#poor geralt

[stromuprisahat]

- You ignore my orders. Go off on a suicide mission. And instead of donning a breastplate, you dash into battle, shirt open, navel and whatnot exposed!

~ YOU'RE NOT MY FATHER, ROCHE! YOU'VE NO RIGHT TO TELL ME WHAT TO WEAR!

Dunno, but this sounds exactly like a stepfather/stepdaughter argument.

[felrend]

“Uhh…”

[fandom-trash-and-hyperfixations]

This is PERFECT art for this fic!!!! I adore it!

The lovely, talented @anarchycox​ commissioned me to draw Geralt and Jaskier from her fanfic, The Courting Season – here’s the summary:

Over winter at Kaer Morhen with Ciri, Geralt realizes that he loves Jaskier, and has for years. Everyone at the keep decides the only logical thing that can happen is that Geralt court and wed Jaskier. But Geralt wants to do it properly. So the strongest, most fearsome warriors in all the land, research how to woo a minor noble and send Geralt back into the world with elaborate lists and a game plan.

And it all is going great. Courting turns out to be a lot easier than he expected. He and Jaskier will be married well before the return to Kaer Morhen for the winter!

Jaskier is thrilled to have his best friend back, and be off adventuring again. Geralt is behaving a bit oddly, but well, people get weird sometimes.

A fic where Jaskier is the romantically clueless one. Just because he sings about love, doesn’t mean he’ll see it - even when it is Witcher sized and holding flowers right in his face.

If you haven’t already, go read her hilarious and adorable fic!

Thank you for the commission :)

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 131

Jasker is a dragon, sure. But he prefers his human form. He prefers pretty clothing and lutes over his scales and wings. He hasn't a hoard yet. He thinks. He's never truly cared for gold, though he knows that not all dragons have hoards of gold. That's just the default. What if he did have a hoard, and it just wasn't some boring old gold pieces? At first he thought his hoard must be his many exuberant outfits, but when he got into a scuffle and one outfit was ruined, he was disappointed but that was it. There was no anguish, no mourning, no big depressive meltdown over it's destruction... So probably not a hoard. Just an interest. He then thought it must be his songs. But when he heard a bard in some town playing one of his songs, he didn't erupt into scales and roars. He didn't burn down a city. He didn't even rip out his hair or anything. He wasn't even mad. He thinks you'd be more possessive and jealous over a hoard. He was mostly proud. The bard said it was a song he didn't write, he said it was by Jaskier, and he sang it quite well. But even if he didn't do any of those things, Jaskier would be mad, sure, maybe even mad, but never MAD. He thought of lovers being his hoard, but the thought went away very quickly. None of his lovers stay, and though it stings sometimes, he thinks he'd be flinging himself off a cliff if a treasure of his hoard literally got up and walked away from him. And then one day he meets a Witcher. The witcher looks at him with these piercing golden eyes, and Jaskier feels an audible shift in his soul, his being. He found it. His treasure. Maybe witchers are his hoard, and Geralt is just his first one. Maybe his hoard is just friends he meets. He doesn't know, all he knows is that he can't stop himself from staring at the gold of Geralt's eyes. Perhaps Jaskier does care for gold.

[squidwujun]

In this essay I will-

[ladycibia]

Good to see you back. I hope the rest of your year is good

Thank you 💖 I'm trying my best to suppress intrusive thoughts by playing videogames. And gwent

you never say no to gwent

[corrodedbisexual]

GERALT & JASKIER - THE WITCHER S03E02

[thequeeninyellowlace]

Geralt stared at the seal. It was, quite clearly, a real seal. A large seal. A big, wet, dark seal. Sitting by his fire. Warming itself. What the fuck.

Geralt shifted slightly, cracking a twig under his heel, and the seal’s head jerked up. Glossy, unnervingly intelligent black eyes met his. Geralt swallowed hard, strangely discomfited by the animal’s keen interest.

Suddenly, the seal began barking and squeaking. It threw itself forward and began gallumphing toward Geralt faster than it had any right to.

“What the fuck?!” Geralt yelled as he stumbled backward. He was glad Vesemir wasn’t around to see him running backward away from a fucking seal. His boot caught a tree root and he fell back, grunting as he hit the ground. The seal flung itself up and slam! It landed directly on top of Geralt, who struggled to draw his sword but was now lying on top of it.

As he flailed, the seal stretched its whiskery black mouth toward him and licked his face.

“Ahhhh!” Geralt shrieked like a little girl, and the the seal startled so hard that it leapt upward and suddenly appeared to separate from its fur. Geralt felt his medallion shudder hard for an instant before fucking Jaskier landed hard back on top of him, a furry pelt falling down over them. Jaskier stared down at him for a moment.

