#deaf jaskier

[sammaggs]

1x02 Diefenbaker’s Day Off // 2x08 One Good Man // 2x13 White Men Can’t Jump to Conclusions // 3x01 Burning Down the House | Normalized

due South does a main character re-casting better than any other show on TV, and they do it by playing with television's own accepted meta-narrative.

Recasting a character has a long tradition in television, creating a viewership that knows and understands the storytelling short form at play. As viewers, we realize that sometimes actors aren't available to reprise a role (or simply aren't interested in it anymore); but, for the sake of the story, sometimes the show needs that character to come back. So we lean hard into suspended disbelief and just go with it. After all, the characters in the show accept the parareality of it—why shouldn't we?

Of course, the most famous example of a character recast would be the Dick/Darren disaster on 1960s sitcom Bewitched, when Dick York was unceremoniously replaced by Dick Sargent in the role of Darrin Stephens. ("The Dick Wars" would have gone absolutely insane).

it was... not successful

But they weren't the only ones to do it. Aunt Viv from Fresh Prince, Becky from Roseanne, Daario Naharis from Game of Thrones, Greg Serrano from Crazy Ex-Girlfriend (pain, agony)—recasting characters but maintaining the fiction is a storied tradition in TV. New actor, same character; totally normalized.

And shows continue to do it, even today, with a—uh—similar dedication to fucking it up doing it poorly.

why must we be punished like this

due South even engages in this trope itself in season 2, when hard-hitting investigative journalist Mackenzie King is recast and they don't even try to find an actress who looks similar. In 1x02 Diefenbaker's Day Off, she's played by brunette Madolyn Smith-Osborne; in 2x08 One Good Man, she's been replaced by blonde Maria Bello, and nobody talks about it.

yeah i'm absolutely the same person, obviously

Everyone diegetically (within the world of the show) is just like, oh yeah, that's hard-hitting investigative journalist Mackenzie King. Totally. Only non-diegetically (outside of the world of the show) does the viewer go "No, that's not the same person." Internally, the fiction proceeds as usual.

So what would happen if, say, Samantha Stephens turned to Dick Sargent and said "You're not Darrin," when everyone else in the show continued to treat him as though he was? Or if Jaskier told Geralt that he knows he's not actually Geralt, and everyone treated him like he was delusional?

Or if Fraser, even, had recognized Mackenzie King as someone entirely different, and everyone treated him like he had a hole in his bag of marbles because of it? Of course that's Mackenzie King; even her boss knows it. No, she's never been a brunette. What are you talking about?

And that's exactly what happens in Burning Down the House.

the rays vecchio

Diagetically, everyone else treats Callum Keith Rennie's character as though he is Ray Vecchio. "Oh, good, you found him," says Det. Huey. Elaine, Franchesca, literally everyone else both at the station and outside of it treat Callum Keith Rennie Ray Vecchio as though he is David Marciano Ray Vecchio. They're acting exactly as any other TV character would in the face of a recasting: as though absolutely nothing had happened.

Except for Fraser.

Fraser's specific brand of parareal Canadian plot magic means that he's immune to the recasting blindness; he's acting as an agent of the viewer, voicing our non-diegetic concerns. Fraser is (as he so often is) a character with one foot outside of the narrative. He's just always been like this and he doesn't know why.

oh this man is infuriating and hot, fuck. shit.

And for a character who already thinks he is likely insane (he sees the ghost of his dead father! He communicates with his deaf half-wolf! He is instantly committed to a mental institution upon voicing the actual true story of his life!), this is very extremely distressing. Fraser thinks he's actually lost it this time, because everyone else in due South is acting like a TV character, and Benton Fraser is acting like a viewer.

This is so brilliant on so many levels. They just fully lampshade the damn thing. It allows our protagonist to speak for disgruntled or confused viewers. It engages at a postmodern level with television as a medium with a storied history (and due South is incredibly postmodern; nearly every episode is or contains a reference to another piece of media). It's written from the perspective of someone who loves and is knowledgeable about TV tropes.

And it gives us an entirely new Ray while still maintaining respect and loyalty to the original, something no other straight (lol) recast could ever do.

Genuinely one of the most clever, witty, well-crafted hours of television ever made. I could write essays about so many different parts of it. And I guess I will!!!!!!

It’s Burning Down the House week in our dS Stacked Rewatch!

[lazyjellyfishcreation]

My thoughts on witcher!jaskier

So, so. I have been looking at a lot of witcher!jaskier shit lately, and eventhough bear!jaskier strikes a cord in my heart, to me, jask will always be a cat. So, with Jaskier being a cat, he would know Aiden, that would be logical. My question: what would their relationship be? my headcanon, Jaskier is Aidens teacher! Hear me out. Julek (jaskier's first actual name) was a promising young witcher of about 50 years old when it happend. He doesn't go to the caravan often because he doesn't like his siblings all that much, but he occasionally does to gamble and drink without having to worry about prejudice. He gambles his fun money away and gets drunk as a skunk in the process. He then remembers just how much he doesn't like being at the caravan and in his drunken mind decides to leave the caravan then and there to continue on the path. On his way out he stumbles into the wrong cart and finds Aiden. Aiden came out wrong. When he went trough the grasses (i hc that eventhough the cats do take in witchers from other schools that came out wrong, they also made their own, and aiden was one of the later.) Usually, a cat comming out with weird mutations isn't a problem, that's the cats school's specialty. But Aiden was a step too far. Aiden was deaf after the grasses. And the mages wanted to know why, so they strapped him to a table, to dissect him later. that's where Julek finds him. at 12 years old, scared, feverish from the grasses, alone, unable to hear, and not knowing what is going got happen to him. Julek, drunk as he is, decides that this is the perfect opportunity to make a shit decision and just. Takes. The kid. Julek just steals this child, and when he sobers up he realizes that that was a shit desicion but can't go back now, not when the kid looks up at him with scared sad eyes and go god he is gonna get so attached to this kid. So, Julek raises Aiden to the best of his abilties. He feeds him, trains him, teaches him the speech of hands (sighn language). Aiden is a smart boy, and phenomenal with trowing knives, he truly has impeccable aim. He's large too. Whatever took his hearing made him grow fast as fuck. Eventually, just when Aiden is getting used to not hearing, after a year or so, fate is cruel to him once again and takes his silent safety. Getting his hearing back is excutiating. Everything is loud, and sounds are so sharp now and it is overwhelming and aiden just want's it to be quit again but it is never quiet and and and. He's not having a good time. It takes him well over a month for him to adjusted to sounds. But now his hearing is better then any witcher's. It's overwhelming and it hurts but at least he can hear the monsters coming now.

All the while they are getting chased. Rememeber: Julek took a kit that wasn't his, not only that, Aiden was supposed to be a sience experiment and the cat mages want him back. so, 3 years after aiden getting stolen they make the desicion to go back to the caravan and claim aiden as julek's kit, to keep them from being hunted.

only problem: only grandmasters can assighn a witcher a kit to go on the path with, and the current grandmaster won't do it, because the mages want to keep him. so, Julek does the sane thing and chalenges the granmaster. If he wins and kills the grandmaster, then he becomes the grandmaster and can claim Aiden. if not, well... he wont be around to witness what they would do to his kit (son) nobody expects this 50 something year old witcher to beat the grandmaster with a century of experience under his belt. Julek is good, but he's (relatively) young. They are all wrong. Julek wins. Aiden is his. He claims his kid, steps down from the grandmaster position and fucks right off. I have so much more for this au but it's late so i might write that later if you want.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Quiet on the Path (Male!Witcher x Jaskier)

Hello! can i request a jaskier x witcher male reader?

tw injury mention

"Is he... going to keep following us?"

The bard had dared to hope that Geralt was an outlier when it came to general chattiness among witchers, but apparently he was among the more talky of the breed.

Being nearly speared through the gut by the branches of a leshen had not improved Geralt's dour demeanor. Luckily Geralt was aware they were skirting the general territory of another witcher.

He had not spoken a single word, this other witcher. At first Jaskier assumed they spoke in magic ways, but soon realized the signs they used were not the typical Witcher signs.

