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[little-bard]

Rescuing Jaskier bloopers

[little-bard]

fuck consistency in art !!!  we ballin !!!!!!  whatever comes out of my hand next is up to god !!!!

[little-bard]

"Here should be safe to set up camp," Geralt says, scanning the treeline with his eyes in that odd witcher way. Like he's seeing much more than a mere mortal could.

"Thank the gods," sighs Jaskier, who's been really starting to regret skiving off those physical fitness courses at Oxenfurt.

"Get a fire started while I tend to Roach."

"Oh Geralt, I'd love to, I would. Truly it's colder than a sorceress' shapely—"

"Jaskier."

"Well, as they say: you can lead a bard to timber, but you can't make him—"

"Just do it, Jaskier."

"I don't know how! All right? I've never built a fire in the middle of nowhere before! It's not one of the seven liberal arts, and I much prefer my fires stoked by comely barmaids in taverns."

Geralt looks at him for a long moment. It's a complicated look—frustration and amusement and a hint of regret. Mostly it's a look that says Jaskier is an idiot for joining him on the Path.

"Right," Geralt says slowly. He begins building the campfire himself.

"I imagine they teach wilderness survival to baby witchers at witcher school."

Geralt looks at him again and there's something different in his expression. The ghost of a smile? Jaskier doesn't quite know how to read it.

"Kaer Morhen," he says. "And yeah. Something like that."

"Oh?" Jaskier has to rein in his enthusiasm, his curious questions. Geralt so rarely reveals anything personal about himself or his past. Not that Jaskier has been forthcoming in that regard either. They live in the moment, day by day, but some context would help his creative process.

Besides all that, he genuinely wants to get to know Geralt a little better.

"Vesemir took me out into the forest one day. Gave me a knife and left me there for a month."

There is no bitterness in his words. If anything, the witcher sounds...almost fond. Nostalgic. Proud of his younger self for overcoming the challenges his mentors set before him.

It takes a moment for the true meaning of that to sink in and, once it does, Jaskier is horrified. His own parents weren't great, but even they would never simply abandon him.

"He just— like as a test— what—?"

"Real eloquent, bard. I doubt he had any choice. Probably wasn't even supposed to give me anything."

"How old were you?" he demands, unsure if any answer will make this revelation less abhorrent.

"Six? Seven? Maybe eight. I don't know." Geralt makes a gesture with his fingers and the pile of wood beneath his hand sparks with flame. "Not old enough to have learned Igni yet."

He can picture it, too, so vividly. Curse his dammed artist's imagination. Geralt, just a kid, alone and scared and definitely cold—because no one bothered to teach him how to start a fire.

"Stop it," the witcher snaps.

"What?"

"Looking at me like that. I'm fine. I was fine back then. Wasn't so bad at all compared to the Grasses. Vesemir came back for me like he said he would. I survived the trial—no, I didn't just survive; I exceeded all expectations, which is why they..." The witcher trails off. Takes a breath.

All of that... It's quite a lot of words for Geralt. Honest words, even.

It's his job to talk, to sing, to commit the most painful and difficult experiences to beautiful poetic verse. But Jaskier doesn't know what to say to his friend right now. Surely he has to say something.

"Geralt..."

"Don't waste your pity. Save it for the ones who didn't make it through. I did."

"Okay," the bard replies, careful and tentative. He isn't a brave man, nor a particularly kind one. But Jaskier considers himself an honest fellow so he adds, "Just because you made it through, you know, that doesn't mean what happened to you was all right, Geralt. Children aren't supposed to be left alone to fend for themselves."

The witcher laughs—a humorless, wretched sound. He doesn't say anything at all to that. Which is okay, really; Jaskier just needed him to hear it.

There is a long silence. The fire crackles. Jaskier absently strums his lute.

"You're gonna write a ballad about this, aren't you," Geralt says after a while.

"No!" Maybe. Yes. He won't perform it.

"Hm."

The fire crackles.

Quite out of the blue, Geralt tells him, "I befriended a wolf back then."

"What? You're joking!"

"Witchers don't have a sense of humor. Common knowledge."

"Common misconception. Most people are just stupid. No, hang on, stop distracting me—You had a pet wolf?!"

"Not a pet," the witcher corrects, smiling faintly. "Fangtooth was her own wolf."

"Fangtooth?" Jaskier repeats, struggling to contain his amusement. "Not Roach?"

"No."

"Forgive me, but that's adorable."