“Umm…Hi Geralt! You’re back early!”

“What the fuck was THAT?!” Geralt yelled, sitting up, somehow ending up with Jaskier—a completely naked Jaskier, he realized—in his lap.

“Oh. That.” Jaskier smiled nervously but winningly, putting on his best performer’s grin. “So, I guess I never told you I’m a selkie?”

Jaskier, a Selkie, had neglected to share his true nature with Geralt.

One fateful day, after Geralt returned from a hunt, he found their campsite devoid of the bard he expected.

Instead, he was met with the bewildering sight of a nonchalant seal lounging by the fire.

[xejune]

gerlion 🏹💕

[wraithofmorhogg]

Incorrect Witcher Quotes

Guard: You’re receiving a warning for having three people on one horse. Geralt: Shit. Milva: Wait, three? Guard: Yes? Cahir: OH MY GODS JASKIER FELL OFF!!!

[minne-cerbinna]

I think quite often of the optional little dialogue tree that one can get about Yaevinn in TW2 with an imported save if one sides with Iorveth, and particularly of just how Iorveth describes Yaevinn

The dialogue prompt "I once knew another Scoia'tael - Yaevinn." will lead to the following exchange:

GERALT: I once met another Scoia'tael leader.

IORVETH: Yaevinn. I knew him. He had beautiful dreams and desperately wanted me to share them. Asked the same of you, I heard.

GERALT: You know a lot about me.

IORVETH: I try to know as much as I can - about everyone.

They'll elaborate a little further in this dialogue about how they both agree with Yaevinn's reasons and the fact that Yaevinn "saw combat and killing as poetry" which Iorveth deems unrealistic because "war is prose, with no place for beauty" (how poetic).

But the interesting part to me is the statement that Yaevinn had "beautiful dreams" and how he was this grand idealist, because this seems to be in contradiction with Yaevinn's characterisation. In his novel appearance, he argues against Toruviel's idealism as he proposes shooting the unarmed messenger. In TW1, Geralt refers to him in his journal as being "disillusioned", as well as being "a cynic and a pragmatist", neither of which seem to hold with Iorveth's account. While this can be credited to the fact that it's possible that Iorveth's past-tense statement of "I knew him" means that he hasn't seen Yaevinn in some time rather than, or at least in addition to, the implied death. He has perhaps not seen him since the Second Northern War, where they were both in the Vrihedd brigade, and Yaevinn could have grown more cynical since the Scoia'tael were betrayed by Dol Blathanna, his earliest characterisation is that of the novel canon, and he does not present a particular idealism that would reflect the notion that he is a dreamer.

It can be taken as a choice of characterisation, because for all that Yaevinn is disillusioned, he does have his hopes and desires for the future and his plans at Vizima, just as Iorveth has his hopes for Saskia and Vergen. He has these dreams, even if he tenders them close to his chest and puts the practical aspects first before he allows himself to have this hope. And I think that is a really interesting interpretation, to have this juxtaposition, that he can be both disillusioned and a dreamer, and that he chose a scant few, Iorveth, and then Geralt, to share in those precious dreams.

The notion of Yaevinn having these "beautiful dreams" is also very pertinent to his TW1 characterisation, I think, because there are optional dialogues in which Yaevinn tells the accounts of how he once lived among humans and believed in assimilation, that the humans would accept the elves if given enough time, only to be persecuted and harassed at length until he finally accepted that there was no place for him there, that there could be no assimilation, only annihilation. And even though he knows it is a hopeless fight, he still proceeds onward. He knows his people are dying, and he knows that if they do not act quickly, they will be well and truly doomed to extinction, but he is still trying to fight. That is, in and of itself, an expression of a dream for a better future, even if he thinks it hopeless, or, as Iorveth criticises, unrealistic.

Serious character analysis aside, I think that the absolute funniest interpretation of this dialogue is that it is not to be taken literally about Yaevinn's idealism or lack thereof, but rather as a euphemism -- taking "beautiful dreams" as a euphemism for queer romantic interest; hence "he had beautiful dreams and desperately wanted me to share them" is something like "he likes men and asked me to be his lover", "I hear he asked the same of you" thenceforth meaning something like "were you also his lover/do you also like men" (and the response "you know a lot about me" therefore indicating that he is correct in his judgement). There's like a whole rebellion going on but Iorveth is just checking out his options, y'know.

[k-laconia-bug1]

Well I was on TikTok today and the video was if you wrote a book and two siblings were on opposite sides of the war and they faced each other what would they say?

