#how the fuck are we tagging ciri

[kaleidemaran]

i just think ciri should get to see her fucking mom

[artistsfuneral]

part 18

"What really happened to me?" Geralt asks, his voice so deliberately neutral it makes Jaskier sick. Black dots dance across his field of vision. It's getting harder to breathe.

"You asked me to do it. And I didn't want to, of course I didn't want to,” he gasps, “but you told me you'd be fine- You promised- Geralt, you promi-” Jaskier's head falls to the side and hits the ground.

You see, the bard muses, the funny thing about time traveling is that it is very similar to passing out. Jumping through time is as easy as falling unconscious – you don't really have to think about it to do so and the more often it happens the better you get at not hitting your head. The catch though – because even if you're not literally caught there's always a catch, isn't it – is that no matter how many times it happens to you, waking up is always incredibly disorienting. So Jaskier can't really be blamed when he wakes up with his head in Geralt's lap and for a moment thinks that everything is alright again, that they're on the Path, camping somewhere out in the woods waiting for Ciri to join them.

Reality has never been that forgiving, so when the familiar wooziness leaves him it takes Jaskier's wishes and dreams with it. He gratefully accepts the waterskin that Geralt hands him after helping him sit up again and drains it in one go, before solemnly apologizing for passing out on the witcher mid conversation. Geralt doesn't say much at first, but Jaskier can see that there's a lot on the witcher's mind.

The silence between them is uncomfortably heavy and Jaskier can't stand it. Just as he's about to open his mouth Geralt finds his voice again. “It was blood magic.”

Their eyes meet. Geralt's golden orbs dark, almost angry and Jaskier's blue full of surprise. He remembered more. “It was a trap,” Jaskier fills the space in Geralt's thoughts. “The sorcerer was already dead, but Ciri wanted us to look for an artifact she needed. We- We thought it was safe. Good riddance, the place was already dusted over!”

“It made us careless,” Geralt adds, looking lost in his thoughts.

“It was my fault,” Jaskier says, full of anger. “I activated the curse, because I wasn't paying attention, but you-” His eyes met Geralt's again and he shook of anger and despair. “You told me not to worry! You told me you knew what you were doing, that I just had to trust you! And I did, I bloody fucking did because the walls were caving in around us and I was so fucking scared we wouldn't make it this time and I thought I would be fine with it, I thought if I died by your side it would be alright, but I just couldn't stop thinking about Ciri, about Yennefer, about your brothers, our family waiting for us to come home just to be frightened more and more every day we didn't show and I-” He gasps, ringing for breath as his body continues to shake uncontrollably.

“I stabbed you, Geralt. I put a knife through your chest, because you promised me it'd be fine. And I believed you, because you are the love of my life and I trust you to keep us safe.”

remember to like and reblog if you voted :)

Only two more parts 👀

Sooooo for the next story I was thinking you will have to navigate Jaskier through the wilderness to find Kaer Morhen? Eat the berries, Jaskier, it will be fiiiine, Jaskier. (possibly with someone in tow? Ciri, or Aiden? Or maybe a witcher turned into a child? 🤔🤔)

tell me if you (don't) want to be tagged :)

(x) @fingons-rad-harp @sinfulpetgirlrd @wren-of-the-woods @basilikum7 @eveljerome @this-is-not-a-slow-burn @araglas1989 @alaskawho @cinary @swan--writes @mirrorthoughts @chaoticfandomthot @sonatabee @gregre369 @awitcheress @yaskefer @hannibard @myfeelisfunny @kore888 @filledepluie @pathsofpassion @joyfulcherryblossombasement @ryuuhana91 @toapoet @nerdymuffinbonkcloud @ineffably-a-fangirl-99 @starlghtstarbrite @siriusly-the-best-bi @cowboybuttconnoisseur @logastellus21 @chasinggeese @whump-der-it-is @inanoldhousewrites @reluctantbroodingdads @professorjaskier @ourbooksuniverse @life-as-a-gamergirl

[sophfandoms53]

Okay time to get sappy a week after the finale LMAOO

As always, The Tag is my favorite part of the season and if we get good feeds along with it? A feast. And a majority of this season was like that, and I shall highlight some of my favorite memories from throughout the season and the tag that I will always be thinking about in years to come

- This is the funniest one for me, but us being locked out of the tag during reilly’s eviction and how we discovered that just minutes before the episode started, but that didn’t stop us from live blogging anyway LMAOO.

- And then they had the AUDACITY to announce the pressure cooker was finally coming back the following week and we couldn’t even properly celebrate together so we were all just screaming into the void😭 (or the nether region lol)

- That random vegan person who dropped the season bc Felicia asked for real butter lmao??

- Omg that chipmunk account we all thought was ohthecleverness and y’all called it the squeakuel and i think this person vanished from the tag

- GOING BACK TO THE PRESSURE COOKER, THE FEEDS THAT NIGHT??? Immaculate.

- It was magic to watch that in real time with each other. The shock we were in that the hgs broke an hour and then come to find out they almost broke the original record by mere MINUTES.

- The panic every time someone we liked dropped. The collective “CORY NO”’s live rent free to me.

- Us STRESSING so badly when Cameron wouldn’t let go and then America threw it to him😭 truly was magic tho

- Watching Cory go from someone the tag tolerated to being the IT boy of the season and the tag, iconic, that speech and debate boy had those hgs clawing walls

- Cory shutting down any misogynistic or problematic comment from anyone (the 21 turned 22 year old being the most responsible person this season should be studied)

- Corswhores that’s it LMAOO

- Cory suffering from the second juror curse

- America truly being one of us

- Cirie a queen to watch live

-omg that time Cirie said “I ain’t never played with people this stupid before.” SHE WAS AHEAD OF HER TIME

-Izzy deserved sm better from the edit, you could not escape this girl on the feeds

-The episode edits sucking for a vast majority of the season and for the houseguests (i swear i’ve never seen a season’s edit and its feeds be completely different from each other before how tf did that happen)

- Our collective hatred for the multiverse twist

- FUCKING BOWIE JANE

- Everything about Felicia really, the FBJ remix, her and Mr B (smooches), even tho she was pawned all summer watching her game was so fun

- HISAM ROBBED KING BUT HE SAVED US FROM THE REILLY CULT

- Us being split just like the house during the Izzy flip (we managed to stay more civil than twitter ever did, as we should)

- AND HOW COULD I FORGET THE JARED AND CORY FIGHT IN THE HAVE NOT ROOM???

- Two hours of Jared forcing everyone to go in circles, Cory reaching his limit, Jag coming in, Cirie coming in, Bowie just sitting there

-“Who the fuck is for real for real???”

- This exchange kills me everytime idk why

Cory: You also told me seven deadly sins was fake.

Jared: Who THE FUCK told you that???

Cory: YOU DID.

Jared: You wanna know why I told you that?

- Jared’s “YOU must’ve misunderstood.” about Matt, and then Cory’s immediate “WHOA, WHOA, NO.” Lives rent free

- “Jared, you have been yelling for forty minutes.”

- That gif of Cirie face palming as she listened to her son completely obliterate their games

- Cory’s face palm image

- This happening on a hot dog bed

- Mecole, America, and Blue all getting ready downstairs while this was transpiring upstairs LMAO

- I can literally quote and go on about this fight for hours, and im so mad i cant go back and watch the unedited version anymore (UPDATE SOMEONE UPLOADED IT ON YOUTUBE LETS GO)

- Y’all remember that assignment i did about this fight? Not only did i get a perfect score but i also got a bonus point and my prof wrote a note that i was so descriptive he wanted to watch LMAO

- The post season being less chaotic than the actual season is such a funny ending

-everyone joining cameo???

- And lastly, How did your game change for, I’m gonna say the better, when you joined the Mafia with Matt and I :D

Alright all of that highlighted, despite the chaos and the exhaustion of this 100 day season (BB gods never do this to us again oh my god) it’s been such a pleasure to open up the tag and read my morning newspaper the last three months LMAOO.

