#happy birthday jaskier

[elviehun]

now that '23 has finally kicked the bucket, we can talk about the really important thing:

HAPPY BIRTHDAY JOEY!

[perseruna]

happy one year anniversary to the biggest win in the history of television !!!!!!

[theartistcuriosityrocks]

Happy Birthday to the Gorgeous, Wonderful and so Talented Joey Batey!! 🥳🎁🎂😘😘😘

[thedemonofcat]

For the first time, Jaskier is with Geralt on his birthday. It’s also Jaskier's first birthday since he and Geralt went together.

Geralt wants to do something special for Jaskier but worries that Jaskier, who is likely used to lavish gifts, won’t like anything that Geralt can give him.

Jaskier doesn’t care about presents; he does, however want birthday Sex. So Jaskier is trying to get Geralt in bed

[statisticallymorelikely]

Happy birthday @ironpe!

Witcher au edit: Older Bard Chris Pine x Jaskier

Jaskier meets Older Bard Chris Pine in university, the other being a few years older and an absolute breath of fresh air among the drab scholars in academia and Jaskier naturally gravitates to him. He’s fun, flirty, charismatic and speaks so passionately about stories and love and beauty that fellow students would gather around him whenever he cared to share his musings.

He and Jaskier spend hours reading together in the library, silently penning poems on a piece of paper they pass back and forth, eyes shining with mirth, lips turned in smiles secretly shared. Jaskier has what he calls ‘the tiniest crush’ on him but what everyone else calls a ‘debilitating infatuation’. Some nights, Older Bard Chris Pine sneaks wine into Jaskier’s room and they pull the most beautiful melodies from thin air, drunk half on wine and half on the joy of creation, flushed with laughter, convinced of their own genius, skin tingling as they sit shoulder to shoulder.

Jaskier often imagines him whispering poetry into his ear while he fucks him into the bed. 

But alas, nothing further happens between them, Older Bard Chris Pine graduates and soon enough Jaskier does too. He stays for a while to attempt life in academia, gets bored out of his wits and sets off for adventure. He meets Geralt, gets into all sorts of trouble with him and creates his best songs. It’s a pleasant enough existence, seeing the world, traveling with his best friend he’s kind of in love with but who never even acknowledges their friendship, sleeping under the stars, grabbing inspiration from anywhere and everywhere. 

Most times, it’s enough to see Geralt’s sharp eyes watching him from across the campfire, something akin to longing in that gaze, but sometimes, he misses the touch that came with the easy camaraderie he had in school, elbows digging into his side, knees knocking together, fingers sliding clumsily against each other on the lute. He can’t hope for that from Geralt, not yet, maybe not ever, since the only time Geralt has ever touched him is to push him out of the way or to save his life.

Needless to say, Jaskier has some needs that aren’t being met. And that’s not even counting his desperation for something soft to sleep on. Witching jobs have been hard to come by lately so Jaskier has become very familiar with his bedroll and the cold hard ground. It’s this desperation that drives them into town one night, looking for shelter.

He hopes to get a room in the inn and pay for it with the money he earns singing. Geralt will be going to the alderman first thing in the morning to look for jobs but who knows if he’ll get paid at all. Unfortunately, there’s already a bard playing when they enter. Disappointing. Jaskier suggests they try a different inn but as they’re leaving, someone calls out his name. 

And of course, it’s none other than his crush from back at school, only he’s nearly silver now, a little more muscle, weathered by adventure yet somehow even more attractive than before. His eyes crinkle when he smiles and Jaskier’s knees threaten to buckle when he realizes that smile is all for him.

Jaskier tries very hard not to get hard when Older Bard Chris Pine pulls him in for a tight hug, big, warm hands sliding around his waist. He feels a flush creep up his cheeks but there’s a lingering unease at the back of his neck, waves and waves of anger pouring in from one direction. Jaskier looks back and Geralt looks absolutely murderous, more so than usual, but he doesn’t say anything, just glares. 

Jaskier pulls away, quickly introducing Geralt to his senior from Oxenfurt.

“So! You’re the muse, huh? The infamous White Wolf,” says Older Bard Chris Pine, cheerfully extending his hand. Jaskier has to admire his courage, not many people would shake hands with a Witcher, and a grumpy one at that. Jaskier tracks Geralt’s gaze to the arm casually slung around his waist and fights the urge to explain and placate. Geralt looks like he’s going to break Older Bard Chris Pine’s arm off, and that kind of possessive reaction stirs something hot in Jaskier’s chest, but if he really wanted to, Geralt would have already done it, so the hesitation dampens Jaskier’s hopes.

Jaskier is jostled from his thoughts when the hand on his waist tugs at him, focus drawn back to blue eyes. “What?”

“Oh, darling, you haven’t changed, have you? I was asking if you wanted to catch up. In fact, I insist on it. These fine folks can do without music for a night, right?” 

Jaskier opens his mouth, sees Geralt’s furious expression once more, closes his mouth for a moment before opening it again. “Of course! Nobody’d miss your scratchy strumming, anyway.”

A bright smile spreads on his old friend’s face. “Great! Dinner’s on me!” 

Surely, there’s no harm in agreeing to this.