"I was just a child. I wanted to stay with her in the wilderness. Be a wolf, too. Or a knight." He shakes his head dismissively. Silly childish dreams.

"But you didn't," Jaskier says. And feels stupid for saying something so obvious.

"Too late for that," Geralt replies without reproach. "I was already a witcher."

"As a child, I wanted to run away and join the circus," the bard offers.

"Of course you did."

They're quiet for a moment then. Comfortable, shared silence. Just the sounds of birds and forest creatures, and Roach contentedly eating grass. The fire crackles.

"Geralt, will you teach me to light a fire? Without witcher magic, obviously, since I don't have any."

"Why?"

"Because...well, because I could be a more useful traveling companion. Like Fangtooth must've been."

"...Fine," Geralt agrees after some thought.

It is a skill he will be very grateful to have on freezing nights in the coming years, especially whenever the witcher is too injured or ill from those dreadful potions to help set up camp. He will try not to think of the child Geralt once was, subjected to horrific tests of his ability to survive all on his own.

Except he hadn't been on his own back then, not completely. And he isn't alone anymore, either.

[little-bard]

Geraskier

So you know how Jaskier (Viscount Julian) left home and changed his name and since he’s always short on cash, one would assume he was cut off (or cut himself off) from the family fortune?

So what if when his parents finally pass away and and he comes into a substantial amount of money, it is right about the time Geralt is really starting to feel the wear and tear on his body and wonder whether he can be a witcher for much longer, and he’s feeling anxious and melancholic about it but hasn’t admitted that to anyone.

But then he gets an invitation from his dearest friend Jaskier to join him on the coast at a cottage for some rest and recovery.

And when he shows up and drops his bags, he is instantly in love with the place. It seems like something he would build himself. Its decorated with items from their many years of travels. Ciri’s first wooden sword is hung on the wall. There is swallow imagery reflecting her as well, in the paintings and etchings. There are buttercups interwoven with wolves.

When Jaskier takes his things, there are hooks and contraptions that are perfectly shaped to hold his swords and armor without scratching or damaging them. The table and chairs are his perfect height. There is even a fireplace styled just like the one at Kaer Morhen, evoking the memories of many nights drinking with Eskel, Lambert, Coën, and Vesemir.

Jaskier hugs him so tightly he coughs, but it warms his heart and he forgets about his melancholy. Then Jaskier leads him by the hand and takes him to the back garden and his brothers and friends and most thrillingly of all, his daughter, are all sitting around with ale and they shout and toast him.

After he is kissed by Ciri and squeezed in many strong arms, he takes Jaskier aside. By then it is dark and the candles and torches are twinkling illuminating the tables where all the war stories are being told with laughter and copious amounts of swearing.

“What is the occasion, Jaskier? What’s going on? When did you buy this place?”

Jaskier looks at him with so much love and fondness, Geralt’s knees feel weak. Its getting harder and harder to hide these damndable feelings for his dearest friend.

“I didn’t buy it.” He says. “I built it.”

“You built it.”

“Well. I paid someone to build it. Obviously. The important question, though, is whether you like it.”

“I do,” says Geralt. “I love it.“

“Good. Because I built it for you. And the occasion is your retirement, or semi-retirement, if you desire it.”

It takes a good half hour to convince Geralt that Jaskier is not joking with him or teasing him. Jaskier places a key in his hand with a wolf etched on it. Geralt walks around the house in a daze. Jaskier follows behind with a gleeful smile. Like Geralt imagines mothers look on their children’s birthdays and they’ve given them the pony they’ve aways wanted. When the tightness has cleared from Geralt’s throat and he isn’t afraid he’ll sound emotional, he speaks.

“Jaskier,” he says, “why? Why would you do this for me?”

“Because,” Jaskier answers, “you deserve it. You’re always doing for others.”

Geralt feels the tightness in his throat again. He looks into his dearest friend’s eyes and his hands stray to Jaskier’s hips of their own accord.

He has never touched him this way. But he is overcome. Not thinking.

Jaskier smiles. “And because I love y—-“

He does not finish the word because Geralt is kissing him.

Ciri and Zoltan have wandered into the kitchen to look for another barrel of ale and the see the two of them kissing.

Ciri whoops and starts clapping. Zoltan mutters “its about godsdamn time.” Geralt’s ears turn red. Jaskier grins proudly.

Geralt has never felt more content. But he still teases Jaskier relentlessly before he invites him to move in with him.

“Its pretty lonely in this place.”