Jaskier had found himself thrown bodily from the little cabin this witcher had resided in while he healed Geralt with concoctions and herbal remedies.

Jaskier never thought he'd miss Geralt's gruff and blunt stoicism, but it was better than completely being stonewalled.

In any case, they had left when Geralt was well enough to travel, although he had spotted the silent witcher following them.

"He's an old nanny goat, worse than Vesemir." Geralt rolled his eyes. "He didn't think I was better enough to ride yet. He'll follow us for another fortnight, at least."

"First off, only you could try and make such a giant of a man seem less intimidating by calling him a nanny goat. Second, how in the living hell did you get all that? He hasn't said a word since we arrived!"

Geralt's face bordered on disappointment, and Jaskier felt an unfamiliar twinge of shame. "I thought a bard would be the first to know that words are only one way to communicate ideas."

That week is the most frustrating of Jaskier's life. There are no words spoken, but the conversation, for once, is one that the bard cannot follow. Geralt and his silent companion move their hands almost too quickly to be seen, clearly using a language of signs that Jaskier cannot hope to decipher.

Geralt is more animated than ever, laughing his deep raspy laugh and leaning back in contentment, and Jaskier practically growls at not having the secret of how to get Geralt in this mood revealed to him.

He keeps attempting to catch the silent witcher off guard, to trick him into speaking. He knows he's not deaf, because there was a smirk when he asked a whispered question to Geralt, asking if this witcher was one of his brothers.

But nothing happens, not until Geralt has gone off hunting, and the silent one is left alone with Jaskier as they make camp.

Jaskier can barely abide silence, so he talks as much as he can. He asks questions but doesn't even leave space for answers.

To be honest, it sounds almost as if he's on the verge of a panic attack by the time the witcher's massive hand clamps over his mouth, stifling the flow of words.

"Are you done?" the witcher smirks, and Jaskier shudders at the sound of the voice.

He nods, unable to get any words out.

"I tend not to speak. I use my hands instead. But your... interest. It is... intriguing."

When Geralt returns to camp after the hunt, he's not entirely surprised to find Jaskier pinned down flat as the witcher kisses him.

"Well, that's one way to shut him up." Geralt laughs. The witcher sits up, still straddling Jaskier, placing a hand back over the bard's mouth despite a protest.

I like him. I'm keeping him. he signed.

Geralt only chuckled.

[thedemonofcat]

Modern Au: One of the darkest days in Jaskier's life was when the doctor told him he was going deaf. As a musician on the brink of success, the diagnosis of a genetic disorder that would gradually steal his hearing felt like a cruel twist of fate.

In an attempt to cope, Jaskier was urged to join a support group for people facing similar challenges. There, he met Geralt, a guarded man with a service dog called Roach by his side. Geralt, nearly completely blind due to his own condition, piqued Jaskier's curiosity.

Needing a distraction from his own troubles, Jaskier became determined to break through Geralt's reluctance and win his friendship.

[sayafics]

Soul-bonds & Heartaches - Chapter IV

Hey guys! Sorry for taking such a long break, I had a lot of fsmily events over the last few weeks and had a hard time juggling time.

I do hope you enjoy the update, though. I think this chapter will be the last for this series unless there's specific prompts/ideas you want to see. (If so, let me know in the comments or asks! I'd be v happy to write them <33)

TW: implied SA, slight violence

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Masterlist

Geralt had searched for months, the days scraping by as he looked for Andromeda in every shadow, in every smile, in every laugh that haunted him on his travels.

He had left his friends - left them all so he could find her.

Cirilla was safe with Yennefer at Aretuza, and Jaskier had wandered to distant lands, his heart full of broken ballads of an unfinished journey.

Geralt and Yennefer had kept a tentative friendship, ever so cautious to not overstep the boundaries Geralt had so diligently drawn up. Friendship came to them with ease, but every interaction was soured by guilt from one party and longing from the other.

Geralt ventured through the continents, unsure of what guided him and where. His mind was bare of thoughts and his heart burning with emotions he had never been taught to deal with. He was a mess.

He had barely slept since Andromeda had left, living off the scarcest meals as his stomach turned to lead at the idea she may be starving in some backwashed village all because he had messed up and sent her running.

Andromeda was a princess. She was not made for the life he lives. Yet she still followed him into danger, still healed his every wound, and still stood bravely in the face of death if it meant Cirilla would be okay.

She trusted Geralt, trusted him to help them survive, to help them live and find a purpose. Now she was alone, far from them all. And he did not even know if she was safe.

Andromeda was an enigma, a presence so addicting he felt his skin crawl at the realisation he had been so far apart from her for so long. His heart would burn as it longed for her. His mind was plagued with the sound of her voice, his skin imprinted with the sensation of her hands brushing against his skin as she took care to treat his wounds after every battle, his eyes tracing her silohuette in the shadows as he forced himself to sleep at night.

Months.

Months of searching and no success.

Geralt was laid back in a bed, facing the ceiling as he laid an arm over his forehead and scrunched his eyes closed in defeat. He couldn't get her out of his head, her eyes burned into his mind, and sometimes, in the dead of night, he would pretend she was watching him as he slept. Ever a watchful eye, a caring friend, a loving mate.

Perhaps that was why this situation took him by surprise.

He smelt it - a deep and honeyed scent of orange blossoms and jasmine tickling his senses as he leapt up from his place on the bed.

He inhaled deeply, a wild beast searching for its prey. His shoulders tensed as he leapt up to replace his sword and dagger into their respective belts, hands rummaging through blankets and over furniture to collect trinkets and vials he had thrown carelessly across the tavern room as he lost himself in his grief.

Geralt marched through the tavern he had taken residence in, deaf to the cries of indignation of drunk patrons he barged past and eyes seeking a familiar head of hair in the crowd.

His senses led him far from the tavern he hoped Andromeda was hidden in, pushing him to march towards the outskirts of town.

Geralt had never found himself fearing for his life, never had he faced a creature he could not slay and never had he doubted the skills instilled upon him from infancy.

Yet, in this moment now, as he tore through the wilderness in the careful embrace of the night sky, the air thick with fear and horror as the smell he had been craving - the smell he had been fantasising about for months - made itself known to him and grew stronger as he drew closer, he felt a shred of fear wedge itself in his heart.

He could hear a stuttered heartbeat, ragged breaths, and a cloying scent of terror threatened to burn his eyes.

He dared not speak a word, fearful even the faintest whisper would turn his trail into phantom sensations, and he would be following nothing but an echo. A ghost of the woman he had lost.

Still, his shoulders were raised in determination, eyes narrow as he searched through overgrown shrubs and low-hanging trees, head on a swivel as the hand on his right side twitched, ready to reach for his sword if a threat made itself known.

"Please..."

It was a quiet whisper, a pleading whine. And that's how Geralt knew.

It was her.

He would recognise the melody of her voice anywhere. He could be holding onto this life by a thread, and her voice would the only thing he wanted. Needed.

Geralt broke out into a sprint, hand drawing out his sword as he feared what creature could have her so subdued by fear.

He came to a stumbled halt as he took the scene in ahead of his, hand tightening around his sword as a threatening sneer painted itself across his face.

There she stood with her back to him, she was dressed in leathers. They looked clean, neat. Next to her foot laid a single dagger, the hand that seemingly held it before had blood flowing from it, ruby pearls cascading down her fingers to seep into the damp soil.

The sight reminded him of the night with the ghouls, of how he had bled similarly before running to find her, only to miss her by a hair's breadth.

He had found her now.

But she was not safe.

Her back was to him, but he could see how her figure trembled in fear, a calloused hand twisted itself into the careless waves her hair had been flowing down her back in, a knife held to her throat as a man threatened her with a painful death, and forsaken torture.

It didn't take long for the pair to realise someone had joined them, and as the assailant took in Geralt's presence he twisted the girl harshly so her back was against his chest, the hand in her hair tugging her head back so he could press the knife harshly into her skin.

"Geralt."

Andromeda's eyes were wide, pupils blown by fear and mouth parted in surprise.

She looked... good.