Except his old friend seems to be doing everything he can to drive Jaskier insane. He parks himself next to Jaskier in a tight cramped table, pressing his thighs against his, looping an arm around his shoulder, leaning close to laugh so his breath tickles at Jaskier’s neck as he tells Geralt embarrassing stories of Jaskier at school. (Enough ale has passed through their table that Geralt’s loosened up slightly, and seriously, if you let him talk enough, Older Bard Chris Pine can charm the pants off anyone and now, Jaskier wants to claw his own eyes out because he’s suddenly imagining him with his pants off.) Jaskier is extremely aware of every point of contact, each of them sending pleasant buzzes across his nerves.

Then there’s also the way he looks at him, like Jaskier has always wanted in the past, the way he smiles so fondly at him, gaze holding something hot behind those blue, blue eyes, drawing him in and holding him captive. When he absently licks his lips to chase some ale, Jaskier’s eyes flick down and he has to fight the urge to lean forward and taste him himself. Gods, every single embarrassing daydream he’s ever had is all coming back to him and it’s all too much.

He needs some air.

So, he excuses himself to get some, reassures Geralt with a look and steps out into the cold night so he can gather himself together. He stays in the alley next to the inn to brood and untangle his mess of feelings because what is going on? It’s frustrating how hot and bothered he is. It’s like he’s gone back in time to the pathetic besotted student he used to be. He blames Geralt and his missions because he hasn’t had a decent wank in a while, they’ve been so busy.

Normally, if he likes someone he just goes for it (barring his thing with Geralt, of course, that matters too much to be handled casually), a predator in his own right, but now, he feels like prey. Maybe it’s just him regressing to his younger self. He used to know next to nothing about the world and about pleasure but now, he’s more experienced and confident but one smile and all that goes flying out his head. Maybe he's just horny and wants to get taken care of once in a while. Maybe it’s because his friend actually wants him, unlike someone else in his life.

He's so close to a realization when he's knocked out of his own thoughts by a rumbling laugh next to his ear. Older Bard Chris Pine is leaning right next to him, and Jaskier wills himself not to startle.

“Where’s Geralt?”

“I offered him a room with a bath, and he took me up on it.”

“Oh.” That answers that question then, Jaskier thinks. Maybe he should stop feeling guilty about this if Geralt isn't going to care in the first place.

“Y’know, it’s been wonderful catching up with you, Jaskier. Really made me remember the good old times, our afternoons huddled together in the library, or nights in your room.” Older Bard Chris Pine murmurs softly enough that Jaskier has to lean closer to hear him. “I still remember the pretty picture you painted, sunlight in your hair, and pink lips curled around your pen.”

He runs his fingers gently against Jaskier’s fringe, down his cheeks, thumb running against his bottom lip and Jaskier sighs. He’s had enough.

He fists a hand into Older Bard Chris Pine’s coat and reels him into a kiss. It’s hot and heavy and when Older Bard Chris Pine slips his tongue in his mouth, his brain finally gives up. He had every intention of being aggressive and redeeming his pathetic demeanor all night, but then Older Bard Chris Pine is pressing him into the wall and his knees go weak.

Jaskier scrambles, fisting his hands in his friend’s hair as he starts to suck on a soft spot on Jaskier’s neck, right over his pulse. They’re pressed so close, chest to chest, thigh to thigh but he wants more, wants to get impossibly closer. This is everything he used to dream of and by gods, he’s going to get justice for his younger self! Older Bard Chris Pine shifts and slots a thigh between Jaskier’s legs and he doesn’t have enough willpower not to rut into it.

“Fuck...”

And then the rumbling laugh is back in his ear. “Be glad to.”

They fall into bed in a separate room from Geralt’s and Older Bard Chris Pine takes care of him gloriously, taking him apart with his mouth and his fingers and his cock. Jaskier gets to have his old fantasy come true. He gets fucked into the bed with poetry in his ear and it’s much, much better than he ever dreamed because it’s poetry about him, and if this is what worship feels like then no wonder the gods get drunk on it. 

They fuck for hours and by the end, Jaskier is thoroughly owned and marked, all covered in bruises and love bites and his hole is so sensitive he’s thankful Geralt won’t let him ride on Roach. He’s sticky with sweat, sated and exhausted, and falls asleep in a warm embrace

In the morning, he wakes up to Older Bard Chris Pine half dressed and getting ready to set off. But when he sees Jaskier awake, he stops his packing to go crawl up the bed again and kiss him senseless.

“I have to go, my party’s leaving by noon,” he says, genuine regret in his voice. 

Jaskier is a little sad but he never expected anything different anyway. He knows this was a one night affair and he’s glad he had it. For younger Jaskier’s sake. Maybe his present self too.

But there’s still a few hours before noon and he bets Geralt has already gone to see the alderman for a job. There's no sense in wasting this time overthinking, so he seduces Older Bard Chris Pine for one last tumble in the sheets and gets enough orgasms to last him a few more cold months with his hand.

Before he finally leaves though, Older Bard Chris Pine looks Jaskier over in all his debauched glory and grins widely, pleased at his own handiwork. Jaskier can just imagine what he looks like, hair all over the place, love bites scattered all over his body, lips bitten red. 

“Yes, that’s gorgeous. You’re gorgeous.” He runs his thumb against one particularly violent bruise right in Jaskier’s pulse point in his neck. “This one. You can’t cover this one up.”

His grin widens, smug. “Your muse is going to be furious.”