This has been the most active I’ve been in the tag thus far and with a season this all over place, it was a trip. But, truthfully, I’d do it again. You guys always make all the nonsense worth it because despite the different sides we’ve been on all season, we know this show is a train wreck and that our real enemy is always production 😭

Thank you guys again for such a lovely community these past few months, and we shall be back in few weeks tragically 🥲🫡💙

[beth--b]

All Fall Down

Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon

Prompt: Exhaustion

Tags: Exhaustion, jaskier whump, post season 2, post relationship but also pre relationship

Word count: 1355

Chapters: 1/1

Completed: yes

Summary: After the fight with Deathless Mother Jaskier is exhausted but ignores his own needs until he can't ignore them anymore.

Link: read it on ao3 here

@jaskierwhumpweek

Jaskier felt like he could sleep for a fucking year.

He had never been so utterly exhausted, so thoroughly wrung out in his life.

The sleepless nights helping elves as the Sandpiper, the fucking torture, going to prison, and let's not forget the Deathless Mother and Ciri's possession. The terrible loss of so many Witchers from a place that should have been safe, from their home.

Yet, he knew he could not rest, not yet.

There was work to be done and he needed to pull his weight. The Keep had already been half ruined even before hell had been unleashed upon them, now the main hall of the Keep was almost destroyed.

So he pushed aside the way his limbs felt so heavy he could hardly hold himself up, the way his eyes burned even when closed, and set about helping wherever he could.

He found himself helping Lambert move broken furniture, helping Coen collect medallions from the fallen witchers. He found himself on hands and knees scrubbing blood from the floor. Until finally, he found himself face to face with a Cintran Princess, turned Witcher trainee who was looking as though she would burst into tears at the slightest provocation.

" Ciri?" Jaskier asked after a few moments silence, "Ciri are you alright? Actually, of course you aren't. Stupid question to ask you at a time like this. I know there is no way that you could possibly be alright my dear, but is there anything I can do to help you?"

Ciri looked down at her hands, twisting her fingers together in what must have been a nervous habit. Finally she seemed to steel herself and faced him once more.

"Could you sing for me?"

Jaskier gave the girl a tired smile and nodded.

"Of course. How about we head to your room and I'll sing you a song or two to help you sleep?"

"Thank you, I'm not sure I can sleep after…well, after all that, but thank you."

She led Jaskier further into the keep until she opened a door to a small, freezing cold room.

Jaskier looked appalled at the freezing room and shook his head in mute horror.

"This is your room?" he finally asked, the words hard to get out from sheer disbelief.

Ciri just nodded.

"Right, we are going to find GeraIt." 

Jaskier set off back towards the hall where he had last seen Geralt. By the time they found him, Jaskier was feeling his exhaustion deep within his very bones, his vision beginning to go hazy around the edges. But he was determined that Ciri would not spend another night in that freezing closet of a room.

"Geralt we need to talk about Ciri's sleeping arrangements," the bard said, coming to a stop before the white haired witcher.

"Not really the time Jaskier," Geralt replied as he hefted more broken stones into his arms to be moved to a pile with other rubble and debris from the fight.

Jaskier followed Geralt, determined to help Ciri in any way he could.

"No Geralt, that girl has been through enough, please do not tell me you think her room is acceptable?"

Geralt sighed and turned to face Jaskier knowing the bard wouldn't let this go if he didn't. 

"Ciri is sleeping where all trainee Witcher's have stayed, Jaskier. It's what she wanted."

Jaskier ran a hand down his face, his exhaustion forgotten momentarily in exasperation. 

"My dear, she may wish to be a Witcher now but she was a princess up until recently. A very fucking traumatised one at that. The poor child needs a room that is not half filled with snow. How she hasn't fucking frozen to death I don't even know. Now tell me where she can sleep?"

Geralt looked guilty for a moment as though he realised he should have done better. He simply nodded once then turned on his heel and left the room, Jaskier and Ciri following.

Jaskier wasn't really aware as he followed Geralt down various passageways, lost in exhaustion he only came back to himself when Geralt stopped to open a door to a bedroom. 

The room was cold, because of course it was, but the windows were intact and there was a small hearth. Geralt set about lighting a fire while Jaskier helped Ciri into the small bed, the girl looked ready to fall asleep on her feet.

Once Ciri was settled Jaskier tucked her in and promised her a song the next day. 

Ciri nodded sleepily, murmured a thank you and closed her eyes.

With Ciri as good as asleep, both men left the room quietly.

Back out in the hall Jaskier's own lack of sleep caught up with him, the bard stumbling as he tried to set off back down the hall.

Strong arms caught him around the waist, stopping him from falling face first to the stone floor.

"Jaskier, you alright?" GeraIt's voice rumbled in his ear.

Jaskier tried to answer but he couldn't seem to find the words, his ears were ringing and his vision had gone fuzzy. He faintly registered Geralt's startled cry of 'fuck' before everything went dark.

When Jaskier woke he was not in the room he had commandeered when he arrived at Kaer Morhen. No, this room felt far more lived in. He was covered in warm furs, there was a fire crackling in the small hearth and there were a few personal items around the room, a few books and some very familiar swords hanging on the wall. He was in Geralt's room.

Just as he reached this conclusion the Witcher in question opened the door. He had a tray in his arms with what appeared to be a mug of tea and a bowl of porridge.

"Geralt? What happened?"

Instead of answering, Geralt just sat the tray on the bed within easy reach of the bard then moved to sit in front of the fire.

He watched in silence as Jaskier drank his tea and ate his breakfast. When Jaskier was done Geralt retrieved the tray, placing it near the door before coming to sit beside Jaskier on the bed.

"What happened is that you pushed yourself so far past your limits that you passed out. You were out for the rest of the day and night," Geralt paused as though he was debating whether or not to say something more. Finally he seemed to reach a decision, reaching out for the bard's hand and giving it a light squeeze. "You scared the shit out of me Jask, please don't do that again."

"Sorry my dear, there had just been so much going on…it's been a long few days. Months really if I'm honest. Smuggling elves, torture and prison followed by a crazy night of possession and monsters really takes it out of a man," Jaskier explained, fighting back a yawn despite the apparently long sleep he had just woken on.

"Wait, torture and smuggling elves? What the fuck?"

Jaskier looked at Geralt in confusion, "Didn't Yennefer tell you I was in Oxenfurt?"

"Yes but she just said you were in trouble, I found you in a prison cell Jaskier and assumed that was the trouble."

"Ah well that makes me feel a little better actually. I did think you might have wanted to know about what happened with the whole torture thing but you never asked and quite frankly I didn't want to think about it," Jaskier looked at their still joined hands and tried not to think about his time with the fire mage, barely suppressing a shudder.

"I won't push but you can talk to me when you're ready. I know I fucked up after the dragon hunt but I don't want to lose you again."

"Thank you Geralt, maybe not now but soon. Now I'm still tired and you look wrecked. Will you join me for a little while?"

Geralt nodded and climbed under the covers, wrapping his arms around the bard. They had a lot to talk about but for now they would just enjoy being in each other's company once more.

[dhwty-writes]

The problem is that even posting screenshots of Roche/Ciri on my blog only causes people to be negative. I thought I would find like-minded people, but I turned out to be just garbage in tags.

Man, anon, I gotta tell you, that does suck. No-one likes people being negative, especially not on their own posts of things they enjoy. However, I do have a couple of questions:

What kind of screenshots are we talking about? Interactions of them in-game? Or textposts or art?

If it is the latter, how did you come by them? Not that I want to accuse you of stealing, but given your general behaviour so far, I would not put it past you.

Regarding your next point, I do get how it can be disheartened by the fanworks you find, but hey, garbage is not a nice way to talk about the things your fellow fans took time to create! I certainly hope you did not tell them that to their faces or else I might even understand the negativity you see reflected.

In general I find that very few people are being rude unprompted. And your behaviour, as I have observed it in the fandom and in my inbox, is rather unpleasant so I would not be surprised if that comes to bite you in the ass.

And since I already brought up my inbox:

Hey! This is really fucking rude! I already told you that I am not interested in your ship, so do not, under any fucking circumstances, send me prompts. I do not know one of these characters, am not interested in getting to know them and any further attempts to shove this under my nose will just result in you getting blocked. AGAIN!