She looked healthy, and had it not been for this moment he had stumbled upon, Geralt was sure she had been safe too. The hollows of her face had filled slightly over the months she had been gone. Her eyes no longer held an ache and were not weighed down by pain and longing. As though she had been eating properly, and was able to sleep through the night despite her fear of the dark.

"Rory..."

Her face shuttered at his whisper, drawing in a sharp breath as she ignored the threat of the man behind her and focused on taking in the man who stood in front of her.

Despite all his betrayals, all the hurt he had inflicted upon her, despite his harsh words and unprovoked actions, she found a weight lifting from her shoulders at the sight of him.

He looked ragged, as though he was worn down and tired. And some part of Andromeda was selfish enough to hope she was the cause of it.

A wince escaped her as the man pressed the knife harder against her throat, feeling a warm trickle down her throat, pooling at the hollow at the base of her nack.

A growl ripped from Geralt's throat, "let her go and I'll give you a quick death."

The man scoffed, "an' why should I do that? She's mine, I found 'er first. Get lost Witcher, we don' want y'r lot 'round here."

Geralt huffed in amusement, taking a step foward as he raised his sword higher in a show of promise, "what do you want? If not a quick death."

The man's eyes narrowed, his dark, bushy brows drawing into a frown and peeking past the strands of ebony hair that fell over his face in rivulets. His face had paled when he caught sight of the Witcher, but now it began to redden at the reminder of the cause of his indignation, "this bitch stole me silver. I need repayment, so 'm here t' get it. Been huntin' her down for weeks now, quick little brat, this one. Think I deserve a reward."

A leering smile stretched across the face of the gaunt man, the hand in her hair leaving to wrap around her waist as he pulled her further into him, pressing and feeling.

Andromeda screwed her eyes shut as nausea threatened to overwhelm her senses.

Geralt twisted his head, his heart roaring at the scent of fear that rolled off her in crashing waves, at her quiet whimpers and horrified glances.

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a hefty bag he had been rewarded for a recent job he had been successful in. He threw it at the man's feet, wary to give into violence so soon, afraid his need for vengeance would only cause Andromeda more hurt.

No, first she had to be safe. Then he would do what his mind was screaming for him to when he first came upon the scene.

The man looked towards the bag in amusement, eyes dragging their way back to Geralt - "no amount of silvers goin' t' gimme what I need."

"And what do you need?"

"Her. Or her bits at least."

Geralt's heart thudded at his lecherous smile and travelling hands, face grim as he tried to think of a way to help without risking Andromeda getting hurt.

Andromeda spoke then, "then you'll let me go?"

Her voice was quiet, tainted with despair and dread. Geralt screwed his face up in anger and cut off the man with conviction before he spoke, "you won't touch her."

The man laughed unashamedly, head thrown back in glee, "already am Witcher, see."

His hands roved over her, dragging harshly from her waist to her stomach, spanning up to the valley of her breasts and tracing her throat before winding itself in her hair once more. All the while, Andromeda screwed her eyes shut, her stomach roiling in protest at the feel of his touch.

"It's okay, Geralt," there was a whisper of defeat as she looked at him, her eyes glittered as they pooled with expectant tears. The situation was too precarious, too unpredictable. She knew Geralt couldn't help her without risking her life, and a part of her felt envious when she thought of how he had succeeded in helping those who had been in much more vile situations than her own. A traiterous voice told her that if Yennefer had been in her place, he would have fought endlessly for her safety without hesitation.

But Andromeda was not Yennefer, and she didn't hold the same place in Geralt's heart that Yennefer did.

"It's okay," she repeated, her voice stronger despite the fact she felt herself breaking as the seconds passed. She would accept the fate ahead of her. She would pray for her survival and beg the Fates to allow her the strength to move past it and be better.

But if she were to succumb to death, she would walk into its welcoming arms with a relieved smile, "it's okay, Geralt," tears flowed down her face freely now, shoulders lowering as she forced her body to relax, "you'll be free." To love Yennefer, to be with her without guilt.

She had expected to find silent relief in his eyes or a sigh of understanding to escape past his lips. Instead, her words seemed to anger him. Her acceptance of her fate, her willingness to give her body and free will away simply because she thought he would be happy, ignited a blazing fire within him.

Geralt would fight endlessly for Yennefer. But he would wage wars for Andromeda. He would level cities and burn worlds in her name.

It was Andromeda who he pined for all these years, Andromeda whom he wished to pick but felt undeserving of, Andromeda who he was tied to so intricately that he revered the bonds which attached them with unadulterated adoration.

It was Andromeda. It has always been Andromeda.

Geralt nodded, his face expressionless as he lowered the arm holding his sword. The assailant fould himself straightening in surprise, baffled at how the Witcher had given up so easily.

Andromeda's face crumpled in a mixture of understanding and disbelief. It was what she had expected. She wasn't Yennefer.

Geralt lowered himself to the ground, bending at the knees as he placatingly spoke, "I'm going to put the sword down, then I will leave."

The man didn't understand why Geralt would discard his sword before leaving. If Geralt accepted the assailant's terms, then he could leave freely with his weapon if he so wished.

He opened his mouth to speak as such, but a vicious roar escaped Geralt, one filled with grief and guilt and anger as his left hand was thrown forward from behind his back and a knife lodged into the dark-haired man's kneecap.

The assailant let out a wail of agony, falling to the ground harshly. He hadn't expected the pain, hadn't expected Geralt's harsh attack, so the knife fell freely from his hands without causing Andromeda much hurt.

She fell to the floor with the injured man, but before he could reach for her once more she leapt away from him, eyes wide in fear as she saw how he frothed at the mouth and spewed off slurs at both herself and Geralt.

Geralt didn't wait a moment longer, leaving his sword behind he lauched himself at the man. Geralt burned with rage, every scent and every sound a reminder of how close he was to losing Andromeda all over again.

He continued wailing on the man, every hit harder than the last, and his anger did not wane until the man took a rattled last breath. It was then he looked up to find Andromeda staring at him in stunned silence.

Andromeda should have been wary and fearful of Geralt. Her heart should have trembled as he stood to step over the crumpled corpse to stalk his way to her. She should have trembled and cried at the sight of him inhaling deeply, refamiliarising himself with her scent and the overwhelming bounds of emotions that spurted from her uncontrollably.

But as she reached towards his hand that was stretched towards her, palm up - staring at his raw and bleeding knuckles, at the spurts of blood which speckled across his face and the greasy strands of hair that fell across his face - she found herself bubbling in desire.

He had done this for her. To protect her.

She glanced towards the motionless body behind Geralt, hand finally enclosed in his own as he tugged her up to stand - he had killed for her.

He had killed for her.

Andromeda didn't have a chance to look into his eyes, to see the passion and fear and love that drowned his amber eyes. Instead, Geralt drew her into a shaky embrace, as though he couldn't believe she was standing in front of him, as though he couldn't believe he had found her.

When Andromeda didn't rear back from his gentle touches, he tightened his arms around her as a shuddered breath escaped him. He buried his head in the tresses of her hair, finding solace in the familiar scent of orange blossoms and jasmine as he i haled deeply. He tried commiting her form to memory, tried to memorise how her body melded into his own, how it fit against him.

But Geralt could spend an eternity with her in his embrace, and he would still yearn to hold her for longer.

Geralt stiffened at the feeling of a light caress against his back, it was a hesitant touch he soon recognised as Andromeda returning his embrace.

He could no longer help it.

Geralt of Rivia. Butcher of Blaviken. The White Wolf. The Witcher.

All of these twisted parts of his were warriors, stripped of emotions and imbued with skills and tactics.

Yet, in her warm embrace, his eyes began to burn as traiterous tears escaped.

Andromeda closed her eyes in quiet relief at the feeling of his tears against her head, hoping to cherish the moment before Geralt of Rivia replaced her Geralt.

Before Yennefer's Geralt took the place of her own.

"Come back."

Yennefer's Geralt never did come back, and Andromeda found herself wondering if he had even existed in the first play or if he had simply been a mask to hide Geralt's deeper feelings.

His voice was raw, it was quiet. Almost child-like, tinged with desperation as he held onto her tighter, fearful she would slip between his fingers once more.

"Come back, Rory," he pleaded, "come back to me. Come back with me."