And with that he swans off and leaves Jaskier to wonder what he meant by that and how he knew because Geralt was indeed furious.

[itsmellslikeinfidelity]

The Witcher Netflix is a mess but at least we got bi Jaskier 😭

[whatspastisprologue-blr]

Here, in Pacific Standard Time, it's officially January 1st, which means it's happy birthday to Joey Batey!

I finally started watching The Witcher about a year ago (as in, probably 1 year ago next week) and was almost definitely listening to TAD by February, though I don't recall when exactly, so January itself is basically going to be my "anniversary of listening to TAD" month.

Just want to add my voice to all the birthday wishes out there. I've never before listened to a singer/band where it's like there's a "before I heard this" and an "after I listened". I never knew what it was like to have a song/singer/band change your life.

But then I found out that the fantasy TV bard is actually a bard in real life and decided to go find this fairly obscure indie band from about halfway around the world's music and... I can still remember that drive to get Chinese food for my Dad and I for dinner.

It's been a tradition for a long time that when Mom is gone for the night, like if she's out of town, I go to pick up dinner for the two of us and then we eat while watching murder mysteries (often, Shakespeare & Hathaway, ironically, though I don't recall if we happened to watch Joey's episode the same evening).

So, I'm getting in the car and I figure, why not listen to a few songs on the way? I had no idea, none, what I was getting into. I didn't know that driving in the car to pick up dinner was probably not the preferred listening experience when hearing TAD for the first time. The most intense I'd heard Joey get while singing was Burn, Butcher, Burn.

And I'm pretty sure the first song that came on was The Old Witch Sleep And The Good Man Grace.

I think it was, because I was so confused about what the actual fuck was I listening to, and overwhelmed by what the actual fuck was I listening to, and wow, Joey just goes off like that normally, doesn't he? I think I was actually a bit intimidated/scared.

I'm almost fairly certain that the next song I heard, as I was approaching the restaurant and parking, was That Unwanted Animal. I'm fairly certain because I know it was the first time I ever heard Madeleine sing and I remember the "priest that you ignored" really hit me hard. (I was so unprepared for Madeleine; at least I'd heard Joey before via The Witcher, but holy shit, Madeleine and her Fae force of nature voice.... I think the first thing I thought of upon hearing her voice was actually that terrified/awed/scared-and-horny moment from Witcher S2, after Yennefer kicks that one dude in the balls, and Jaskier was like, "She's so scary!" In that moment, listening to That Unwanted Animal and hearing Madeleine's voice for the first time, I was Jaskier and she was Yennefer.)

I tried to listen to Farewell Wanderlust when I was doing dishes one evening but quickly realized that listening to that song while doing dishes was not the preferred listening experience I switched to Secret Worlds, which was better.

All that to say, a year later, I still remember the first 4 songs from TAD I ever heard. And I haven't been the same sense.

I went to the ER one evening in March because my cat got a claw stuck in a curtain, then flipped out and bit me when I got him free, and laying there at about 3AM, I quietly sang "Not Yet/Love Run (Reprise)" to myself.

Over the summer, when my Mom and I had an argument and she went off alone to have some space, I gave her space for a while and then I heard Madeleine, in my head, singing, "I know the kindest thing is to never leave you alone." So I went out to see if she needed company and she did.

Songs like Farewell Wanderlust, The Calling, and Drinking Song have helped me feel seen, and helped me express myself. I really struggle to let myself cry but Chords hits me in such a raw, painful place that when I know I need to cry, I play Chords as a cheat to get myself to cry. I intend to tell my therapist to listen to TAD, or at least some of their songs, to express where I'm at.

So, I know a lot of this has to do with TAD in general, and Madeleine, but I also mean all of this as appreciation for Joey. I understand he's the main songwriter and, of course, one of the two lead singers. I just wanted to share how he, through TAD in particular and with Madeleine, has made such a positive impact on my life, just in a year.

This weird, strange, bizarre, surely-he-can't-be-real, funny, goofy dude who's incredibly talented and intelligent and a horrible baker who drops "that's what she said" jokes into a love song but also came up with "let foul men band and heed your hum, for that ancient hymn you heard me strum, is naught but fumble-falls and guns and tumbleweeds, love run. It's naught that rum won't solve, though some would harm you, none, not one, no one would raise to you a hand or thumb, not while by you, I stand and hum". He has a preoccupation with hair, especially his own, did the Dear Hearts Drive video with the alpacas, and said Jaskier's clan animal would be a penguin. He's like chaos personified. He seems so sincerely sweet and kind but is also just this total wild card where you don't know what he'll say or do next.

So, happy birthday to this half-feral Fae from the depths of some forest or wood or bog from Northern England who occasionally emerges to grace us with another dose of therapy in musical form, or make us laugh with some terrible joke, or give us more feelings about gender, or make us all look not-so-respectfully at our TV screens because he's only buttoned his shirt halfway again (again).

[potofsoup]

Guyz I’ve been soooo blocked on creative stuff (I blame working too much and also somehow psyching myself out of writing over the summer), but I’m trying to make some progress, and I promised myself that I’d finish at least 1 fic this winter break, so here’s me, sliding in at the last minute.

Oh, it’s a Witcher fic about Geralt and Jaskier swapping clothes for funzies.  ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

[sariastrategos]

Eskel hauled the deer over his shoulder and made his way back to the keep. It was still early in the afternoon but he had a lot to prepare before dinner if everything was going to go according to plan.