Lastly, I just want to reiterate what i already said last time: if all the fanworks that your find are "garbage", that seems like a skill issue to me. I think your time and energy would be much better spent creating some fanworks of your own that you like! (Also, since you already told rebrandedbard about it, I would be deadly curious to see those fanworks you made that other people called garbage that you mentioned once. I'm sure they're great! That being said, keep your ship out of my inbox.)

[santaclaushohoho1]

writing blog 4 you little bitch:

i got a lot of worldbuilding and basic plotting done in my head. motivations, archetypes, names, landscapes, architecture, races, culture, and images are swimming around in my head. most have been written down

tomorrow i am hoping to draw a map and start expanding on races and cultures in my notebook. writing draws ever closer. the cultures will probably change as i move on through the story, as i am sure the (college (subtle brag 😎 (shut up xxprogamerxx)) anthropology class i am taking will give me so many ideas i want to include.

george r.r. martin, stephen king, and andrzej sapkowski are providing a large amount of inspiration but it is not a crossover fan fiction where Jon Snow fucks Geralt and a mother, mother, daughter, son, and weird fucking uncle relationship forms between yennefer, sussanah, ciri, jake, and eddie (i listed them in their respective roles).

this is entirely original

i swear

i plan for the map to be super detailed and i would like to start tonight but i am wiped out so instead i am going to watch the click in bed, sleep, and start on it in the morning

if i dont wake up early enough to do mapping before i start school i will work on basic plotting and maybe design a couple languages

some will be ancient and out of use, but somehow still relevant to important things (fucking latin) and others will be used regularly, though most humanoids will speak my version of common

i also have 12 religions to create

this will be a lot of fun, and considering how much of my time i spend thinking about this stuff, i am hopeful i finish quickly

i ALSO developed a schedule that i will do for writing when the time comes around. my goal is 95,000 words, and i have mathed it out so that if i can write 3,750 words a week (not that much, 750 words, 5 days a week or 536ish words a day) then it will be completed in in less than six months. this is doable and also gives me a LOT of wiggle room, both to get extremely ahead of schedule (if i get really into it) or really behind schedule (if i can only bring myself to write 500 a day for a week, i have another 2 days to write that extra 1250) (for context, this is over 400 words, so i will need to write less than 2 of these a day, this only took me maybe 20 minutes but that's including going over a couple times with my eyes and with Grammarly to fix any spelling mistakes and grammar errors (as well as adding tags and this side note, we are more like at 547 in this whole thing, including the tags), i will not be doing that on my rough draft because that shit is supposed to be rough and editing it will kill my motivation so hard)

i got my shit together raccoon!!! woohoo!!!

[procrastinatingsoicanreadfanfics]

Witchers + stressed singlemom!reader

Summary: The reader is a very stressed and anxious single mom, and the witchers comfort her after a long day

Beginning Notes: Decided to do small drabbles for each of the witchers and added Geralt just because. First work in this fandom, so feedback is much appreciated. The reader, kids and witchers are in Kaer Morhen for the winter because Nilfgaard is making most of the continent too unsafe for all the witcher SOs to leave their lovers alone in this oneshot.

Tagged: @shit-i-say-shit-i-think, @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie (idk if you wanted to be tagged for every fandom or just vikings, but i saw you reblog a few eskel fanfics so i thought i'd tag you anyway)

Masterlist | based on this request | requests are OPEN!

Geralt

The only reason why he had gone back into the freezing hall so late at night was because he had forgotten his medallion there after a long evening of drinking games with Lambert. So he didn’t exactly expect to see you there, head buried in your hands with a drink next to you.

You hadn’t been there for dinner or drinking afterwards, Geralt realized now. Had you even eaten? Why hadn’t you been there with the rest of them? Were you sick?

“What are you doing here?” he asked instead, and immediately wanted to hit himself. Of all things he could have said, he chose the words that sounded the most accusatory.

You looked up at him, slightly startled. “Oh. Hello Geralt. I just needed some peace.”

“Hmm.” He replied. “Did you eat yet?”

You shook your head. Fuck. You’d finally put the kids to bed, but you’d totally forgotten about your own dinner.

Geralt sighed, and left the hall, leaving you to sip some more wine and brood. You probably didn’t look half as good as any of the witchers doing it.

You didn’t expect Geralt to come back at all, but he set down a bowl of stew in front of you, before taking a seat next to you.

“I warmed it up with Igni so it might be a little hot.” He told you.

“Thank you.” You replied. The first bite was so good it made you realize just how hungry you actually were.

Geralt didn’t talk to you while you ate, something you were very grateful for in the moment. When you were done with your stew, he set it aside.

“Why weren’t you at dinner? Ciri missed you.” He said.

“Sorry. I was busy with the kids.” You replied. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”

There was a pause while you mulled over your words, hoping that Geralt wouldn’t be as disappointed as Ciri. You could feel tears prick your eyes in exhaustion. The kids had been fussy enough today, and now you’d let Ciri down too.

“Hey.” Geralt said, but you almost didn’t hear him. “Hey, are you okay?” he repeated.

Quickly, you wiped the tears threatening to fall, hoping that he wouldn’t notice. “Yeah, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Geralt shrugged. “It’s hard enough to manage one teenager, and Ciri’s only been with me for a bit. Can’t imagine having to put several kids to bed each night.”

“Sorry if it’s been a bother. We could still move down to the village-“

“You’re not a bother. Who told you that?” Geralt demanded.

“Well,” you began, searching for words. “Their father expected me to take care of them and…”

Geralt seemed genuinely confused at that. “So he didn’t help you?”

You shook your head. “It was my job. And it looks like I keep messing it up.”

He shook his head, before he moved even closer, pulling you into a hug. You sank into it, letting Geralt hold you. Neither of you said anything, and you were glad that he was so quiet. He let you cry onto his shirt with no comment, and when you were done, he carefully wiped the tears from your face.

“You’re an amazing mother. Tomorrow, ask me for help. I love you.” He demanded, and you gave him a slight smile.

“Thank you, Geralt. I love you too.”

Eskel

Fuck. You should have known that Eskel would be in the library. He loved to read, and you hadn’t seen him in the hall or in the courtyard with the others. You prayed that he was engrossed enough in his book that he wouldn’t notice you sneaking past.

Highly unlikely, considering that he’s a trained witcher. You told yourself.

Still, you took a route that hid you behind bookshelves, searching for the section that would hopefully have the right book for you. Eskel looked up once, when you brushed a book that was sticking out into the cramped space between shelves.

Finally, you found the section you had searched for, with books that held advice regarding illnesses. Your youngest had come down with some sort of flu and fever, but for now, it wasn’t too bad. You wanted to take care of them for as long as you could before bothering the others.

There was a book titled ‘Children’s illnesses’ in the shelf, and you almost cried tears of relief then and there. Had Vesemir or some other witcher bought it to take care of the boys before they underwent the Trial of Grasses?

The only problem was that your perfect book was on a top shelf. Not a problem for a hulking witcher, but for a regular human being like you? As quietly as you could, you reached up, and when that didn’t work, you stepped onto the first shelf.

It gave a creak of protest, but it wasn’t too loud, so you stayed where you were. Peering through the shelves, you threw a look at Eskel, who was still reading.

Then, you reached up, grabbing the book firmly and pulling it out. Another book fell out beside it, tumbling to the floor. Just your luck.

“Fuck.” You cursed under your breath. Quickly you picked it up and made to leave the library. You almost didn’t notice Eskel, who stood across from you, sword raised.

“I thought you were something else.” Eskel sighed. “Why are you sneaking around in the library?”

“Just looking for a good book.” You lied. “Didn’t want to disturb you.”

Eskel glanced down at the spine of your book.

“Children’s illnesses. What a riveting read.” He commented dryly.

“Sorry.” You sighed. “I didn’t want to annoy anyone.”

“You’re not annoying anyone. You’re one of the nicest people here. And I love you.”

“Thank you. Love you too. Well, I have the book, so I’ll just go and search for the right stuff.” You said, making to leave.