She shut her eyes in agony, knowing every inch of her being begged her to say yes. But she knew better, after all this time, she knew better than to blindly say yes.

The truth was, over the last few months that she had been gone, there were no burning sensations that plagued her. There was no sign through her bond to Geralt displaying that he was laying with another.

Not even a burn of the lips like the one she had felt so many moons ago.

But she knew better.

"Do you love her?"

She had to know. She couldn't leave him without knowing, and she couldn't stay when she thought he did.

Geralt pulled back, hands reaching to cup her face as he pulled her face up to look at him, his eyes earnest as he spoke, "I did. Perhaps a part of me still does."

He saw the way her face crumpled at that, but he forced himself to continue, "but it's a thing of the past. I picked you. I pick you. I have every day since that night by the fire"

A harsh laugh escaped her as she tried to pull away unsuccessfully, "then why did you kiss her that night?"

He closed his eyes as he was overcome with guilt, "I didn't do it because I love her. I told her I wanted you, I needed you. She wanted to say goodbye. And it was wrong of me, I know, and I am so sorry, little one. But it is over, never to happen again."

"How can I believe you? You lied to me once already."

Her words were spoken defeatedly, but it caused determination to rise in Geralt. He brought a hand to reach for her own, placing her palm against his chest, against his heart - "ask me."

She looked at him in confusion, a small frown tugging at her lips, "what?"

"Ask me."

She knew what he meant, of course she did and she found herself breaking into a sweat as she tried to string her words together.

"Do- do you love me, Geralt?"

"Only you, only ever you." Andromeda could feel his thudding heart, the way it beat against its cage as he confessed the truth after so long, begging to bare himself to the girl. To show all his scars and faults, and plead with her to accept him and love him as he is.

She found her own heart began to beat in sync.

"It's only ever been you, Rory. You're all I ever want," he leaned closer to her, nose brushing against her own as his breath fanned over her mouth, the sensation causing blood to rush and tint her face a darkened pink. "I love you," the whispered confession came out at a rushing pace. He began echoing his words as he teetered between kissing her or letting her go.

Thankfully, heart satiated by the confession, spirits reignited, and doubts diminished, she looked at Geralt with eyes full of adoration. Her hands skimmed up the leathers of his arm, carressing over his broad shoulders before tickling up his neck as they took their place at the edge of his jaw, close enough to tug a few strands of hair as she dragged him closer.

Her tongue flicked out her mouth, lightly tracing the shape of his lips only a breath away, every accidental brush against his lips caused Geralt to flush red until his impatience got the better of him, "kiss me."

The demand was fulfilled with vigour as Andromeda soared up on her toes as Geralt leaned down. They met with a soft kiss, their lips gliding against each other as hesitance melted into passion, and they began to pour eons' worth of unreminisced desires into a single kiss.

The kiss caused their souls to brighten, a pleasurable burn racing through their body as the claim Geralt had made all those years ago sang harmoniously at their union.

Andromeda wasn't sure how long they had been kissing, but when she pulled back to gasp for air she found herself tucking back some loose strands of hair behind his ear, a shy smile bracing her face as she confessed, "I love you too."

"Come home, little love."

Home was where her heart lived, with her family. With a grumpy Witcher, a runaway princess, and a boisterous bard.

"Take me home, Geralt. Take me whever you go."

They stood there for some time, their heads leaning against one another, eyes closed as they basked in each other's presence.

Andromeda's hand found its way back to Geralt's chest, finding solace in the racing beats of his heart.

Geralt's hands had never left Andromeda's face, absentmindedly tracing the contours of her face, following every blemish and scar that graced her skin.

Soon night turned into dawn, and they looked at each other with renewed vigour in the golden light, drinking in the site of each other hungrily.

Geralt had found Andromeda.

Andromeda had found Geralt.

Taglist: @welliguessiwritethingsnow @kneelforloki @xicesam @lovesickollie @supersoilderswhxre @henryownsme @makemydaysworthit @pookiesnatcher @starlightaurorab

[hidden-misthios]

Something in the Orange (part 2)

Pairing: Lambert x female!sorceress!reader

Word count: 3 601

Summary: When Geralt of Rivia disappears, Jaskier has no choice but to ask his best friend for help. Although struggling with her own issues, Y/N agrees and they join Vesemir and the others in Kaer Morhen. The search might be difficult but not as difficult as the certain redheaded witcher who keeps challenging her.

A/n: I’m sorry for a long wait! 

Part 1 is here.

Y/N sighs. Of course it had to be him.

“Where is he?” she asks Vesemir, not really trying to hide her reluctance.

“Probably in his room. I’ll take you there.” he offered. Y/N nods and follows Vesemir out of the library. They walked through the castle in silence while Y/N was trying to think of what to say to Lambert once she was there.

When they finally arrived, Vesemir knocked on old doors.

“What?” they heard him grumbling from the other side and then the doors opened. He slightly raised his eyebrows when he noticed Y/N.

“We need your help.” Vesemir said.

“’Course you do.” he said, suddenly sounding tired.

“Y/N is an oneiromancer.” Vesemir started but Lambert immediately realized where this conversation is going.

“No. I’m not letting her bewitch me!” he shook his head.

“I’m not going to ‘bewitch’ you.” Y/N couldn’t help but roll her eyes. She crosses arms on chests while stepping closer to him. Lambert instantly steps backwards.

“We are just going to have a quick nice chat about your last encounter with Geralt.”

“And that’s supposed to help us get him back? How?” he frowns, crossing his arms as well.

“So many questions.” Y/N sighs and passes by him, entering his room without his approval. Lambert was about to protest but Y/N was getting inpatient.

“I’m going to need a chair, right here” she points next to Lambert’s bed. “You’re going to lay down and drink this.” Y/N opens her leather bag and pulls out a small bottle of sleep potion.

“You can’t be serious. I’m not drinking that.” Lambert complains.

“Since you two have things figured out, I’m sure you don’t need me. I’ll see you both in the morning.” Vesemir quickly adds and before anyone could say anything, he leaves down the hall. Y/N looks at Lambert again, and throws a small bottle at him. He caches it but doesn’t even look at the bottle.

“I said I’m not drinking that. Are you deaf?”

“Listen, witcher.” Y/N is annoyed at this point but she keeps her voice steady and calm. “I’m trying to help you find YOUR friend. Are you really going to make this harder than it already is?” she crosses arms.

“It’s harder because you got involved, not because of me!” he raises his voice slightly. Y/N steps closer, getting into his personal space.

“If this doesn’t work, I’m out. Okay? You’re on your own.” Y/N tried to sound patient, but Lambert could still sense the annoyance in her voice. All of a sudden, he grins.

“Deal. If it doesn’t work right away, you and that ridiculous trumpeter are out. By the first rays of the sunlight.”

Y/N’s jaw slightly clenches. “Deal.” she agrees, not wanting to break the eye contact first. Lambert looks at her for couple of seconds longer and then suddenly turns around, grabs the chair next to him and effortlessly moves it next to his bed.

He opens the bottle that Y/N gave him and looks at its content. Dark green liquid didn’t exactly smell like honey and flowers but Y/N knew how powerful the potion was.

“Go on. Drink all of it.” Y/N says as she sat down. Lambert sits on the edge of his bed. He hesitates for a few moments before finally drinking the potion.

“Lovely.” he manages to speak before coughing a couple of times. Y/N grabs an empty bottle from his hand and leans back into her chair.

“Okay, now, lay down. I’ll explain how this works.”

Lambert doesn’t say anything but lays down and crosses arms on his chests.

“Relax. Firstly, we need to discuss the details of your bond with Geralt.”

“We are friends, brothers. There’s nothing to discuss there.” Lambert says shrugging his shoulders but Y/N could swear she heard a bit of discomfort in his voice. He wasn’t comfortable with sharing his feelings with her.

“Lambert, my ability works only if my clients are honest with me. Do not lie. Don’t keep the details from me. I need to know how strong is your bond. Try to flesh out feelings, emotions…Truth is essential in this.”

Y/N looks at him. At least he looks like he’s listening to her.

“So, what are you going to do once you see that dream of yours?”