And so help him if Lambert decided to fuck around with the plan by being a dick he was going kill him. Legitimately just rip the rest of his hair off.

Fortunately for Lambert he’d played nice for a change. If you considered “nice” nearly blowing up a still and decorating the hall with the most colourful rags he could find. He’d been given liqour and decor duty despite the bard’s protests and he seemed to have taken to the task with a little more zeal than anticipated. Still, it wasn’t bad.

“Eskel! Come try this brew, think I’m on to something!” Lambert greeted him, pouring a shot without waiting for the answer.

“I’ll be the judge of that” he replied, knocking the cup back. “Lambert what the fuck did you put in this?” He coughed.

“Some kitchen spices.”

“Why?”

“Why not? Think it adds some kick! Not my fault you’re a little bitch.” He grinned, pouring a second glass for them both.

Eskel took the refilled glass and drank it properly this time. Against his better judgement it actually wasn’t horrible. “Kind of tastes like medicine…”

“The sinus clearing kind?”

“The pour me another kind” he said handing his cup back.

“Yeah I’ll pour up later, you’re dripping deer all over the floor. The floor I just cleaned.” Woops “Get outta here and go make us some dinner. Old man is in the kitchen already.” He said, waving him off and finding a rag.

Eskel continued from the hall to the kitchen, slamming the deer onto the table. Vesemir looked up from his work.

“Sizeable beast, should do the job nicely” He commented, chopping up vegetables for a roast. “Better get to work cleaning it.”

“I will, could use a fuckin regular drink after whatever Lambert’s calling his latest creation first” he replied, pouring himself some ale before removing his gloves and getting to work.

It took hours to completely break down the deer and get it stored. Vesemir commandeered the cuts he needed and shooed him out so he could get himself cleaned up before dinner.

Eskel detoured through the hall and swiped a bottle of Lambert’s liqour. He hated to admit it but it was pretty good, strong, unique. Lambert actually might have been on to something after all.

He crept passed Jaskier’s room, Geralt throwing him a desperate look before the bard regained his attention. He’d been given the unenviable yet extremely important task of keeping Jaskier out of the way. Specifically out of Lambert’s way. They didn’t need another stabbing because the bard had “just a few creative suggestions”.

He’d offered to help Jaskier choose an outfit for that evening. Looked like that had evolved into Jaskier helping him find an outfit as well. Eskel shot him a grateful look and got away without Jaskier noticing him.

Soon enough he’d gotten cleaned up, changed and made his way down to the main hall again. Their guest was about to arrive and dinner smelled like it was on the table.

Reentering the hall he was greeted by the sight of full cups (they’d never survive the night), a full table (a good base for the drinking at least) and an exhausted, well dressed Geralt. Lambert looked like he’d had a change as well and found the dress he’d “borrowed” from Yen. Vesemir had donned his hat and cleaned up, placing a dish of roasted parsnips on the table.

Lastly he frowned at the banner that had been hung across the fireplace;

Happy birthday bitch! Janice!

Lambert could say goodbye to the rest of his hair.

@janzoo happy birthday bitch, I hope you enjoy it!!

[catscraftsandcommentary]

So I had some time to think tonight at work (in between operating heavy machinery, swearing at the materials, and trying to keep the line running, fun times!) And I asked myself, "self, hypothetically, what might @inexplicifics Accidental Warlord AU look like in another generation or two - once people really get used to witchers being The Good Guys (TM) and helping out?"

And I was like "well, they'd probably get invited to social events - ooh! Who'd like which events best?!? What would that look like?"

Geralt, as we all know, detests anything too formal or Warlord-focused. He enjoys weddings and receptions, but his TRUE favorite is baby christenings. Seriously. Put him in a room with a tiny baby and he's happy as a clam. He'll happily growl away (or weaponize his puppy-dog eyes against) grannies, aunties, and other family members to hold the baby for as long as possible. He's also 90% of the reason that witchers are now rumored to be able to bless babies.

When Mouse and Treyse bring this new rumor to the council, everyone has to just sit. And process for a minute. Because what the ever-loving fuck?!? (Jaskier immediately writes the sweetest lullaby ever, "A Witcher's Blessing", and it is the ONLY song that Geralt ever sings in public, and only ever to babies and small children. Multiple women blame this for their immediate conceptions.)

Jaskier adores weddings and festivals of all types, and if a happy couple includes details of how they met and/or fell in love with their wedding invitation, there's at least a 50% chance that he'll show up to the wedding with a personalized love song, holy shit.

Ciri loves tourneys. Loves watching them, loves displaying in them, loves sneaking into competing in them (omg, heir, NO), loves WINNING them. She's a menace. She has various stealth coats of arms that she rotates between when she's not supposed to be competing, but her favorite is the battle goose. Obviously.

Eskel doesn't like crowds or being the center of attention, which are almost inevitable with public invitations, but he does enjoy being the +1 for his family. Several of his and their interests overlap, and even where they don't, he likes to see them enjoying themselves.

Yennifer becomes well-known as an extremely efficient - albeit terrifying - treaty negotiator. She'll talk to both sides, get a list of their must haves, deal-breakers, would-likes, and don't-wants (as well as - perhaps more importantly - the reason why each of those are on that particular list). Then she draws up a draft and viciously negotiates a compromise. She is genuinely surprised the first time that both sides thank her for her help.