Eskel caught your arm, stopping you as you tried to brush past.

“Are you alright love?” he asked.

You gave what you hoped was a convincing laugh. “Yeah of course. Just a bit tired. But I’m great, really!”

“We’re all willing to help you.” Eskel reminded. “Especially me. Your kids are the closest I’ll ever be to being a father. I want to help you.”

You didn’t say anything, giving Eskel an awkward smile.

“You should be annoyed at me for spending so little time with you lately. You don’t have to take care of my kids too.”

“Who told you that?” Eskel asked. “Was it that dirtbag that tried to keep you in your own house?”

Apparently, your silence was enough of an answer because Eskel hugged you tightly. “You’re an amazing woman and a better mother than anyone I can think of. Yennefer wishes she was you.”

“Thank you. Even though I doubt an extremely powerful and immortal sorceress is jealous of me.” You sniffled.

“She is.” Eskel promised. “Now, let’s go find Vesemir and ask him for advice. I swear, he knows every single grass to ever grow on the Continent.”

Lambert

No one would notice if you left the dinnertable now, right? You needed to check up on the baby. Call it motherly intuition, but you knew they were awake and up to create chaos right in this moment.

Quickly, you looked over to where Lambert was sitting. You had to stop yourself from laughing. He was telling the story from that one job again, the one he had told your oldest three times already. They still wanted to hear it over and over.

Speaking of oldest, they were talking to Ciri, who was showing off her newest bruises. You were right, no one was paying attention to you. Time to make a quiet exit.

You began sneaking away, walking through the long and dark hallways of Kaer Morhen. There was a feeling of anxiousness and inevitability on your chest, similar to when you had still been with your children’s father.

Lambert had gotten you out of that situation, but you couldn’t run to him for everything.

Almost angrily, you stalked up a flight of stairs and rounded another corner. Suddenly, a rat scurried across your path, and you shrieked, stepping backwards, only to bump into a wall that hadn’t been there before.

Turning around, you shrieked again as you stared up at Lambert.

“Fuck Lambert!” you exclaimed. “You almost scared me to death.”

He gave a quick laugh. Annoyed, you turned around, continuing down the hallway, and Lambert jogged up behind you.

“Hey, why’d you just sneak off during dinner? Meeting your secret lover?” he asked.

“And who would that be?” you asked. “I’m checking on the baby.”

“The baby’s fine.” Lambert insisted. “You’re worrying too much.”

“They’re creating chaos.” You replied. “I know it.”

“And what chaos could a one-year-old create?” Lambert asked.

“I don’t know!” you replied, throwing up your hands. “Probably painting the walls with their own poop. Who the hell knows?”

“You need to calm down.” Lambert told you gently, the humor leaving his voice. Carefully, he put his hands on your shoulders, turning you around to face him.

“The baby’s sleeping, the toddler is safe as my betting chip for Gwent and your oldest is annoying Ciri.”

“Oh god, they’re annoying Ciri.” You almost shouted. “What am I going to do?”

“Take a breath, for starters.” Lambert said.

“Stop joking!” you hissed, jabbing a finger into his chest. Then, you realized that this was Lambert you were talking to, who was trying to take care of you.

“Sorry.” You apologized. “I’ll check on the baby and then I’ll be right back with you. Promise.”

“Y/N. I am not your ex-husband. I want to help you, and you don’t have to manage everything at the same time. You’re doing amazing. And I love your kids, even when they throw up on my shirt.” Lambert reminded. “Now let’s go check on the baby.”

“Your shirt. Right, I’ve washed that, it’s drying over the fire.” You brabbled on as Lambert guided you to your shared room.

Quietly, he opened the door and threw a look inside. “See, they’re sleeping.” Lambert assured.

You stared into the dark, barely seeing anything. You knew Lambert could probably spot a spider in the corner of the room with his enhanced senses, but still, the baby was not smearing poop on the walls and that was a start.

Sighing in relief, you closed the door.

“Come here.” Lambert said, pulling you into a hug. “Let’s go back down. The others probably already miss you.”

You nodded, taking Lambert’s hand as you walked towards the hall. Then, you froze in your spot.

“Wait, did you say that you used my child as a betting chip for Gwent?” you exclaimed. Lambert shrugged.

“Had to get your attention somehow.”

Coen

Coen was out training Ciri, together with Lambert and Geralt, and for once, you were relieved that he wasn’t there. That way, no one was there to see you run around between kitchen, sleeping chambers and the dining hall, trying to appease the devil that was your child in this moment.

All the other witchers were out too, Vesemir making repairs and Eskel in the stable, while Jaskier was too engrossed in composing to notice you running in and out of the hall.

You just needed to find the blanket your kid wanted so desperately and then they’d stop their tantrum, right?

It was embarrassing, your child screaming their head off in their room, and you being unable to do anything to make it stop.

But the blanket was gone, and for the love of Melitele, you could not find it. Tiredly, you went back into your personal hell and picked your child up, trying to rock them to sleep.

Nothing worked. No amount of rocking, not a single lullaby, not letting them scream themselves to exhaustion. They were a never-ending source of noise.

“Please just go to sleep.” You tried again. “Come on, just for half an hour. I still have to take care of your brother. He fell this morning.”

They didn’t listen. Exhausted, you lied them down, which only made them scream even louder. So you picked them up again, desperately trying to make it stop.

“Do you need any help?” Jaskier asked suddenly. Startled, you whipped around.

“Jaskier? What are you doing here?” you asked.

“You were gone from the hall.” He shrugged. “And that baby has a truly incredible lung capacity.”

You sighed. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“Nothing to be sorry about. Do you need any help?”

You shook your head, feeling a migraine build behind your eyes.

“You need help, I’m getting Coen.” Jaskier decided.

“No, please don’t.” you began, but with an extravagant twirl, Jaskier was gone.

“Fuck. Fucking bard.” You muttered, rocking your baby, ignoring how heavy your arms were. A few minutes later, Coen stormed into the room.

“You need help.” He said.

“No, I don’t.” you replied. “I don’t know what Jaskier was going on about.”

“Look into the mirror.” Coen suggested. You turned around, only to be met with a sight that reminded you of someone delusional. Your braid was dissolving into chaos, your eyebags were as dark as ever and-

“I’m fine.” You insisted.

Coen crossed his arms, until your resolve softened (which wasn’t hard, considering that you were about to fall asleep on the spot).

“Alright. Can you hold them for a second? My arms are a bit heavy.” You asked. Coen looked a bit reluctant.

“I don’t know how to hold a baby.” He replied. Carefully, you arranged his arms and laid your child down. Coen smiled at them, beginning to rock them back and forth softly. It was an almost comical sight. The giant witcher going soft at a tiny, screaming bundle of anger.

You wanted to search for the blanket in the room, but you noticed how quiet the baby had become almost immediately. Turning around, you saw them sleeping while Coen softly hummed to them.

“How did you do that?” you whispered.

“I don’t know.” Coen whispered back.

“That’s not fair. I thought they wanted their blanket.”

Coen put them into the bassinet, before he dared to shrug.

“You’re a natural.” You smiled. “You’d make a great father.”

Coen’s smile got even wider. “And you already make an even better mother.” He replied, hugging you tightly.

[spacefinch]

Magic School Bus Tumblr simulator, part 2

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

New life bird! (Saw it while my family and I were on vacation in Louisiana)

Painted Bunting (Passerina ciris)

👾computerdude Follow

That's my favorite bird right there! I love the colors!

⚾️baseball4life Follow

Did you see any crocodiles?

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

Of course not. There are no crocodiles in Louisiana. You were there when the park ranger was explaining that, weren't you?

⚾️baseball4life Follow

I forgot

🎨timdrawsstuff Follow

Go to this random coordinates generator and say in the tags how you would fare if you were dropped where it generates without warning. i’ll go first i’d be dropped in the middle of the fucking south atlantic ocean and perish.