“I won’t see anything. You will.”

“I don’t understand-”

“You will. Now, please, I need the strongest, most complete memory you have of Geralt.”

Lambert hesitates. This wasn’t what he expected when he agreed to do this. After a couple of seconds, he decides to share the memory of their first shared hunt - the one where they killed Chort, who came out of the dark forest while they were still tracking him. The Chort was a beast; large male who was protecting his territory and clearly didn’t want them near, but Geralt and Lambert already got paid by the nearby villagers to get rid of the creature.

“Did he save your life?” Y/N asks. Lambert nods, looking at the dark ceiling. He could still remember the moment he thought he was dying. His stomach twisted just like it did that day.

“What else should I know?”

 It took a while for Y/N to gather information mostly because Lambert didn’t know how to express his feelings but Y/N didn’t rush him.

He’s a witcher after all, she’d remind herself.

By what she heard, they had a complicated relationship and often disagreed but they did respect each other and had a strong bond.

“Alright now, relax, close your eyes. And try to fall asleep. Empty your mind.” she said, and with one quick flick of hand she increased the flames in the small fireplace. The room got warmer almost immediately.

Lambert’s face relaxed after a couple of minutes. Y/N stayed quiet. This was the most vital part. He was supposed to feel like he fell asleep but keeping him in the state between deep sleep and consciousness was Y/N’s job. Sometimes it took a while, so remaining attentive was essential.

She focused, took a slow, steady breath and looked at Lambert. His brows furrowed and his jaw slightly clenched. Then suddenly she felt a soft ‘click’ inside her mind.

Y/N did it! The dream was there. Now, she had to wait. And hope the main dream doesn’t mix with the rest. Sometimes, she couldn’t do anything about it. The sleeper’s mind just went too far off. But, for some reason, she knew that won’t happen now.

After what seemed like forever, Lambert slowly opened his eyes. Although he just woken up, he looked tired. Y/N gave him a minute to sit up and gather his thoughts.

“So?”

“It worked.”

Lambert didn’t waste time explaining. He got up, grabbed his swords and rest of the equipment, and left the room. Y/N followed.

“What did you see?”

“Vesemir will know what to do. Come on.” he hurried her, taking sharp left turn on the main corridor.

“It’s the middle of night!” Y/N reminded him.

“I’m certain he won’t mind.” Lambert said and stopped himself in front of the last door in dim corridor. He grabbed the knob and, without knocking first, pushed the doors and let himself in.

Vesemir, who was sitting next to the window, on an old wooden chair, immediately stood up.

“I know where he is.” Lambert said.

Vesemir’s lips slightly parted. He didn’t even attempt to hide his surprise.

“Kaer Seren.” Lambert said calmly but Y/N immediately heard there was something else behind those words. Vesemir started pacing around the room, mummering occasional swear words for himself.

“You know that place?” Y/N asked, realizing that the answer was obvious but she wanted to be included.

Lambert looks at Vesemir for the explanation. The older witcher doesn’t say anything but approaches the small wooden box that laid on his nightstand and opens it. He reaches inside and Y/N immediately realises he’s holding the letters they got from Geralt’s abductors.

“You see, Y/N, the person who did this, chose that place for a reason.” he says, handling the letter to Y/N. She approaches and slowly takes them from his unsteady hands.

“Kear Seren, or Caer y Seren, if you prefer Elder, used to belong to witcher school of the Griffin. Through decades, the Griffins gathered a massive collection of books about magic in their library. Council of Mages did not like this - mostly because the Griffins refused to share their knowledge. So, naturally, when they got their chance, mages destroyed the castle and its residents. The school never recovered. They are, of course, a few of its members left, but they don’t have a home to return to once the winter hits.”

“That’s…awfully depressing, actually.” Y/N admits, glancing at the letters in her hands.

“But that…That is supposed to be a lesson for us.” Vesemir says with a hint of warning in his voice.” For Geralt.”

Y/N’s throat tightens. “Are you suggesting that the Mages did this to-”

“I am not suggesting anything just yet.” he interrupts her.

Vesemir knew how this whole situation looked like.

Lambert turns to Y/N. “If this was your kind-”

“My kind is not me. I’m helping you and your friend. Do not forget that, witcher!” Y/N warns him, slightly raising her voice. Lambert’s jaw tightens and he slowly starts to walk towards Y/N. “That won’t make much difference to me if it turns out they hold him captive.”

Y/N felt the rage ignite inside her. She starts marching in Lambert’s direction, lifting her arm up to summon the spell. “You arrogant fuck, how dare- “

“Alright, that’s enough!” Vesemir stands between them, raising hands to stop them both from coming any closer. “Let’s talk about this in the morning. Everyone is tired and there’s nothing we can do in the middle of the night.” he says calmly. Neither Lambert or Y/N say anything. They both still stare at each other over Vesemir’s shoulder.

“Come, Y/N. I’ll show you your room.” Vesemir adds. Y/N hesitates for a moment, but decides to join him in peace and quiet. They leave the room without another word, leaving Lambert behind. Y/N notices just now that she was tightly griping the letters in her hand.

They walk for a while down the dark corridor, Y/N’s realizing her heart was still beating quickly from the rage she felt back there.

When they finally reached the guest room, exhaustion and weariness suddenly overcome her. It seemed like her conversation with Jaskier from this morning was weeks ago.

“I’m sorry for what Lambert said back there. We are all quite tense since we received those letters.” Vesemir says, discomfort written all over his face.

“No offense, Vesemir, but I really don’t want to talk about him right now. I really need some rest.” Y/N says honestly. Vesemir nods.

“Of course. Get some sleep. We will talk in the morning.”

Find me.

*****

Y/N sits up in her bed, covered in sweat and breathing heavily. For a few seconds, she’s not sure where she is. At first, she thought it was the castle from her dreams.

Y/N wipes away the sweat from her forehead and takes a long breath to steady herself.

That dream kept repeating itself all over again for a while now but this time it felt more tense, like she was running out of time. But why?

As soon as she looked around the dark cold room, she realized this is still Kaer Morhen.

Y/N takes another glance around the room and then slowly gets up to dress herself. It was barely morning – the sun was shyly peaking behind the snowy mountains. She wraps her winter cloak around her tired body – is seemed that this castle was cold no matter the season.

Suddenly she hears a light knock on the doors.

Her dream is going to have to wait again.

Y/N opens the door. It was Jaskier.

“You’re awake, good. If you’re already packed, we can go right away. Vesemir and the others are almost ready to go.” he says, entering the room and walking around. Y/N raises eyebrows.

“Go where?”

“To Kaer Seren, of course!” he says tensely rubbing palms together. “To find Geralt.”

“Jaskier.” Y/N starts, but stops because she wasn’t sure what to say to her friend. He raises eyebrows waiting for her response.

“I’m not sure if that’s a good idea.” she says, remembering her fight with Lambert from the last night.

“What? To save him?” Jaskier asks, crossing arms on his chests.

“I’m not saying that!” Y/N answers immediately. “But it might be better if they all go without me.” she speaks softly, feeling the anxiety in her voice. Her friend frowns but doesn’t say anything right away.

“They? You know I’m going as well, right? I know he isn’t your friend. Not even someone you know well. But I do. He’s one of my closest friends, Y/N. I can’t just sit here and wait for someone else to save him. I just can’t. So please” he approaches her slowly. “Do this for me. I’ll own you. I’ll even pay you.” he adds.

Y/N shakes her head. She felt horrible now.

“Jaskier, this has nothing to do you with the money. Or favours.”

“Then what else do you want me to offer you?” Jaskier asks, his voice almost cracking from his pleads.

Y/N takes a long breath and looks away.

“What did Vesemir tell you exactly?” she asks after a few seconds.

“That Geralt is held at Kaer Seren and that we need to go.” Jaskier answers, slowly losing his patience with Y/N.

“Jaskier. His captors might be someone who relies on Chaos.” she finally says.” Someone just like me.”

Jaskier opens his mouth to speak but stops himself. Y/N could almost see his thought process all over his face.

“Y/N, Vesemir wouldn’t-”

“But Lambert would.”

“You’re helping us. You’re on our side!” Jaskier exclaims.