Vesemir, with all his long years of teaching, loves visiting schools and seeing any sort of student performance or sporting event. Kindergarten to university, drama to music to dance recitals to track and field meets to football games to student symposiums to science contests to... He buys out bake sales and funds club field trips and donates several fortunes worth of antique knick knacks to various schools. He's invited as a guest lecturer, a commencement speaker, a competition judge, a referee.

Lambert and Aiden, at some point, discover bachelor's parties, call dibs, and never look back. People learn very quickly not to invite witchers to their stag nights unless they want the entire party to get horrifyingly drunk - but at least Lam and Aiden will make sure that everyone makes it home (or to the wedding) safely. Perhaps not soberly, or sans hangover, but definitely without major injury. (And if the bride asks nicely and the groom and friends weren't total jerks, Lambert can usually be counted on to make a hangover cure. He really is a softie at heart.)

Dragonfly and Serrit get tapped for the odd bachelorette party or ladies' birthday parties. Anything that falls under "I want to be able to drink and party with my friends without worrying about some strange guy hurting one of us." They are extremely protective and have both been drunkenly proposed to several times. (Livi finds this terribly amusing. Gweld just wants to know if he can watch.) Milena and Zofia sometimes go with them.

Milena loves going to wedding showers and baby showers, but outside Kaer Morhen, she has to stay in sight of Lambert or one of his brothers. Lambert's rule. (She got KIDNAPPED, okay? He's allowed to worry!) Usually she'll take Geralt (there might be babies! He's excellent protection!) or Eskel (he's very quiet and has excellent manners, and his signs are impossible to fight) for the more, ah, female-heavy events. If anyone asks, they're her brother-in-law and genuinely like spending time around kids. And very, very married.

[bluedillylee]

Happy birthday to Yennefer and Ciri 🎂🎉🥳

Jaskier has a somewhat shaky grasp on what’s appropriate for a birthday surprise being shared with a child but hey, he made Yennefer laugh so it’s a win for him. Lambert who actually baked the cake is ready to kill him though- good luck Jaskier 

I like to imagine that Geralt doesn’t realize that other people aren’t in fact overcome with lust at the sight of Jaskier being silly and half-dressed so he’s a bit overzealous in making sure Ciri doesn’t see anything  

[ID: Jaskier jumps out of a giant cake wearing lingerie. Geralt blushes and covers ciri’s eyes and Yennefer is doubled over laughing. She asks if Jaskier is wearing her bra between guffaws. Coen is horrified that Jaskier ruined the cake and Lambert grabs his dagger prepared to stab Jaskier to avenge the cake. End ID]

[samstree]

Jaskier is easy to please.

It’s a surprise finding, Geralt thinks to himself. At least, it goes against everything he knows about Jaskier.

He’s born noble, spoiled and doted on by a loving family for eighteen years. He has the best education, one that gives him endless titles as a master of the arts and a position at the best university. He wears fine silk, dines with lords and ladies, and sings for kings and queens.

And yet, Jaskier’s eyes always light up when Geralt prepares a simple meal at the side of the road as if a chunk of rye bread is anything finer than what Lettenhove can provide for him. He always leaves the lecture halls of Oxenfurt at the first thaw of spring to catch Geralt’s early contract of the year. He delights in the most mundane days on the path and colors them bright with his songs.

“I wonder how many are as lucky as me. How many souls under the sky,” Jaskier says one night, lying on top of a thin bedroll, under a sky full of stars. “To have found what pleases them, and get to keep it.”

“The stars?” Geralt mumbles sleepily. The day has been long and he’s too tired for Jaskier’s bouts of musing. “You don’t get to keep them, Jask.”

“No, you oaf. It’s…” Jaskier trails off, huffing a smile against Geralt’s shoulder. “Never mind. Sleep for now. You won’t understand today.”

“Yes, sleep.”

“Sleep, and you just might tomorrow.”

Jaskier snores through the night on the ground. He wakes up at the first light of dawn, eyes bleary and hair mussed. He wakes up to Geralt, lying next to him and calling his name gently. A soft smile overtakes his face, their limbs still tangling.

☆  

Geralt just might understand.

Or he starts to, when he pays attention to those things that please Jaskier.

He makes a pair of gloves over the winter with leather and fur in his stash. The plain materials are nothing to be boasted, and his sewing is far from the best. Compared to Jaskier’s doublets and coats, lined with jewels and silver thread, these may as well be two lumps of rags, but somehow, Geralt knows deep in his heart that Jaskier will squeal with joy when he sees them on his birthday.

The sureness settles over his chest, spreading until it unfurls his toes like warm mead on a rainy day. He wonders how long this unnamed confidence has been with him but finds no answer. It seems his life is so full of Jaskier, that there are no traces of what came before his bright-colored existence.

On Jaskier’s birthday, the squeal ends up hurting Geralt’s sensitive ears, but the tight hug that lifts him off the ground makes it all worth it. The gloves never leave the bard’s person even in the worst of the summer days and are proudly shown off to every friend they meet on the road.