🦖carlosaurus Follow

Ocean

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

Ocean

⚾️baseball4life Follow

Ocean

📚da-science-blogger Follow

Mount Grefell National Park in Australia

🐜keeshaaa Follow

Ocean

🪨arnold-perlstein Follow

Ocean

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

FUCKING ANTARCTICA 🥶❄️

👾computerdude Follow

Ocean

⚾️baseball4life Follow

You have been bonked by this empty wrapping paper tube.

Reblog to bonk all your followers with it.

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

bonk*

🎨timdrawsstuff Follow

THOONK

🦖carlosaurus Follow

THUNK

👾computerdude Follow

BONK

📚da-science-blogger Follow

According to my research, tadpole shrimps (genus Triops) are living fossils. Their ancestors can be traced back to the Devonian Period, and have not changed much since then.

They have a special adaptation for living in the desert. Triops eggs can enter a state of diapause, or a delay of development, when it’s dry. Once it rains, the eggs hatch.

🦖carlosaurus Follow

Ain't that the critter from that They Might Be Giants song

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

Fun fact: blueberries are the only fruit named after a color.

🪨arnold-perlstein Follow

star fruit?

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

so close! That is a shape 💕

🐜keeshaaa Follow

Does the "science side of Tumblr" still exist?

🪨arnold-perlstein Follow

Science side of Tumblr, what do you think?

📚da-science-blogger Follow

Protons

🦖carlosaurus Follow

I'm glad you're thinking positively

🐧penguin-scientist Follow

When I was a young boy, my father had what he called the bean jar. It was a jar full of black and brown beans. Whenever we misbehaved, he would remove one and tell us once the jar was empty, the world would end.

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

[My Chemical Romance voice] When I was... a young boy... my father... had what he called the bean jar

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

This is the best use of the Black Parade. I'm cracking up.

🦖carlosaurus Follow

When I was a young boy,

My father had what he called the bean jar

It was a jar of beans

He said son when it's empty you'll see

That the world will end in fire

That's what the bean jar means

He said will you

induce me to hasten

The pace of Armageddon

And catalyze our doom

Because one day

You'll drive me so crazy

I'll reach into the bean jar

Purloin the last legume

🦖carlosaurus Follow

What mouse walks on two legs?

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

Mickey

🦖carlosaurus Follow

Okay, what duck walks on two legs?

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

Donald

🦖carlosaurus Follow

No, all of them

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

This is the last time you make a fool of me in my own house, goddammit

🐜keeshaaa Follow

Picrew chain! Here's mine:

Link here

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

Here's mine!

🦖carlosaurus Follow

Mine as well

📚da-science-blogger Follow

⚾️baseball4life Follow

Here's mine. They did have a baseball cap option, but it didn't Look Right, so I chose a beanie

🎨timdrawsstuff Follow

Here is mine

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

🪨arnold-perlstein Follow

🦖carlosaurus Follow

How much money do you have?

⚾️baseball4life Follow

69 cents

🦖carlosaurus Follow

You know what that means 😏

⚾️baseball4life Follow

I don't have enough money for chicken nugget :(

🌈official-friz Follow

Our next science project will be on astronomy! You will be working in groups of two for this assignment, so please choose your partners by the end of the day!

🦎official-liz Follow

:) 🪐🔭

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

Partners... who needs them?

📚da-science-blogger Follow

According to my research, most stars in our galaxy are binary or multiple stars. This means they are in a two-or-more star system, and the stars orbit each other.

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

Ok, but what does that have to do with group projects?

📚da-science-blogger Follow

Lots of space objects have partners, so maybe you should, too.

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

I'm not partnering up with YOU. Go find someone else.

📚da-science-blogger Follow

FINE. I will.

⚾️baseball4life Follow

SPONSORED

💫star-shopping-network Follow

ON SALE NOW: BRAND NEW, SHINY STARS! You want them, we got 'em. We have red giants, protostars, yellow dwarfs, red dwarfs, pulsars, and more! To purchase your VERY OWN STAR and name it, call Horace Cope at 1-800-STAR-SHOPPING, or go to starshoppingnetwork.com.

📚da-science-blogger Follow

Okay gang, you know what to do

✈️wildcatwanda Follow

K

🦖carlosaurus Follow

U

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

N

⚾️baseball4life Follow

G

🪨arnold-perlstein Follow

P

🌟janet-is-awesome Follow

O

🎨timdrawsstuff Follow

W

📚da-science-blogger Follow

P

👾computerdude Follow

E

🐧penguin-scientist Follow

N

🐦‍⬛birdgirl Follow

I

🦖carlosaurus Follow

S

🐜keeshaaa Follow

character names and blogs below the cut:

Phoebe: birdgirl

Wanda: wildcatwanda

Dorothy Ann: da-science-blogger

Carlos: carlosaurus

Tim: timdrawsstuff

Arnold: arnold-perlstein

Ralphie: baseball4life

Keesha: keeshaaa

Mikey: computerdude

Ms. Frizzle: official-friz

Liz: official-liz

Dr. Cecil Byrd (Phoebe's uncle): penguin-scientist

Janet: janet-is-awesome

Horace Cope: star-shopping-network

[dreamofbecoming]

pale shadows of forgotten names

so people seem to be enjoying my writing lately, and i realized i never properly posted my first witcher fic on here when i first wrote it- i posted a link to the ao3, but i wasn’t super active in the fandom yet and i didn’t make it readable on tumblr. so i thought i would share it here now, in case anyone is interested, and because it’s nice to have all my writing together in my tag on here

pls note i knew even less about the non-netflix canon then than i do now, so everything about spying is just made up lmao

ao3

geraskier, post-s2, getting together

rating: t

wc: 13k

“Might be best if I stay out of Redania for a while, actually.”

“If you get arrested, I’ll just break you out again. There’s a book there I need, the copy in Kaer Morhen’s library was destroyed. Vesemir said he knew someone in Oxenfurt who might be able to get his hands on one.” Geralt’s tone, as usual, leaves very little room for argument. Luckily, Jaskier has never needed much room when it comes to arguing. Certainly not with Geralt.

“It’s not just that, I really shouldn’t get close to Tretogor anytime soon, either. Especially with Ciri being hunted by half the Continent.” He’s hoping desperately that they won’t ask why, but who is he kidding. His luck is never that good.

“And why, exactly, is Tretogor a problem? Not that we would want to parade around a capital city regardless, but I’m curious. Oxenfurt I get, they’ll be looking for the Sandpiper, I’m sure, or at least the twit that broke out of their jail, but what’s in Tretogor?”

Damn the fucking witch, always too perceptive for her own good. And to think he was almost starting to like her. Well, at least the familiarity of wanting to claw her eyes out is comforting.

Jaskier sighs. He should probably be honest with them if they’re going to travel together, though who knows how long that state of affairs will last this time. Still, he’s not going to risk Ciri. He’d have kept his silence if it were just Geralt and the witch- he already has, in fact, and it worked for nearly 20 years, after all- but Ciri is precious cargo. The rules have changed.

Plus, Yen could probably just read his mind now that she has her magic back. Fucking sorceresses.

Speaking of, “Alright, but not here,” he sighs. “Wait until we make camp and Yen can set up wards or silencing spells or something.” He hasn’t noticed any white owls following them, but she’s always been good at avoiding being seen. That’s sort of the point, he supposes.

“Who do we need wards from, Jaskier? Are you being followed? Should I have left you behind? Did I put Ciri in danger by trusting you?” Geralt’s voice is hard, and Jaskier feels hurt pool in his belly for a moment before cold anger takes its place again.

“Considering I just traipsed halfway across the continent and back, no questions asked, and nearly died trying to help stop a fucking demon from killing her, what the fuck do you think, Geralt? I’ll remind you that only one of us has known and loved her since she was small. Do you really believe I would do that to her? To you?” And maybe that last bit wasn’t really meant to come out, certainly not in that small, sad little voice, but Jaskier is nothing if not a master of pushing through slip ups and missed lines. He’s a goddamn professional. He doesn’t let his expression change where he’s glaring up at Geralt’s stupid, angry, handsome face. Fucker.