Suddenly, the door of her room opens fully and they both turn around. Redheaded witcher crosses his arms and leans shoulder against the doorframe.

“But when the time comes, would you kill your own brothers and sisters for one pitiful witcher?”

Neither Jaskier nor Y/N say anything.

“That’s what I thought. And that’s why she’s not coming with us.” Lambert says, his eyes pierced on Y/N. She stares back, trying to hide her discomfort.

“Eavesdropper. And in matter of fact, I am.” she responds. Jaskier looks at her, not trying to hide his surprise.

“You are?” he asks quietly.

“Yes, I am.” she says, still looking at Lambert. He scowls, slightly shaking his head. Y/N doesn’t say anything. She didn’t know why she agreed to this.

She was aware this was dangerous for her. Lambert was right. Would she be able to kill a sorceress or a mage that was standing on their way?

But now it was too late. She agreed to come. She let him provoke her again. And this time, it was more serious.

“Alright. But let’s clear up some things, witch.” Lambert slowly walks towards her, until he’s just a couple of centimetres away from her face.

“If I, just a for second, doubt your intentions” he glances over her entire face. Y/N doesn’t move.

He’s standing too close.

“You’re done.” he says quietly. Y/N clenches her jaw but doesn’t lower her eyes.

“Get out of my sight, witcher.” she barely uttered the words. She wasn’t even sure if she spoke them louder than a whisper.

“Gladly.” he instantly responds and pulls back, leaving the room without another glance at her. And just like that, he was gone.

Y/N finally takes a breath. She wasn’t even aware she was holding it in until he was gone.

“Woah.” Jaskier says quietly, glancing towards the door as if he was expecting Lambert to come back.

“What?” Y/N asks.

“He really-”

“Hates me for no reason?” Y/N interrupts him. Jaskier slightly tilts his head, still looking towards the door as if he’s waiting for Lambert to come back.

“No, I don’t think that’s hate.”

Y/N raises eyebrows at her friend. “Is this witcher’s way of showing fondness? If so, I’m not so sure I want to save your friend anymore.” Y/N says.

Jaskier grins. “Geralt is not that bad.” he says but his grin slowly fades away.

“Y/N, are you really going to help us find him?”

Y/N slowly nods. “I will.”

“What changed your mind?” he asks cautiously. Y/N shrugs her shoulder.

“I…I’m not really sure. But I’ll do my best to help you and your friend.” she admits. Jaskier looks at her for couple of seconds and then cleans his throat.

“Alright then, that’s good enough for me. We should be on our way then!” he says, sounding more enthusiastically this time. Y/N agrees, and turns around to look for her bag. There was no reason to wait, they should be on their way as soon as possible.

“Vesemir and the others are already in the main hall. We should join them.” Jaskier says, heading towards the doors.

Y/N grabs the bag from the wooden chair and heads towards her friend. Just as she was about leave the room, she notices those letters that Vesemir gave her sitting on table next to the door.

Y/N grabs them, not really sure why would she need them.

When they finally joined Vesemir and the other witchers in the main hall, the sun had just fully risen and the day was about to begin.

“Y/N we need your assistance again.” Vesemir says after they all formed a circle in the middle of hall. Y/N counted – there was 6 of them. Vesemir, Lambert and Coen were standing with bags over their shoulders while Ciri, the only female witcher Y/N ever met, was holding only her silver sword, nervously switching weight from one leg to another. Jaskier gave Ciri a warm, comforting look but the girl looked at Y/N. Y/N tried to smile but it felt forced. There was nothing comforting or cheerful in conversation they were about to have.

“How can I help?” Y/N asks, turning to Vesemir.

“We need a portal. To Kaer Seren.”

Lambert and Coen groaned. Ciri gave them a warning look.

“Babies.” she mutters, crossing her arms.

Y/N nervously swallows. She wasn’t particularly good at making portals. Being oneiromancer didn’t require creating them anyway. Especially not so far away from her current position.

Or for so many people at once.

“I’m…I’m not sure if that’s good idea.” she honestly tells Vesemir.

“Why not?” Jaskier asks.

“Firstly, I’m oneiromancer – we don’t use portals as our primary form of transportation. Secondly, traveling that far with so much people cannot be done without huge risk.”

“What are the risks?” Jaskier asks carefully.

“Are you joking, bard?” Lambert interjected. “I’m not risking shit.”

“Cowards!” Ciri is slowly losing her patience. She turns to Vesemir. “Let me do it, please!”

“Child, we talked about this.” he speaks softly with the girl, disregarding her infuriation. “We need intractable portals. Yours could be traced from other side of Continent.”

“I don’t think that’s possible for anyone else either. Portals of those proportions are just too noticeable.” Y/N answers.

“I say we ride. That’s the safest option.” Lambert suggests.

“Ride to Kaer Seren is almost week long! They will kill him before we even pass Caingorn!” Ciri groans.

“They won’t kill him.” Vesemir says calmly. Ciri tilts her head and raises her eyebrows.

“How can you be so sure about that?”

Everyone is looking at Vesemir now.

“Because he’s being held as a warning. Those letters…they wouldn’t send it unless they want something from us. Something in exchange for Geralt.”

“Or someone.” Y/N adds. Lambert looks at her.

“What do you mean?” Vesemir asks before Lambert had a chance to speak.

Y/N takes a long breath, stopping herself before saying something that could trigger a new argument.

She carefully formed her next words looking at Ciri.

“If they want someone - “

“She thinks we are holding someone in our cells that they might want back.” Lambert says, crossing arms on his chests. He didn’t sound intimidating this time.

This time, he sounded like he was…mocking her. Y/N’s lips parted but she didn’t know what to say.

Ciri and Coen raise eyebrows at Y/N.

“That’s not what I meant!” Y/N says, realizing how terrible that sounded.

“No? Enlighten us then.” he shrugs. Everyone is looking at her. Even Jaskier, who has never been this quiet since Y/N met him.

“I was thinking… they might want someone else, but couldn’t get to them. Someone like Ciri.” Y/N tells him, but looks over to Ciri. Whitehaired woman looked enraged.

“I don’t care! Just because you think they might want me, won’t stop me from saving Geralt. End of discussion.”

“Cirilla.” Vesemir warns her and the girl’s expression soften a bit. “Y/N might be right.”

“Are you seriously agreeing with her!?” Ciri exclaims, stepping forward.

“I do.” Vesemir responds calmly, but lifts his palm when Ciri was about to protest again. “But I still think you should come with us.” he adds. Ciri stays quiet for a second and then nods. She glances at Y/N with some sharpness in her expression but doesn’t say anything.

“So here is what I suggest we do.” Vesemir says when he realizes Ciri calmed down. “Y/N. You’re going to make a portal. But here’s the catch – you’re not taking us to Kaer Seren.” he adds.

“No?” Y/N asks, slightly nervous when portals are brought up again. One look at Lambert and Coen and Y/N figures they might be as well.

“You are going to take us halfway. To Hengfors.”

[eggcompany]

A Witcher's Tummy Ache

Geralt has a stomach ache and Jaskier helps.

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

Jaskier knows a lot about his Witcher. He’s been traveling on and off with him for almost five years. By now they find comfort in each other. They share beds happily, bathe together happily, and of course they love just being with each other.

However Jaskier still learns about him everyday. Today as they settle into a mediocre Inn, Geralt seems... off.

He seems to be favoring his stomach and he’s a bit grumpier than usual. Jaskier didn’t know if he was hurt or what so Jaskier asked.

“Geralt, what’s wrong with your stomach? Were you stabbed again and didn’t tell me? Did something happen?” Jaskier was sitting on the bed in his linen sleep pants watching Geralt dry off from his bath. He wasn’t facing Jaskier so he couldn’t see if there was a new wound or not.

“hurts” is all Jask heard come from the larger man.

“Hurts? You got hurt? When, dear? Who hurt you? What do you need me to do?” Jaskier was already standing up and walking over to look at Geralt’s wound. But when Geralt turned there was no wound but rather a slightly distended belly.

“Oh darling, you have a bellyache? Come, let me help.” Jaskier placed a hand on Geralt’s wrist. Geralt just hummed and followed the bard to the bed.