“You know, no reason I bring this up, but I have always wanted to live on the coast…”

“Maybe I should hire a butler, so the house isn’t so quiet…”

“I loathe you, witcher.”

“Actually, I have it on good authority that you love me.”

Geralt does that for a day or two, teasing between kisses, pretending he doesn’t understand what Jaskier is hinting at in the afterglow, for Geralt to invite him to move in.

They set up two chairs on the porch where they can see the waves and sit next to each other, Jaskier fiddling with his lute and notebook, Geralt nursing his wine.

And it is more than he had ever dared to dream.

[little-bard]

“It’s a wolf,” Jaskier said with a nervous smile, after several minutes of silence. “That’s … that’s obvious, right? It was an impulse purchase, I’ll admit. Saw it at a little festival and it reminded me of you …” 

Geralt lifted his eyes from the toy, brow furrowed. 

“It’s stupid,” Jaskier grew flustered. “You hate it. You can toss it-” 

“If it reminds you of me, shouldn’t you keep it?” Geralt asked quietly, turning the figurine over in his fingers. 

“Um,” Jaskier took the toy back, the wood as sleek as silk beneath his fingers. “You don’t … want it?” 

“You should think of me when you look at it,” Geralt cleared his throat, seemingly embarrassed. “I’d … like that.” 

“Oh,” Jaskier said, then, “oh.” With a faint smile, Jaskier looked at the wolf in his hand, then slid it into his pocket. He decided not to tell Geralt that, while his admission was sweet, Jaskier hardly needed a prompt for Geralt to be on his mind always. 

Next time, Jaskier thought, he would buy Geralt something embroidered with buttercups. 

[little-bard]

i don’t feel it till it hurts sometimes

[little-bard]

I think he’s still mad, Geralt 

[little-bard]

#geralt handling ciri with care

I wanted him to recognize her trauma, because it’s very easy to forget - when you see a character like Ciri and you think, ‘She’s been through trauma,’ and it’s really terrible - but we also forget that Geralt’s been through trauma. He was younger than her and being filled with magical chemicals and herbs, and screaming until he almost died, and kids are dying around him… Then he went out into the world, and the world hated him. So he's also experienced trauma. From someone who’s gone through that, he’s going to have that sense of patience with her... She’s been through a lot; she’s going to lash out from time to time. Instead of him lashing out in return, he’s going to sit back and try to understand. —Henry Cavill x

[little-bard]

hold tight

ref

[little-bard]

ppl getting so mad about jaskier having to walk on foot next to geralt is so funny like he’s a trust fund baby and geralt is geriatric. 

[little-bard]

the biggest girlboss of the last two centuries and your local manwhore

[little-bard]

Jaskier: What do you think about becoming friends with benefits?

Geralt, confused: Benefits? Like.. a dental plan?

Jaskier: ...Sure

[little-bard]

Jaskier, arriving at Kaer Morhen for the first time:

[little-bard]

Geralt: This is my bard, Jaskier. Nice hair, clever, has his own dagger. And unlike me, he really doesn't mind stabbing people. I shouldn't like that, kinda do a bit.

Jaskier: Thank you, sweetie.

Geralt: So I know you're experienced bandits and all but he'll definitely kill at least the first three of you.

Jaskier: The first seven, easily.

Geralt: Seven, really?

Jaskier: Oh, eight for you, honey..

[little-bard]

#like father, like daughter

[little-bard]

the beast

febuwhump day 5: “take me instead”

(geraskier, beauty and the beast au, we’re going to pretend this is whumpier than it is, 933, ao3 link in notes)

The people in the village were right, Geralt decided as he approached the castle–a curse had been laid on this land and a strong one at that. Not a thing grew on the moors. The trees at its border were knarled and leafless in the height of summer and the grass was brown as if it hadn’t rained here in an age. Stranger still was the thick cloud cover over the land, darkening the sky and promising a storm that clearly never came. Even the air felt sick, dry in his lungs and sour in his mouth.

With the story about the curse confirmed, he was more apprehensive now about the monster. Typically with a case like this, he would have assumed it was all a fairytale. But with so many similar accounts and a disappearance, he thought it was worth looking into. There were slight variations, but all the stories agreed on one thing: there was a hideous beast roaming the halls of this old keep.

Keep reading

[little-bard]

and for the @geraskierholidayexchange !! my giftee is @beckettillustrations who wanted some reverse!au with witcher jaskier <3 i had SO much fun with this and i hope you guys love it as much as i do