He’s traveled with Geralt a long time. Almost a quarter century, on and off (including this last year, which was most decidedly off), more than half of that physically by his side. He knows the Witcher’s face better than he knows his own, and he can predict Geralt’s reaction in almost any scenario you care to name. A perceived threat met with scorn will make him double down on his anger, almost guaranteed. Jaskier knew this going in, but he didn’t spend half a year belting his rage and betrayal to every student and passing traveler in a hundred miles (not to even mention the whole ‘living through a massacre’ thing) to be cowed by Geralt’s glower now, no matter how distressingly sexy it may or may not still be. Or how it maybe still makes his stomach twist with something sick and anxious at the idea of having disappointed him. Again. Fuck that. Geralt has no right to be disappointed in him, not this time.

So naturally he’s a little shocked when, after a few more seconds of unreasonably attractive scowling, Geralt, improbably, backs down.

He heaves a sigh where’s he’s perched on (new) Roach, a sleeping Ciri safely ensconced in his arms on the saddle in front of him. His eyes fall shut for a moment, and when they open, the cold fury is gone, replaced with something that looks a lot like…regret? Sadness? It’s hard to tell in the dark, but regardless, the air of melancholy around him right now is out of character for this particular situation, and extremely disconcerting. Jaskier is definitely disconcerted.

“You’re right. I’m sorry, Jaskier. I do trust you. There’s a cave not far from here, it shouldn’t be too hard to secure. We can make camp soon.”

Was that…an apology? An actual, genuine expression of remorse, unprompted and freely given? He pokes Geralt’s upsettingly firm calf, staring incredulously.

“Are you really Geralt? Do I need to check you with silver or something? Yen, read his mind. Is he some kind of Doppler? Is this actually our Witcher?”

Geralt’s face is flatly unamused, and he kicks out to swat Jaskier’s hand away. Luckily, Jaskier has decades of practice avoiding Witcher speed for annoyance purposes, and pulls his hand back before Geralt can accidentally break his fingers or something. At least, he thinks it would be accidental. Probably.

Atop her borrowed mare, curtesy of Kaer Morhen’s surprisingly impressive herd, Yen raises a perfectly sculpted eyebrow at Geralt’s obvious irritation. “It’s a fair question, Geralt. Immediate, unsolicited apologies for bad behavior are not exactly your brand.” Jaskier is grudgingly impressed that she manages to keep the arch look on her face despite his current frigid distance from her. Apparently they’re not back to mutual teasing levels of familiarity yet, though he’s sure it will only be a matter of time before they’re back to forgetting he’s there mid-sentence to go fuck like stupidly attractive, scary, powerful rabbits. Won’t that be fun to live through again.

Geralt glares harder. Jaskier can’t actually see his face well enough to be sure, but he can always feel when Geralt is glaring, and the angry face quotient in the air definitely goes up a few degrees.

“Cave’s just up here. Jaskier, start setting up camp. Yen, wards. I’ll get Ciri and the horses settled and find something for supper.” He nudges Roach’s flanks and pulls ahead, aiming for a little gap in the trees near a rocky outcropping Jaskier can just barely make out in the scant moonlight. Conversation over then, at least for now.

Yen looks vaguely affronted. “Is it always like this? Traveling with him?”

“What, the glowering? Or the barked orders and being left behind?” If perhaps those words are a touch more bitter than they would have been a year and a half ago, well. That’s no one’s business but his own.

“Both, I suppose? The time I’ve spent with him has rarely been on the road, but he’s never been quite so…demanding. We didn’t exactly do much talking on the way to Kaer Morhen. I’m quite sure he would happily have killed me, or at least have been actively trying to shake me and leave me in the dust, if he hadn’t been so focused on getting to Ciri as quickly as possible.” There’s something brittle and harsh in her tone that feels uncomfortably familiar. It’s far too much like the heavy weight in his ribcage these days, sharp-edged and desperate and miserable.

“If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands!” The hurt and dread freezing his blood in his veins, ice cold and inexorable. The awful silence, waiting for him to take it back, to laugh, to say it was all a horrible joke, or even a dream. The yawning pit of heartbreak and despair that started to rend his chest open, as the reality set in that this was actually it, actually the end, after everything-

Nope. No. Absolutely not. He is done with that, thank you. He is quite finished reliving that moment again and again (and again), he has put it behind him, he is a different man now. A stronger man. A man who won’t betray the loyalty he promised so long ago, but who refuses to let his heart back into the mix this time. He wrote a song about it and everything.

Funny how he almost believes it.

“Oh, I’m sure he was always far more…solicitous with you, darling. This is pretty much standard. The apology is new, and I’m a little surprised he’s letting me set up camp unsupervised,” (this is said with an impressively deep eye-roll, of course), “but besides that, yeah.”

He should be offended that he’s surprised to be given that responsibility, probably. He’s actually a remarkably competent traveler, both with company and without, but even towards the end it rarely occurred to Geralt that Jaskier managed to survive by himself for months or years at a time, or that the camp ended up much the same as it started even when he felt the need to redo all of Jaskier’s work, or that he wasn’t the one cooking the food he hunted or patching his own wounds when Jaskier was around. Not even the handful of times their camp was targeted by bandits, and several of them were already dead by the time Geralt got to them, seemed to register. Or all the times he came back addled and injured from a hunt, and Jaskier knew exactly which potions he needed to recover, and where to find them. Jaskier isn’t sure the great White Wolf ever even noticed a difference. He’s once again a little amazed that it took him so long to see it, that those furious words on the mountaintop actually managed to catch him by surprise. Love really is blind, he supposes.

The cave isn’t huge, but there’s enough room for four bedrolls and a small fire pit without having to snuggle up too close to each other, and it’s dry and lacking in horrid smells or angry monsters, so Jaskier has definitely seen worse.

Roach is tied near the cave entrance, under a small overhang jutting out from the rock to provide her some shelter from the elements. He wants to ask what happened to the old Roach, his- well. Not his Roach anymore, he supposes, not for a while, but he was still fond of her. It had taken years to win her over, but they were good friends by the end, he thought. Certainly she was freer with her affection than her rider. (Which, he realizes now, probably had more to do with his dearth of affection actually available than with his crushing emotional incompetence.) It isn’t really his place to ask, not anymore, but he wishes he could. New Roach is fine, she’s admittedly beautiful and probably a lovely animal, but he misses his friend.

Jaskier has the camp fully set up and a small fire going, near enough to the entrance not to fill the cave with smoke, but far enough inside so as not to be easily seen, and Yen has left her mount next to Roach, filled their waterskins, and is finishing up with the last of the wards shielding them from being found or overheard, when Geralt returns bearing…an entire deer. Fucking overachieving cockhead. He’s cleaning that shit himself, Jaskier isn’t interested. It definitely isn’t sexy seeing Geralt stride in, slightly blood-spattered, biceps bulging, thighs flexing, evidence of his prowess slung easily over his shoulders like a king’s mantle…nope. Not sexy at all. Jaskier isn’t even looking. He certainly isn’t biting back an embarrassing whimper.

He turns around hastily to begin rummaging through his pack for his spices and cooking supplies, filched from Kaer Morhen, of course, since all he had on him when Geralt found him in Oxenfurt was his charm and good looks. He wishes he had his lute, but it’s probably in pieces, rotting in a rubbish heap in Redania. He’ll mourn her at some point. Besides, he’s not sure he would be able to stop himself playing Burn, Butcher, Burn just on reflex, so it’s probably for the best.

They eat a decent supper of venison stew, Ciri waking just long enough to scarf down a bowl and collapse back onto her bedroll. Demon possession and Sphere-jumping really seem to take it out of a person.

Yen tosses another silencing charm around Ciri’s bedroll (they’ll fill her in tomorrow- they don’t intend to keep secrets from her but she deserves her sleep) and Geralt gets to work packing the leftover venison in salt for the road, before they both look up at him expectantly with eerily similar, piercing gazes. Violet and gold, a royal combination if ever there was one. Oh, that’s nice actually, there’s a song in there somewhere. Not one he wants to sing, really, but he’ll probably end up writing it at some point anyway.