“Lay down with your back to my, yes good boy.” Jaskier said after he laid down in the middle of the bed. Geralt was heavy against his chest but it was nice. It was always nice to feel Geralt's solid meaty weight against him.

Jaskier put his hands on Geralt’s ribs.

“I’m gonna just massage your stomach okay? Is that okay dearest?” Jaskier said as he just rubbed small circles with his thumbs.

“Yeah it’s okay Jask. Be gentle please” Geralt said and tried to relax back onto the younger. His brothers used to just tell him to wait and not sleep on his stomach for a few days. It was always strange with Jaskier. Gentler and more... Well Geralt didn't know. He usually just makes it up to being Jaskier being raised by parents. Maybe this is how parents treat their children. Geralt really doesn't care.

Jaskier gently started to stress his hands over the scarred abdomen in front of him. He rubbed up and down and rubbed small circles. Geralt let out soft sighs and groans. Geralt spread his legs a bit and put his ankles on the outsides of Jaskier’s.

Jaskier worked his way from Geralt's sternum down to his hips rubbing and massaging over and over again for almost an hour.

Soon enough Geralt’s breaths slowed and when Jaskier looked at the Witcher’s face, yep. Geralt was asleep.

“I’m happy to help you Geralt. I love you.” Falling on deaf ears but still. Jaskier has to tell him.

[sassaffrassa]

ok i fuckin found this in my drafts so here goes, one and a half years late:

smubbles round up: wanksgiving (2022)

Iorveth/Vernon Roche

Pears (E, torture implements as sex toys) - “Don’t you trust me?”

Handlebars (E, facefucking) - What else are those big ears for?

Choke (E, strangulation, dubcon) - This is not how this is supposed to go. He’s not supposed to be here without backup, there weren’t supposed to be any fucking Squirrels, he’d thought he’d get some fucking privacy for once—

Tongue (T, body modification) - Hound, they say.

Like a Lady (E, crossdressing, dubcon) - Vernon Roche is supposed to be guarding his king up at the manor, not down with the smallfolk, which means—

Hold Still (E, predicament bondage) - give the fellow what he wants

Revolver (E, gunkink) - There’s a dustup down in one of Foltest’s warehouses, and Roche is the one to clean up after it. Then Iorveth finds him. The cad.

Foltest/Roche

Tied (M, bondage) - Vernon, dear, stop struggling.

Kiss (E, sex work) - Roche has been looking forward to this, but—

Fine Fabrics (E, semi-public sex) - A king’s self-control is never to be questioned

Geralt/Roche

Nice (E, 69ing) - Roche’s mouth is his nicest feature

Endure (M, flogging) - We open on the dungeons beneath La Valette castle

everyone else lol

Scalp (T, Geralt/Jaskier) - You know how a musician’s hands can be

Pinch (E, Yennefer/Jaskier) - He’s blind, deaf— utterly submerged under her.

Push (E, Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer) - Yennefer is listening for any real sign of pain

Breathe (T, Yennefer/Geralt) - He knows the taste of her tongue.

A Scholar’s Hands (E, Ciri/Luliana OFC) - Luliana is very good with her hands, and Ciri is helpless for it

Blood (T, Geralt/Eskel, vampiric healing) - Just bite, wolf, you need it.

Flame (M, Vilgefortz/Rience) - Vilgefortz breathes slowly, steadily, and does not let the fire burn him.

Crystal (T, Iorveth/Geralt) - caves are cathedrals

Indolence (E, Iorveth/Geralt/Yennefer) - Yennefer deserves dinner and a show

Wildflowers (T, Iorveth) - There were no flowers in antiquity - Louise Gluck's "Hyacinth"

High Noon Over Vergen (G, cowboy au) - Geralt is just trying to do his damn job.

To The Sunrise (M, Eskel) - Something is watching Eskel through the trees.

[life--is-not-daijoubu]

everyone always says that jaskier's singing is so shit they wish him to shut up forever or be deaf but like. wtf. the guy has the catchiest tunes in the continent what's wrong with y'all. as if you didn't cry at "burn" or sing along to "toss a coin to your witcher"

[bambirex]

pls tell me me about brokilon deaf angst I need the angst

The general idea is that Jaskier has been dealing with a condition for a while now that is causing him to slowly lose his hearing, which, obviously, as a musician, isn't a very nice outcome for him. He has been putting it aside because he wanted to focus on keeping Ciri and the rest of the fam safe. Geralt is recovering in Brokilon the same way it happened in canon, and Jaskier is by his side and caring for him, once again ignoring his own problems. His condition reaches its peak right as he's caring for Geralt at his bedside, and he loses his hearing. And then Geralt obviously blames himself for not noticing it, there's your typical mutual pining, Geralt being essentially paralyzed and still doing his best to find a cure for Jaskier, while Jaskier needs to learn how to continue caring for Geralt without being able to hear anything. And they both need to learn how to communicate their feelings towards each other with this giant obstacle in the way as well

[lassieposting]

Okay so that line with Jaskier and Lambert at the end of 2x08. Jaskier jokes, "Look at us, just a big old happy family, right?" and Lambert rather sharply retorts, "No," and limps past him with Ciri.

That seemed really sharp at first, and I thought it was just the writers and their thing where they handle Jask like nobody actually likes him despite him being one of the most likable characters, but then I was rewatching the ep and it occurred to me.

Lambert's just lost like, four family members.

We see Voleth!Ciri kill two Witchers, and then another two (three?) die in the final battle with the basilisks. Like, of course Lambert wouldn't be receptive to "happy family" comments. Some of his family are right there on the floor with their faces missing or their heads cut off. More are dead in their beds upstairs. Jaskier is Geralt's friend of 20 years, and the other Witchers have probably heard a lot about him from Geralt, but they've only known each other in person for a matter of days. A virtual stranger is no replacement for the family you just lost, and to Lambert it probably seemed like a really tasteless, tone-deaf comment to make, even though Jask didn't mean to wound.

So like. Understandable reaction, actually, yeah

[aifanfictions]

Path of Valor

Chapter 8: Jaskier's Misadventure

Their journey had been filled with moments of danger and triumph, but it seemed that trouble had a way of finding them, especially when Jaskier's big mouth was involved.

One sunny afternoon, the trio found themselves in a bustling market town, the streets lined with colorful stalls, merchants hawking their wares, and the lively hum of activity. Jaskier, always eager to embrace new experiences, decided to put his bardic talents to use and entertain the townsfolk.

With a gleeful flourish, he positioned himself in the town square, lute in hand, and began to strum a lively tune. His voice filled the air, and soon, a crowd had gathered, drawn by his music and charismatic presence.

The atmosphere was joyous as Jaskier sang songs of love, adventure, and merriment. (Y/N) and Geralt watched from the edge of the crowd, their expressions a mix of amusement and fond exasperation. Jaskier was in his element, his animated gestures and theatrical flair capturing the audience's attention.

However, as the day wore on, Jaskier's storytelling took a mischievous turn. He began to weave a tale of a legendary treasure hidden in the nearby woods, a treasure rumored to hold unimaginable riches. His words were laced with humor, and he assured the audience it was all in good fun.

Little did they know that his playful exaggerations would catch the ear of a group of unsavory characters lurking on the fringes of the crowd. These ruffians, hearing the promise of untold wealth, took Jaskier's words quite seriously.

As the bard concluded his performance with a dramatic flourish, the crowd cheered and applauded, and Jaskier basked in the adoration. But the moment was short-lived as a burly, menacing figure stepped forward, flanked by several other rough-looking individuals.

The leader, a scarred and grizzled man, pointed a finger at Jaskier and growled, "You there, bard! You're going to show us the way to this treasure you spoke of."

Jaskier, realizing the gravity of the situation, stammered, "Oh, you see, I was just telling a story, a fictional tale for entertainment. There's no actual treasure—"

But his words fell on deaf ears as the thugs closed in, their intent clear. They believed Jaskier was hiding the location of this imaginary treasure, and they were determined to get their hands on it.