And then, Geralt learns ballroom dancing from Essi so he may invite Jaskier to a first dance after the bardic competition. Geralt practices and practices, but when the day comes and Jaskier is all close and eager, all the complicated sequences are forgotten like foams on the sea. The world narrows down to the way Jaskier leans into his embrace and those surprised laughs when Geralt steps on his toes. The first dance turns into a second, a third, and then a fourth. Before Geralt knows it, the music has ended. Jaskier keeps holding on in the silence, his chin resting on Geralt’s shoulder, his scent sweet and happy.

☆  

“So, you are Julian’s witcher.”

An unfamiliar figure appears next to Geralt as the night comes to an end. Jaskier has gone to collect the award from his placement, but there’s no need for an introduction. Golden hair, fancy jewels, sharp eyes—it must be Valdo Marx.

“If I am?”

“Ha!” The other bard nurses his drink. “You’d need my warning, witcher. That one, Julian, is hard to please.”

Geralt could laugh if he didn’t hold too much disdain for the man.

“Don’t believe me? You’ll see. I once filled his room with roses and lilies, composed him full cycles of fine music, but all I got was rejection after rejection. I’d give him all the flowers in the world, all the songs and poetry. But no, none of it was ever good enough for Julian. Our dear Julian, who needs the world and more.”

“Hmm.”

Strange. Jaskier has never needed a world of flowers and poetry.

A bluebell is enough to make Jaskier blush when Geralt picks it from a wild field and puts it in his hand. A simple letter is enough to lift his spirit when solitude weighs down his shoulders while Geralt is away.

The flower will be pinned behind Jaskier’s ear for the rest of the day, and the letter will be read so many times the edges are worn out by the time they finally reunite. One particular songbook in the Jaskier’s pack holds tiny wildflowers and old letters on every other page. That book is growing thick over the years, bursting with little souvenirs of their time together and apart.

Valdo Marx is long gone when Geralt realizes how far his thoughts have wandered. The dance floor is empty. All the bards have left. All except for one.

“Geralt?” Jaskier appears before him, searching, curious. “Goodness, I called your name four times. What’s got you thinking so hard?”

Geralt blinks.

“You.”

“Me? What about—oh!”

Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and pulls him into a kiss.

It’s desperate and messy, done without so much as a thought. All Geralt knows is that he should kiss Jaskier. All the world could end right now and he should be kissing Jaskier. Their breaths quicken as their bodies press closer. Jaskier lets out a surprised gasp as Geralt opens him up eagerly, teasing him with every swipe of tongue, every quiet moan. He kisses the corner of Jaskier’s mouth at the end before meeting his gaze.

“Wow,” Jaskier breathes, voice hoarse and eyes hazy. He clears his throat. “Wow, Geralt, that was…”

Geralt holds onto the small of Jaskier’s back, practically keeping him upright with how unsteady his legs have become. He can’t help but preen, letting a grin tug at his lips. “That was…?”

“Oh, just…” Jaskier’s cheeks have gone pink. It’s adorable in the candlelight. He lets out a string of giggles, hiding his face in his hands and pressing his forehead to Geralt’s shoulder. “You’ve kissed me, and now I feel like the happiest man on earth,” he mumbles into Geralt’s shirt. “So forgive me if I need a moment. Just a moment to let it all sink in, is all.”

Geralt kisses Jaskier’s hair and feels him suck in another shaky breath. “You are too easy to please,” he chuckles.

When Jaskier finds enough strength to stand on his own and pulls away, his eyes are full of wonder. They are full of Geralt. “Well, of course. It’s you.”

With Jaskier here in his arms, Geralt understands now. He is what pleases Jaskier, and he is lucky. Too lucky, perhaps. To be dear to this loud bard who smiles like a fool at the sight of him is a privilege Geralt would not deserve even if he lived ten lives over. He isn’t sure what to do with this fact yet.

So he answers. “Yes, it’s me.” He makes a promise. “I’m right here.”

Geralt leans in for another kiss, nuzzling Jaskier’s nose, but a finger halts him by the lips.

“You see, if you kissed me in such quick succession,” Jaskier says, swallowing, his eyelashes casting long shadows, “I may burst with joy right this moment. So have mercy on me, will you? Let’s just stay here. Just stay, and remember.”

Under Jaskier’s palm, a witcher’s slow heart flutters at the next beat.

Geralt takes Jaskier’s hand and remembers the moment. He remembers the moment when all the world’s luck is held within their palms, intertwining between their linked fingers.

☆  

It turns out, Geralt is easy to please too.

All it takes is a simple tune under Jaskier’s breath, a slow ballad, full of love and contentment, a private performance for one. It’s such a small thing, such a small joy when they are in the snowy mountains at the top of the world.

Geralt sinks into the big armchair in Kaer Morhen’s library, listening as the last note fades. His eyes flutter shut, tugged heavy by sleep and the burning fireplace. Jaskier put his lute down by the wall and settles on Geralt’s lap, tucking Geralt’s head into the crook of his neck.

“Is my new song putting you to sleep?” Jaskier asks. “Do you not like it?”

Geralt shakes his head, melting under Jaskier’s weight and attention. “Like the song fine. It’s just you.” He lets out a long exhale, his heart slowing. “Want to sleep when I’m safe.”

“Oh.”

Gentle fingers run across Geralt’s eyebrows, and he almost drifts off right there. “We should go to bed,” so he says.

“I’ll join you in a bit.”

Jaskier scrambles away, and the lack of his warmth makes Geralt grumble.