“Alright, sharing time, I guess. Always figured this was coming eventually. Not that I imagined anything like this, what with the demons and the horrible rock monsters and the dimension hopping and- yes, yes, alright, I’m getting to it. Calm down.” He heaves a sigh. Hopefully they don’t toss him out on his arse after this, or just kill him. He doesn’t think they’d kill him. Would they? No, they wouldn’t. Probably.

“So you know I’m technically Redanian.” Yennefer nods expectantly while Geralt just. Blinks at him. Fucking gods, honestly. “Wow, ok, you really never paid attention at all when I talked, huh? That makes sense, actually. I guess I should have figured that.” He’s staring into the fire to shield the hurt in his eyes, so he misses the matching look on Geralt’s face before he presses on.

“Anyway, yeah, I’m Redanian, from Kerack, Lettenhove to be specific. Seriously? I’ve introduced myself to a dozen people in front of you with my full name, you really never- ok, yeah, right, never mind. Moving on. Julian Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove. That’s me. Or, it was. Technically it still is, but I never wanted the title. I never wanted that life. I left for Oxenfurt as soon as I was old enough, and when I graduated I went on the road, and then. Well. Then I met you, and, well, you know. You were there. For the rest. Some of it, anyway. Right. Well, Vizimir, or more likely someone on his council, since Vizimir is about as savvy and creative as a garden slug, and almost as charming, and I’m not sure if Dijkstra was advising him at that point-“ He catches Yennefer’s sharp look at Dijkstra’s name, but barrels on, “-anyway, someone noticed that a minor Redanian noble was doing a lot of very visible traveling all over the Continent and associating with a lot of people the Crown wouldn’t normally have an in with, and figured that would be useful. I think at this point, we’d been traveling together…2? 3 years? Something like that. Long enough that I’d started building a name for myself, definitely. Or, for us, I suppose. That’s why they noticed me in the first place.”

He knows he’s babbling, but there are nerves roiling in his gut like a cauldron, and that feeling has always translated into more words, for him. Like a pressure valve. He pauses and risks a glance at the person whose reaction he’s genuinely worried about.

Yen will understand, she’s been in and out of courts and noble circles and political tangles for decades, she knows how this works. She probably won’t trust him, but he’s fairly sure she doesn’t trust him now, so that’s no great loss. He doesn’t trust her either.

Geralt has a more…rigid concept of morality. In Geralt’s world, there are Right Things and Wrong Things. Sometimes you have to do Wrong Things to prevent Wronger Things, but that doesn’t make them not Wrong. And anything to do with kings and courts is usually Wrong. There’s a good chance Geralt might never forgive him for this, or if he does, he won’t be able to look past Jaskier keeping it from him so long.

Geralt’s eyes are fixed on his face, sharp and intent, and utterly unreadable. Jaskier thought he had gotten pretty good over the years at reading the subtle shifts in Geralt’s expressions- the tiny crinkles around his eyes when he wanted to laugh, the minute furrow between his brows when he was confused, the slight tick in his jaw when he was frustrated- but his face is as blank as new parchment right now, nothing but the glint in his golden eyes that says he’s listening to every word out of Jaskier’s mouth.

What a time for him to start doing that, he thinks bitterly. Decades of tuning him out when he thought they were friends, and now that Jaskier might be driving him away for good (again, a tiny voice whispers viciously), he’s hanging on every syllable.

“I was approached by a member of the royal intelligence service, and told that the king had ordered that I be recruited as a spy. Technically I am still nobility, and as such I’m obligated to obey the crown. And while I would gladly give up all the trappings of my title and never be anyone but Jaskier the bard ever again, at the time there would have been serious consequences for refusing, and not the kind that would fall on me. I’m technically a Lord, and I do have people I’m responsible for. I left people in charge that I trust to take care of them in my stead, but it’s my name they’re working under. And if I refused a direct order from Vizimir, I wouldn’t be the one to suffer for it. It wasn’t an option.”

He doesn’t look up from the fire. He doesn’t want to see the expressions on their faces, so he presses on, heart thumping wildly in his chest.

“I did my best to keep my reports…not vague, exactly, but mostly useless, I guess? Obviously I have no interest in being a part of whatever bullshit Vizimir or any other king feels like stirring up, but I had to send them something. Little stuff, mostly, frivolous gossip from the taverns I played in, details of drama and rivalries I picked up in various courts or nobles’ beds. Sometimes accounts of monster populations or incidents if there was anything especially notable, since they knew that’s a lot of what I was doing with my time. Nothing actionable, but useful enough that I couldn’t be accused of shirking my duties.” He’s suddenly struck with an awful fear, and he looks up desperately into slitted golden eyes. “I never said a word about Ciri, Geralt, you have to believe me. I told them about that night, and I had to mention that Pavetta had magic because there’s no way that wouldn’t get out some other way, but I never said a word about a Witcher claiming a Child Surprise. I would never risk her like that, or you, you have to believe me. Please say you believe me Geralt, whatever you think of me, that I would never betray you like that. Please.”

He knows he sounds frantic, that he must look insane, that he can’t stop his begging mouth like a runaway cart, but the thought of Geralt thinking even for a second that Jaskier would ever put orders from a king he cared nothing for over Geralt’s own life, over the life of a child, is a knife in his gut, twisting and pulling until Jaskier thinks he might vomit if Geralt doesn’t say something.

The blank expression is gone, and Geralt looks somewhat taken aback. His brow furrows a little in what looks like confusion, before settling into resignation, or maybe chagrin. Jaskier thinks for a moment that he sees a brief flash of what almost looks like…grief? That can’t be right…in his eyes, but it’s gone as soon as it appeared, and Jaskier thinks he must have imagined it.

Geralt takes a swig from his waterskin and draws in a deep breath before speaking.

“I wasn’t worried that you betrayed Ciri, Jaskier. I know you would cut off your own arm before you did something like that. I don’t love where it sounds like this story is going, but I promise, I’ll never be concerned about that.”

That’s…well, those are more words than he was expecting, surely. And different words than he was expecting, too. He would assume that Geralt is placating him, to calm him down and get him to finish talking, but he can hear the sincerity in his voice. Geralt’s eyes are almost imploring, as if he’s as anxious for Jaskier to believe him as Jaskier had been to be believed. He…isn’t sure what to do with that, actually.

He knows Geralt came back for him, knows he was at least not lying when he said he missed him (though how much is anyone’s guess), knows he trusts him to travel with his…his little family, to help keep them safe or at least not make things worse, but he never assumed it went beyond that.

Geralt was clear, on that mountain. Even if he’s sorry now, even if he missed having him around, he meant those words at the time, and Jaskier has no illusions that he won’t get to that point again. Geralt may have spat those words in helpless anger, may have turned his ire on someone who had nothing to do with the state he was in at that moment, but Geralt doesn’t say things he doesn’t mean. He says plenty of things he regrets, but he always means them at the time. He did, at one point, believe Jaskier to be a curse and a burden, and Jaskier is fully aware that he will come to that belief again, eventually.

He knows what that particular heartbreak feels like, now. He knows he can survive it, even if he wishes he wouldn’t, sometimes. Mostly, he knows that it will always, always be worth it. Geralt will always be worth it.

Gods but he’s a lovesick fool.

But now, instead of cold distain, or fiery wrath, or, worst of all, blank indifference, Geralt is looking at him like…like he’s sorry. Like he’s desperate for Jaskier’s forgiveness. Forgiveness for what? Jaskier is the one who hid the fact that he was a spy for most of their relatio- friendship. Acquaintanceship. Association. Whichever one wouldn’t piss Geralt off. Geralt hasn’t fucked up here, this time at least.

But he could never resist when Geralt asked him like this for anything, with genuine emotion instead grunted contempt, with even the vaguest hint of affection, like maybe Geralt enjoyed spending time with Jaskier, too. Like maybe Jaskier mattered to Geralt, at least a fraction of how much Geralt mattered to Jaskier. Gods above, he’s so weak for this man.

“Ok. Alright, good. That’s good. I’m glad. Thank you. I know I- anyway. Thank you. Right, where was I? Yes, ok, reports. So I kept myself mostly useless for pretty much the whole time we were together. I mean- not. Not together, obviously, but traveling together. As friends. Or not friends. Whatever. What was I saying?” He’s spiraling, fuck, he’s spiraling, he needs to get out of this, how does he get out of this?

