like referencing a deity character from mythology and calling them "basic" lmao

Joey is not in the same category as those basic bro dudes you meet at a pub who are like, "Oh, yeah, I'm a musician; I play the guitar and stuff *hair flip* — Music just speaks to my ✨soul✨" and then when you follow them back to their apartment they just strum the same three Nirvana chords over and over again and think that counts as serenading or something, like a sad little Emperor Penguin with no song to woo you over with for the upcoming hatchling season

Am I speaking from experience? No. Well. Maybe. Yes. A little. Doesn't matter, POINT IS: Joey saw the bar for men, looked at it, and said, "Is anyone gonna raise that a little higher, for heaven's sake?" and did not wait for an answer, and now that bar is literally so wedged up into the sky high above I just cringe at every Kyle I come across upon my many, many ventures into the world of courting men

Anywho... Dedicated bodyguard rant aside, Daniel Radcliffe himself ain't even a basic dude lmao

They're really gonna watch this video and call the man, the myth, the legend himself basic

I swear to the gods above; boys with dark hair and blue/green eyes are on a different level, ie. Jaskier, Joey, Daniel, Percy Jackson etc

Also bestie I sure hope they weren’t your friends! If so, they suck — join your local DND club and make better friends <3

[sparkliest-bard-bracket]

Round 2 ✨Winners and Losers✨!

Everybody, please give a fond farewell and a pat on the back to these most excellent of bards, who defeated their adversaries in Round 1, to be valiantly eliminated in Round 2:

Thom Merrilin (Wheel of Time)

Daeron (The Silmarillion)

Chong (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

Dimentio (Super Paper Mario)

Starling Birdsong (Realm of the Elderlings)

Carrie Wilson (Julie and the Phantoms)

Kvothe (The Kingkiller Chronicle)

Fflewddur Fflam (The Chronicles of Prydain)

Kyoami/The Fool (Ran/King Lear)

Sprig Plantar (Amphibia)

Thistle/Sissel (Dungeon Meshi)

Oli/TheOrionSound (Empires SMP)

Megamind (Megamind)

Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart (Classicaloid)

Marceline the Vampire Queen (Adventure Time)

Snufkin (Moomin)

Alan-a-Dale (Robin Hood)

Remus Sanders (Sanders Sides)

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies)

Dob the Half-Orc Bard (Oxventure)

Tsukasa Tenma (Project Sekai: Colorful Stage!)

Steve McKenzie/Jester (Galavant)

Rocky (Lackadaisy)

Kermit the Bard (Tales of Tinkerdee)

Sir Robin's Minstrels (Monty Python and the Holy Grail)

Puss in Boots (Shrek)

Klavier Gavin (Ace Attorney)

Ron Stampler (Dungeons & Daddies)

Hap Gladheart (Realm of the Elderlings)

DJ Cadence (Club Penguin)

Yara of Nowhere, the Wandering Bard (A Practical Guide to Evil)

Bilbo Baggins (The Hobbit)

And give three cheers for those bards who have defeated not one, but two of their opponents, and who will go on to compete in the next round!:

David Bowie (Real Life)

Finrod (The Silmarillion)

Apollo (Greek Mythology)

Edgin Darvis (Dungeons & Dragons: Honor Among Thieves)

Dr. Teeth and the Electric Mayhem (The Muppets)

“Weird Al” Yankovic (Real Life)

Raz'ul, Son of Daz'ul (BomBARDed)

Binary Bard (Poptropica)

Hannah Montana (Hannah Montana)

Leliana (Dragon Age)

Neil Banging Out the Tunes (Tumblr)

Loquatius Seelie (Critical Role)

Mettaton (Undertale)

William Shakespeare (Real Life)

Gerard Way (Real Life)

Rick Astley (Real Life)

Lúthien Tinúviel (The Silmarillion)

Kass (Legend of Zelda/Breath of the Wild)

Miss Piggy (The Muppets)

Kaylie Shorthalt (Critical Role)

Gabrielle the Battling Bard (Xena: The Warrior Princess)

Tom Bombadil (The Lord of the Rings)

Jaskier/Dandelion (The Witcher)

Neil Cicierega/Lemon Demon (Real Life)

Oscar Wilde (Rusty Quill Gaming)

Freddie Mercury (Real Life)

The Amazing Devil (Real Life)

Jack Black (Real Life)

Scanlan Shorthalt (Critical Role)

Maglor (The Silmarillion)

Dorian Storm (Critical Role)

Hisirdoux "Douxie" Casperan (Tales of Arcadia: Wizards)

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

The Witcher Characters as "Old School" Game Sites:

Geralt: Bella Sara

Jaskier: MyScene

Ciri: Club Penguin

Yennefer: Neopets

Triss: Pixie Hollow

Lambert: Toontown

Eskel: Poptropica

Vesemir: Oregon Trail/Zork

Renfri: Webkinz

[ghostinthelibrarywrites]

Hello! 👋 3 & 25 please?

3. favorite line/scene you wrote this year: My answer to this question changes every time I answer it, but my current favorite is this exchange between Jaskier and Yennefer in Tiny Shorts and Other Inspiring Things:

“Sing the song that you sang last night,” Yennefer says from the doorway, where she and Geralt are watching the concert.

“Uh.” Jaskier laughs nervously. “That song isn’t exactly child-appropriate.”

“She’s a baby.” He’s not looking at her, but he can hear the eye roll in her voice. “She’s not going to understand.”

Jaskier can’t exactly tell her that he wrote the song as an ode to the way her husband’s thighs look in the tiny shorts he runs in every morning. “It’s pretty rough. I just came up with it the other day. Haven’t really refined it.”

“It clearly worked. Just sing it, Jaskier.”

Jaskier takes a deep breath and turns back to the baby, who watches him with innocent green eyes. “Don’t judge me,” he tells her and starts to sing.

“Tiny shorts, do do do do do…”

He has to sing it three times before Ciri settles down to sleep, curling up her little body in the crib. Jaskier finishes with one final, “Take them off, do do do do do,” and turns to see that it’s only Yennefer standing in the doorway now, wearing a look on her face like she’s trying her hardest not to laugh.

As soon as he steps into the hallway and closes the door behind him, she says, “You never struck me as a runner, Jaskier,” in a sweet voice that tells him that she knew exactly what he was singing about.

Jaskier clears his throat, feeling rather like a penguin that just found itself facing down a polar bear. “I’m not. Just… appreciate fashion in all its forms.”

“I can see that.”

“Did Geralt leave?” Jaskier looks around desperately. He’s decided that Geralt is significantly less scary than his wife.

“He turns in early most nights,” Yennefer says. “He runs in the mornings, you know.”

“Oh, does he?” Jaskier asks, sounding a little strangled to his own ears. “Good for him.”

25. a fic you read this year that you would recommend everyone read: Once & Future by spqr is a recent warlord!Geralt fic that's just delightful from start to finish. While the Geraskier love story is great, it also has a wonderful friendship between Jaskier and Renfri that was the highlight for me.

Fanfic End of the Year Asks

[tampire]

#Tired and over it