Sent this to my lovable bestie/ co-worker and they told me to post it on Tumblr so I'm sorry blame @raerae132

Jaskier stared at his older sister fighting for the enemy he saw the moment his sister eyes widened in recognition "I'll take on the bard" His sister yelled voice filled with false spite "Ready for a round of play fighting little brother" He felt his sister voice spoke gentle in his mind "Bring it on" as he grappled for his daggers the fight for a couple of moments when he heard his sister spoke aloud for the first time "Tell our parents I'm sorry all I ever wanted was for you to be protected." As She aimed her staff incorrectly a stance She showed him one explaining it was a stance begging for it to backfire onto the user "and protect your Witcher.. he has my blessing" before Jaskier could reach Her the damage was done Her eyes now soulless as she lays on the once beautiful field of flowers a smile on Her lips and tear stained cheeks as Jaskier cries over her body

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 123

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

[blooms-in-april]

Me, trying to explain my Lambden/Lamskier/ Geraskier angst fic to a priest: So it's about a younger brother, whose lover died, and when his older brother refuses to help him get revenge, he fucks his wife. Who's not actually his wife, but his best friend, who is unrequitedly in love with him. The older brother, that is.

Priest:

Me: I don't think I'm explaining this very well.

Priest: Oh no, it sounds very interesting.

Me: I titled it Herodias. Which is probably sacrilegious, but oh well.

[fangirlforeversthings]

Them: imagine all of your favourite fictional characters coming together in a meet up

Me:........soo.......

...four ancient spartans including a polemarkhos a king a misthios and a general, a pirate captain, two dwarfs, an elf, the King of gondor, a former assasin te*rorist, three superheroes, five witchers, two vampires, two jedi knights, a jedi master and his clone commander, a clone captain, a Senator, a mandalorian and his adoptive alien son, a firebending war general, and the devil walked into a bar....

[tielmamon]

Part 2

"Oh- wh- hold on now, thought we were playing for fun?" Jaskier watches Ciri deplete his monitary resources with the sweetest smile, and truly he finds that he doesn't mind.

"I assure you, it truly is a delight taking your coin." He puts on an annoyed face and snatches her cards back just to squeeze another laugh out of her. Gods know this girl needs a bit of levity in her life right now. He wasn't good at a lot of things, realistcally. He's not skilled with a sword, not a pinch of chaos in him, but making people laugh? That he can do.

"Yeah, I'm sure you do." He glances at her, honestly more proud than anything else. Princess Cirilla of Cintra, a fiesty spark of a girl turned warrior. He wasn't there for her initial adjustment with Geralt for...obvious reasons but in the years when he was there, he's seen how brave and noble and irrefutably powerful she is. All that hurt and pain turned into pure determination. She's a flame, just like her mother. And most of all, Jaskier sees so much of his best friend in her. Not just the stubbornness to do good or fierce protectiveness over those she loves, but also the little things that make his heart ache. How she holds her sword, how she likes her meat, hell even how she walks. Undoutably a reflection of her parent's love and guidance.

Her parents...

The sharpness in his chest returns. Its strange. Years and years of loving Geralt had eventually reformed his once raging, constantly ready-to-burst love into a calm, surrendered sort of feeling. It's not that his love for the man lessened. On the contrary, every year he feels them grow and evolve into something more. Knowing that heartbreak was inevitable had given him a bittersweet sort of peace. So the pain in his chest that flares whenever he sees Geralt so openly love Yen faded with time, leaving a dull ache in its place.

Until now.

"I'm sorry you're here with me, instead of at the party." Ciri brings him out of his thoughts. He simply shakes his head.

"Oh, I'm not." In all honestly, he was a bit annoyed that everyone and their mother seemed to be invited to this conclave except him but then he remembers Geralt and Yennefer going together. He could only imagine what fancy, no doubt monochromatic outfit Yen would force Geral to wear. Then again, if Yennefer was the one asking he doubts Geralt would protest. Not as much as he would with him, anyway-

He cuts that train of thought before it sends him spiraling. He had worked so hard to keep himself incheck, keep his feelings to a minimum. To not feel, or at the very least look like the lovesick fool he was before.

"Valdo's off key warblng would make my ears bleed." He settles on a believable and admittedly true excuse. Valdo's overdramatic (even for him) vocals are definitely a factor, but he'd rather listen to that noise for days than watch Geralt dance Yennefer across the ballroom with that soft, painfully besotted look on his face. He might actually die of heartbreak if he does.

"Besides, I'm better off here." He smiles at her, reassuredly. He sees the princess sit up straighter, patting the spot beside her. He raises an eyebrow but sits down nontheless.

"Jask?"

"Yes, coin thief?"

"Does he know?" He feels his heartbeat pick up. He's sure than his body is noticibly tenses, judging by how Ciri looks at him like a kicked fucking puppy.