Jaskier huffs, taking Geralt’s hands to pull him up. “Just a few minutes. I have some tidying up to do.”

The world is blurry around the edges and the last line of Jaskier’s song keeps playing in Geralt’s mind. He mumbles an answer, his legs heavy. The bed that belongs to the two of them calls for Geralt with the promise of a mountain of blankets and furs to burrow under.

“Hold on.” Jaskier’s hand is on Geralt’s elbow. “The night is dangerous. Take this with you.”

He turns Geralt around to press a chaste kiss to his cheek.

With his eyes barely open, Geralt winds Kaer Morhen’s halls until the darkness gives way to the warm glow of their bedroom, where the fireplace is lit and his lungs are filled with the clean soap on Jaskier’s clothes.

Geralt returns to bed safely, with a small kiss to guard him.

It turns out, he is easy to please when it’s Jaskier.

It’s as natural as breathing, like these small things, small joys, small kisses. And they are all it takes.

[theartistcuriosityrocks]

The Joey Batey Birthday Portrait 2023!!

Wishing Joey a very Happy Birthday with Loads of Love and Cuddles from me 🥳🎁🎂😘😘😘😘😘

[shy-urban-hobbit]

Modern au - Vesemir royally screws up by driving Aiden away.

“Aiden.”

“I’m sorry Lambert. Please believe me I am so fucking sorry, but I can’t keep on like this and I’m not going to be the boyfriend who makes you choose between me or your family.”

“So your making the choice for me. Real fucking nice.”

Aiden gave him a sad, teary smile as he threw his duffel bag into the trunk of his beat up, third hand car, “Your family’s everything to you, Pup. Look me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t regret cutting ties with any of them.”

“You’re family too!”

“It’s been made pretty clear time and again that I’m not and never will be as far as certain people are concerned. I love you Lambert, but there’s only so many times I can take being made to feel like some lowlife criminal every time I interact with your dad.”

Lambert felt his tongue stick to the roof of his mouth when he realised that he couldn’t even argue that. As he had when he and Lambert had first started dating, Aiden had been upfront about the shit he’d been involved with when he was younger and new to trying to fend for himself after ageing out of the system when the conversation at their first meeting had turned towards questions about his family and childhood. Ever since, Vesemir had taken every opportunity to weaponise it against the younger man - despite the fact that Aiden’s life could very well have been that of any of his own sons had fate played out differently. Lambert, Geralt and Eskel had been some of the lucky ones in the Care Kid Lottery. Aiden, not so much.

Every time, Lambert had asked him to give Vesemir another chance, promising it would be different this time (it had taken him awhile to warm up to Jaskier too, and he was a god damn ray of sunshine) and every time, Vesemir had made him a liar.

Aiden moved his arms awkwardly, looking like he was trying to decide if going in for a hug would be a wise idea until a couple of tears finally fell. He wiped them away hastily as he stepped back, opening the driver’s side door, “Goodbye, Lambert. I wish you every happiness.”

Lambert could only stand and stare as his every happiness drove away down the dirt track.

He heard the front door creak open followed by multiple pairs of footsteps, because of course they couldn’t even let him get his heart stomped on in private – they’d probably all had their noses pressed to the kitchen window. Jaskier was stood shoulder to shoulder with Geralt, looking like he was making a huge effort not to start crying himself while his brother was grim faced. Eskel strode towards him, giving him the same heartbroken look as he had when Lambert was newly seven and had casually informed them he’d never gotten birthday presents before.

“Shit, Lambert.”

He went to pull him into a hug which Lambert immediately ducked away from, “Don’t Esk. Just...fucking don’t .” He pleaded, voice breaking as he stomped back towards the house, jabbing a finger at Vesemir with a snarl as he did so. The old man had yet to react to anything that had just transpired, despite being the cause.

“I am never going to forgive you for this.”

Vesemir sat hunched over in his customary chair by the fireside, elbows resting on his knees as he stared into the tumbler of vodka he’d been nursing as his little granddaughter, Ciri, busied herself making popcorn garlands at the table. It had been over a month and he’d yet to hear anything directly from Lambert no matter how many times he tried to call or how many texts he sent, with any necessary replies being sent to him through either one of his brothers or Jaskier.

He turned when he heard someone clearing their throat pointedly.

Speak of the devil.

Jaskier stood slightly awkwardly, eyes darting between the man and the girl, “Ciri, why don’t you go see how your uncle and dad are doing untangling those lights?” It was flimsy at best but Ciri didn’t seem to notice as she darted off, too caught up in the excitement of Christmas preparations.

Vesemir held the bottle out to Jaskier in a silent offering as he took the chair opposite, “He said he’ll come, but only for Ciri.”

Vesemir sighed through his nose. That was about what he’d expected, “How is he?”

Jaskier bit his lip, “No change really. He still misses him and I...”

Vesemir raised a bushy eyebrow expectantly as he waited for Jaskier to carry on.

“I don’t think that’s going to stop any time soon.”

Vesemir shook his head, “Why does that boy have to be so stubborn? I tried my damn hardest to stop them all from heading down that path and then he goes and throws himself head first.”

“Sir?”

Vesemir downed the rest of his drink, “Do you know how many people see those in the system as easy targets for criminal activity? They purposefully prey on kids who are lonely, desperate for acceptance.”

“Kids like Aiden?”