(Y/N) and Geralt exchanged a glance, their instincts kicking in. They couldn't let Jaskier face these menacing individuals alone. With a shared nod, they stepped forward, positioning themselves protectively between Jaskier and the approaching thugs.

The leader of the group, unimpressed, sneered, "Stand aside, or things will get ugly."

Geralt, his voice dripping with warning, replied, "You're not getting anything from us. Jaskier's words were just a story, nothing more."

But the thugs were undeterred, and the situation escalated into a tense standoff. The crowd, sensing trouble, had dispersed, leaving the trio alone to face their adversaries.

With a sudden, aggressive lunge, one of the thugs attempted to grab Jaskier. But Geralt's reflexes were faster, and he intervened, striking the man down with a single, well-placed punch.

(Y/N) sprang into action as well, utilizing her agility and combat skills to fend off two more of the attackers. But the leader, though outnumbered, was formidable, and he engaged Geralt in a fierce, physical struggle.

As fists flew and blades were drawn, it became clear that the situation had turned dire. Jaskier, his initial shock giving way to determination, realized that he couldn't stand by while his friends were in danger.

With newfound bravery, he retrieved his lute, and, with trembling hands, struck a resounding chord. A shockwave of sound erupted, disorienting the remaining thugs and providing a momentary advantage for Geralt and (Y/N).

The leader, now off balance, was swiftly subdued by Geralt, and the last of the thugs were disarmed and incapacitated by (Y/N).

Panting and disheveled, Jaskier stood beside his friends, his lute still in hand. He offered an apologetic grin. "Well, it seems my storytelling got us into a bit of trouble."

Geralt, despite the chaos, managed a half-smile. "Your big mouth strikes again, Jaskier."

With the situation resolved, the trio decided to leave the market town, their encounter with the thugs serving as a reminder that trouble could find them anywhere. As they journeyed onward, Jaskier made a silent vow to think twice before spinning tales of imaginary treasures.

The bond between Geralt, (Y/N), and Jaskier had been tested once more, and they had emerged from the ordeal with a deeper understanding of the lengths they would go to protect each other.

Their path continued, each day bringing new challenges and adventures, and their unspoken connection remained a constant, a silent strength that bound them together in the face of whatever trials lay ahead.

NOTE! This story was generated by OpenAI

[echo-bleu]

I am late, but might I ask for "what you hear is not silence series: learning sign" :-)

Thank you! I am also late answering xD

Learning sign (very much a working title) is the second part of what you hear is not silence (Witcher) where Jaskier stays mute after the djinn encounter.

As the title implies, he meets some deaf and/or mute people and learns a sign language. He's still very much grieving the loss of his voice and his sudden change in circumstances, though, in this snippet:

There has been a lot of breaking down since Rinde. He’s fallen apart bit by bit, painstakingly put himself back together, only to fall part once more. It’s not a linear process. Some days have been better than others, but… most days have been shit, honestly. “It’s alright,” Essi murmurs over and over in his ear. “Go ahead and cry. You need it.” She cuddles with him, small and thin where Geralt is wide, and her slender fingers betray a lute player’s strength as they massage the tension out of his shoulders. Jaskier curls around the grief in his ribcage and lets his world narrow down to the safe space between her palms. Essi is a singer, too, and a good one. She understands exactly how he feels. Her compassion makes the bitter taste in his mouth turn bittersweet. She stays the night. In the morning, Jaskier puts himself back together again.

[thedemonofcat]

Jaskier is a changeling, including a deep connection to nature and its magic. However, what sets Jaskier apart is an extraordinary, almost unnatural strength. His physical power reaches such incredible levels that he can effortlessly lift Roach, even when Geralt is riding on her back.

Curiously, Jaskier remains oblivious to his true nature as a Fae being. The manifestations of his magical abilities only occur when he finds himself in situations where he feels threatened. It is during these moments that his latent powers surge forth, granting him access to his innate magic.

Following Nifflgaard's pursuit of Jaskier to extract information about Geralt and Ciri's whereabouts, the decision is made to bring Jaskier to Kaer Morhen for his safety. In line with the rule that everyone residing at Kaer Morhen must contribute, Jaskier finds himself obligated to participate in the training regimen, much to his annoyance. Despite his attempts to evade the training sessions, emphasizing his role as a bard and lover rather than a fighter, his pleas fall on deaf ears.

Eventually, Jaskier finds himself reluctantly preparing to spar with Eskel. Among Geralt's brothers, Eskel is the one whom Geralt trusts not to get carried away during the fight and inadvertently harm Jaskier.

At the onset of the spar, Jaskier's main objective is to evade Eskel's attacks, desperately searching for any means of avoiding the impending blows. However, Eskel's persistent prodding pushes Jaskier beyond his comfort zone, compelling him to gather his courage and fight back. Overwhelmed by panic, Jaskier inadvertently taps into his dormant magic, unleashing a surge of power.

In a sudden and unexpected turn of events, Jaskier's magic surges forth, propelling Eskel across the training ground and into the air. Realizing the potential danger, Jaskier instinctively conjures a bush to cushion Eskel's landing, using his nature-based magic to soften the Witcher's impact

Overwhelmed by the unexpected display of power, Jaskier spirals into a state of panic, convinced that he is some kind of monstrous entity. In his distress, he becomes consumed by the fear of being hunted down and killed by the people he has come to consider his friends. Desperate to escape this perceived danger, Jaskier attempts to flee, but his flight is halted by Geralt's firm grasp.

Geralt, understanding Jaskier's turmoil, intervenes to prevent any harm befalling his bewildered companion. He assures Jaskier that he has no intention of allowing any harm to come to him, emphasizing his commitment to protecting Jaskier at all costs. Once the others have ensured Eskel's well-being and tended to his injuries, Geralt leads Jaskier inside, seeking a more secure and private space to address the situation.

Inside, Vesemir takes the opportunity to chastise Geralt, expressing his frustration at the apparent lack of awareness Geralt had regarding Jaskier's true nature as a Fae. Vesemir remarks upon the extensive time he has spent imparting knowledge to the Witchers, highlighting their supposed intelligence and yet their failure to recognize Jaskier's heritage despite Geralt's years of companionship with him.

As Vesemir's words sink in, Geralt's mind begins to connect the dots regarding Jaskier's true identity. Certain peculiarities about Jaskier's interactions with nature start to make sense. Geralt recalls how birds would harmonize with Jaskier's melodies even when the bard merely hummed absentmindedly. It becomes clear that Jaskier's affinity with nature and the presence of magic within him are linked to his Fae heritage.

Still trembling with fear, Jaskier musters the courage to voice his concerns, questioning whether his Fae nature makes him inherently dangerous. In response, Vesemir assures Jaskier that his power does not make him a threat but rather reflects his lack of training. Recognizing the importance of keeping both Jaskier and those around him safe, it is decided that Jaskier should receive proper combat training. The goal is to harness and control his exceptional strength, ensuring it is wielded responsibly.

In addition to combat training, Jaskier finds himself joining Ciri in her magical lessons under the guidance of Yennefer. This allows him to explore and develop control over his magical abilities, granting him a better understanding of his nature-based magic and the means to channel it effectively.

[samswinchesters]

he looks so good as buggy. he also cosplays the game version of Jaskier from the Witcher. and Usopp. while we were at the same party, me and him were the only people who the cats would go up to and get in our laps without us picking them up. also, one of my mutuals introduced us, and then we happen to be in the same friend group like two years later, so we met again. I got blocked from going to the parking lot during a con by one piece photo shoot and I’m pretty sure he called out my name and tried to get my attention, but I am partially deaf and was also in a bad mood because of one of my friends being a jerk.

this guy is like the jack of all trades wtfff he has such a visionary mind. wow…like I know I keep saying your life is like a movie but it truly is like who is doing it like you ?? maybe this is destiny

[yennskier-feed-ao3]

[Podfic] Pinch

[Podfic] Pinch

by Chantress

He’s blind, deaf— utterly submerged under her.

Words: 26, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of yennefer rules this house and everything in it (Podfics)

Fandoms: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Categories: F/M

Characters: Jaskier | Dandelion, Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Relationships: Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg

Additional Tags: Sensory Deprivation, Pinching, Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes, Audio Format: MP3