"Does who know what?" He knows what she's asking, because what else could she mean? But like a coward, he deflects. He turns to humor because really, thats his weapon of choice. She looks at him with such a sad look and he knows he's caught.

"Does Geralt know you love him?" Deflect. Run. Don't answer-

"Of course he knows I love him. He's my best friend." He prays that his answer is enough. It seems like it isn't .

"Jaskier." He is still and silent, almost like how the man in question often is. In the end, he finds that he's tired of lying about what he feels. So, he talks.

"I think so, yes. Pretty hard thing to miss after the years of songs and poetry and...well, you get the picture." He sees her face drop, and a certain panic sets in.

"Ciri- listen, I would never ever try and break up your parents, okay? I-I would never do that to your family." He says in a rush, desperate for her to realizes. Because yes, as much as he loves Geralt, he would never jeopardise this. They were quite literally destined to be together, and if Jaskier feels like his chest is being ripped out by a wyvern everytime he sees them then thats his problem, not theirs.

"You're part of this family too, you know." Jaskier has only ever been truly speechless a handful of times in his life. But when he feels her bring him into a hug far nicer than he technically deserves right now, he finds that he can't bring himself to say anything because gods, he wishes it were true. That he was part of this group. This family and not just a stray thread, waiting to be cut off and thrown away once again.

"You're family too." He nods weakly, a few tears spilling from his eyes. Smaller hands, not yet calloused by swords or spells brush a few tears from his cheeks using the blanket. He laughs wetly, complaining how dusty the blanket is, making him cry more which was definitely the real reason and not anything else.

"And I'm not upset at you Jaskier. I'm upset for you. I don't like seeing you hurt like this..." He sees her brows furrow, hands pulling away to clutch the covers. He chuckles, wiping away the rest of his tears.

"Oh, how lucky a man am I. To have such a fierce warrior-witcher-mage princess protecting me." He smiles but her frown doesn't waver. She adjusts herself on the bed to face him properly, laying on her side and slipping a hand to hold his.

"I'm serious Jaskier! You're happiness is important too." He squeezes the hand on top of his, mustering up enough courage to smile.

"My dear, I am happy with what I have now."

"Liar." He gasps, bringing a hand to his heart. She smiles, just a bit and he counts that as a win

"I would never!" He allows himself to breath when he sees her chuckle. He's exhausted, truly. His body feels heavy with the weight of his emotions and physical exhaustion of the day. Still, there is a determined princess cuddled up infront of him with furrowed brows and a sad look on her face that simply cannot wait until morning.

"We do not choose who we love in this lifetime. I didn't choose to fall inlove with my best friend the same way Geralt didn't choose to not reciprocate those feelings. Which is okay, because-...because my love for your father isn't one that seeks a reply. It simple is." Ciri recalls her memories.

Memories from Geralt and her in the woods, running and overwhelmed and terrified. She remembers Geralt telling her stories of his best friend- an obnoxious bard that told the best stories even though they weren't entirely true. The look of guilt and sadness and longing her father suprise had when he told her about him. The few tears she saw him shed behind a crack in the door the night he finally gathered up the courage to apologize to Jaskier for everything. She had never seen him so devastated.

The grin he didn't even bother to hide when Jaskier had offhandedly called him darling when he asked for the salt.

"But what if there is a reply? What if he does love you?" Jaskier shakes his head, looking down to his lap.

We could head to the coast...

Get away for a while...

Composing your next song?

No...No, just trying to work out what pleases me...

Jaskier bears his heart to Geralt on that mountain top. He doesn't breathe, doesn't dare look away. He waits and hopes and gods above, he loves so hard it hurts. Maybe just this once, he'll be enough. Maybe they could run away from this, from everything just for a year. Maybe-

Geralt stands and leaves. Jaskier turns and sees him disappear in Yennefer's tent.

"Darling, that's impossible." He smiles sadly, playing with her fingers. The memory of then mountain and all other instances of him and Geralt replay like an old song. He knew the melody and each lyric by heart by now.

"But Jaskier I've-" Ciri startles when Jaskier’s hand claps with hers loudly and suddenly. Her palm barely stings but she gets the hint to stop talking.

"I have his friendship. I have a-a family apparently, in you and Yen. That is...more than I ever dreamed of having. You all are more than enough for me." Ciri regards him for a moment, staring at him like she's reading his soul. Whatever she sees seems to satisfy- atleast for now, because she sighs and lays a head on his shoulder.

"You too." He leans back, cheek brushing her temple as they stare at the flames of the fireplace.

"Thank you." He pretends to believe her.

Part 1 (x)