Vesemir looked up sharply, Jaskier looked for all the world like he hadn’t intended for that to slip out. He took a deep breath before continuing, “With respect, while I think it’s incredibly sweet you’re still looking out for them, Lambert’s a grown man now and Aiden’s had no issues with the law for the last decade or so.”

“That still doesn’t mean he’s good enough for my son!”

Jaskier held up a finger as he started tapping away on his phone, “I remember you thinking the same about me at one point.”

“And what made me change my mind about you?”

“I think the fact that I wasn’t Yennefer turned things in my favour in the end. I don’t know if it’ll change anything but, perhaps you should look at this. Please.”

Lambert took the proffered phone. It was a candid picture of Aiden and Lambert, sometime late in the summer from the looks of it. They were stood in each others arms, smiling softly and looking absolutely besotted, their heads so close together their foreheads were touching and seemingly oblivious to everything else happening around them. Was this how they’d been when he wasn’t around?Vesemir felt his chest clench as he recognised the look in the picture, it was one that had passed between himself and Luka too many times to count before...

Good God, what had he done?

Vesemir knocked smartly on the black painted door for the third time. The apartment building was nicer than he’d expected and he instantly felt shame at his assumption that Aiden would be living in some rat infested hovel. He heard the click of a lock and inwardly winced at the sight that greeted him. Aiden eyes were sunken and puffy, as if he’d been crying himself to sleep before falling victim to insomnia, his clothes were dishevelled and Vesemir found himself wondering when the last time was he’d eaten a proper meal. Nevertheless, he drew his shoulders back and met Vesemir’s eye, even if he did have a death grip on the door knob.

“Jaskier gave me your address. Can we please talk?”

Christmas Eve came around far too quickly as far as Lambert was concerned. He couldn’t deny he was looking forward to seeing his niece and brothers but the thought of long periods of time with Vesemir right now was already mentally exhausting him. He grit his teeth as he threw the last of his things into his overnight bag, it would be fine. It was just two days, and if he needed a distraction God knew Geralt wouldn’t be able to assemble and find correct batteries for all of Ciri’s new toys single handed. It was just two days. He could do this.

Lambert sent up a prayer of thanks that Vesemir wasn’t there when he arrived in the late afternoon, Geralt informing him that he’d just gone out to grab some last minute things and had instructed them to make a start on preparing dinner.

Dark had well and truly fallen, the food was almost ready and Geralt was half threatening Ciri, Jaskier and Eskel with coal in their stockings if they sang ‘grandma got run over by a reindeer ‘ one more time (Lambert might have been partly responsible for that and had zero regrets) when the tell tale beams of car headlights flashed through the kitchen window followed by Vesemir elbowing his way through the door, a neatly wrapped present under each arm.

“Seriously dad?” Geralt sighed, “Ciri’s going to be getting enough from Santa tomorrow without you adding to it.”

“Why should Santa get to spoil my granddaughter? Lambert, there’s one more back in the car. Run and grab it please.”

Lambert rolled his eyes but conceded at Geralt’s ‘Don’t start’ look.

“Happy Christmas, Pup.”

The smallest breath of wind could’ve knocked him over at that moment. Aiden was leaning against the side of the car, arms crossed as he smiled shakily at Lambert, “Vesemir came to see me and we talked. Really talked. He apologised and promised I’m welcome here from now on. If you want me here, that is.”

Lambert all but ran to him before sweeping him up in his arms and into a desperate kiss which Aiden eagerly returned, clinging to him.

“I missed you so fucking much.”

“I missed you too, you have no idea how happy I am right now. Mainly because Vesemir was my ride so, kinda would have made for a very awkward Christmas if you’d said no.”

Lambert yanked Aiden’s hood down over his eyes with a laugh, “Dork.”

Jaskier had let out a whoop of delight when Lambert led Aiden into the house, followed by Lambert and Vesemir sharing a brief bear hug in silent apology and the start of forgiveness and when they weren’t eating, Aiden’s hand was firmly wrapped in his.It was perfect.

“Aiden?” Ciri piped up from opposite him, all wide eyed innocence, “Do you know grandma got run over by a reindeer?”

Aiden quickly took in the smothered laugh from Eskel, Geralt’s eyes turned heavenward, and flashed Lambert that impish grin he loved so much, “You know Ciri, I’m not sure I do. Remind me, how does it go?”

[sparrowsparadise]

NEW JOEY BATEY/JASKIER CONTENT????? ON MY BIRTHDAY?????? HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME!!!!!!!

[slumberingcorpse]

Witchers don’t celebrate birthdays. They are often too old and most of them don’t even remember their birthday but Jaskier takes birthdays extremely seriously. Jaskier randomly claims a day of the year as Geralt’s birthday and on that day he wakes Geralt up with a special happy birthday song just for him. For the whole day, he pays for whatever Geralt wants from the village market, buys him all the food he wants, and even gets him a small cake. After a while, Geralt just accepts it and in some ways, when looks forward to his birthday. However, Jaskier doesn’t stop with Geralt, he does the same with all the other wolf witchers. Eskel appreciates the gesture but refuses to let Jaskier buy things for him. Lambert on the other hand sees this as his chance to see how many expensive items he can ask for before the bard snaps. Vesemir is more amused if anything and instead has a drink with the bard making him listen to all his witcher tales