Geralt is looking even more confused than before, but Yennefer is definitely laughing at him in her head. Witch. Like she isn’t just as much of a mess for him. She should be on his side! They bonded over this already and everything!

At least the indignation is enough for him to pull out of the whirlpool of awkward babble and self-sabotage he was trapped in, and he manages to right himself.

“Anyway! Ok! So! Right, well, things changed not quite a year ago, now, after the raid on Bleobheris.” He sobers at the memories, the scent of blood and the sound of screams suddenly heavy in the dry air of the cave. “It was…brutal. I’ve never seen anything like that, not in all my years Witchering with you. I wanted to help. I needed to do something, to…fix something. Anything, no matter how small. That’s when I was contacted by an anonymous benefactor, who offered to fund an effort to smuggle refugees to Xin’Trea. Word had spread about Nilfgaard’s alliance with the elves, that they could be safe there.”

“So the Sandpiper was born,” Yennefer says.

“Right. But I don’t like not knowing where my help is coming from and why. I may not have been a very useful spy in Redania’s eyes for the last 20 years, but it actually takes quite a bit of effort to be ineffective without being useless enough to fire or kill, and as it turns out, I’m actually quite good at it. Call it the performer’s heart in me, or something. So I was able to ferret out that the man behind the money was Sigismund Dijkstra, who had managed to get himself appointed spymaster to Vizimir, which, interestingly, made him my employer, as well as my benefactor.”

Yen looks up sharply again at Dijkstra’s name. Jaskier turns to her, curious.

“You’re familiar, I assume?”

“He’s been causing rifts at Aretuza, riling up the Brotherhood,” she says, brow furrowed. “Pretending to bring counsel and information but really just sowing discord. I’m not clear on the details, but I know elves were mentioned. There are those on the council who take issue with my heritage, so I try to keep on top of the rumors. I wasn’t at Aretuza for long, though, and I…didn’t exactly leave on good terms. I haven’t got many friends left there.” Geralt glances at her sympathetically.

Jaskier nods. “That sounds like him. I wouldn’t trust that man to clean my privy, much less provide thousands of crowns, probably from Vizimir’s coffers, for a worthy cause with no expectations of repayment.” He shakes his head. “I kept my suspicions to myself, though, the network needed the coin and regardless of his motivations, we really were helping people. I wasn’t going to let that go to waste.

“I guess, with me finally settling in one place for so long, and probably Dijkstra feeling like I owed him for the funding, even though I wasn’t meant to know it was him, they started expecting more from me, in terms of intelligence. I didn’t really have a choice, since now they always knew where to find me if they wanted to cause me problems, and besides, Dijkstra was already privy to the network’s efforts anyway as the main benefactor, so I figured it was mostly alright that I’ve had to give more…comprehensive reports to Vizimir the last several months.

“Since Cintra fell, most people know about Ciri, or at least that she’s on the game-board somehow. There are rumors of Nilfgaard searching for a Witcher, so I’m sure some people have put together that you’re involved somehow, but I don’t think too many of the courts, at least, have details. Just that Nilfgaard wants her and maybe there’s a Witcher involved. I made sure not to include too much information that they didn’t already have, but I can’t say for sure what every Northern king knows, or what the Brotherhood knows.” He glances at Yen, who shakes her head and shrugs.

“Anyway, so that’s the meat of it. The concern is that since I became an actual useful asset for them, they’ve been keeping a much closer eye on me. That’s why I was worried about the wards.”

“Alright, I can understand all of that,” Geralt cuts in. “I don’t like that you kept it from me, but I can’t fault your choices. You’re right that we can’t have them sniffing around you, not with Ciri in your orbit.” He frowns. “Would it be possible for you just…fall off the map? Disappear? Redania can’t demand anything from a missing viscount.”

Jaskier winces a little. “I would love to do that, the problem being that Dijkstra works closely with Tretogor’s court mage, who has the charming little talent of transforming into a bird whenever she wants.”

Yen’s eyebrows both go up this time. “Phillipa? She’s quite impressive. A little too entrenched in political intrigue for my taste, but I can’t deny she’s talented. Tissaia speaks very highly of her, certainly.”

She looks thoughtful as she gazes at him over the fire. “You’re worried she’s following you, then? For information on Geralt, since everyone knows Jaskier the Bard is the man to talk to if you want to know about Witchers.”

Her tone is…teasing? Is she teasing him? First hugging, and now teasing? Yeah, he’s not dealing with that right now. He sticks out his tongue at her (he does still have a bantering streak to uphold, after all) before nodding.

“I don’t know for sure  if she was in Oxenfurt when Geralt broke me out. I don’t think so, but I certainly wasn’t combing every tree for owls, and there’s no chance of me noticing her out here in the woods. I’m just hoping that if she were around now, you’d sense her, Yen, and that she wasn’t able to bring back anything about Ciri or Geralt or Kaer Morhen to Dijkstra. Or you, either, since the Brotherhood are so unhappy with you.”

Yen looks surprised and very slightly pleased to be included in Jaskier’s concern. Or at least Jaskier thinks that’s the expression he can parse under her normal very scary murder face, which he finds is almost a relief to see. The soft regret and concern of recent weeks has been…unsettling. The sun rises, the rain falls, Yennefer of Vengerberg is gorgeous, aloof, and terrifying. This is the natural order.

Geralt is wearing a pensive expression, frowning slightly at where Ciri lies, sleeping peacefully. Dear girl, Jaskier hopes she isn’t having any nightmares. She’s been through hell lately, and she’s always had trouble sleeping anyway. Jaskier wonders if he can find the name of that tea Mousesack used to give her to help her sleep. Jaskier even tried it once or twice, when winter nights in Cintra without his Witcher’s soft, even breaths became too much; the stuff worked wonders.

“Alright,” he says eventually, nodding. “I’ll see if I can go to Redania myself, and leave you two with Ciri until I can get back. We’ll keep our campsites warded if we can, Yen, I don’t want you to wear yourself out, but some protection would probably be best. Are you able to see if you can sense anyone from here, or do you need to go outside the wards?”

“I’ll do a lap around the area, but there’s a chance anyone who is out there will sense me as soon as I start casting about. It would be best if you all stayed here, to protect Ciri in case someone actually has come for her.”

“I don’t like any of us going out alone, Yen, especially with the express intention of seeking out danger. I should go with you.” Geralt makes to stand and grab his swords from beside his seat, but Yennefer waves him back down.

“You’d only distract me, and besides, do you want to leave the totally untrained sorceress and the normal human alone here?” Jaskier makes an affronted squawking noise.

“Hey! I’m plenty competent, thank you!” He prudently ignores the minor inaccuracy of his humanity, and instead huffs at the matching incredulous looks he receives. “Rude. Honestly, I get no respect around here. I survived just fine on my own for years, you know! Besides, I traveled with a reckless idiot Witcher for 20 years, you pick up more than you’d think.” He glares at them both until Yen smirks and Geralt looks baffled and vaguely offended, but at least they both look away, which is an improvement.

Until the two of them end up in a stare off, clearly having some sort of emphatic conversation with their eyes alone, and Jaskier has to turn away to start putting away the cooking supplies they won’t need for breakfast tomorrow. He’s warming up to Yennefer, much to his chagrin, but he’s had quite enough of watching the man he loves eyefuck someone else, for this lifetime and the next, thanks ever so.

He hears Geralt huff, a sound he recognizes as him realizing whoever he’s arguing with is just going to do as they please anyway, and he might as well make the best of it.

He made that sound at Jaskier a lot. Usually when he talked his way into coming along on hunts, but really any time Jaskier wanted something from him beyond some seared rabbit, a fire to sleep beside, and monosyllabic grunts in response to questions (if he was lucky)- a night at an inn, a stop at a local festival, an actual hot bath with herbs and flowers and scented oils. Arms to hold him on especially cold nights, when blankets weren’t enough to warm (mostly) human skin.

Jaskier used to think it was cute. A game, just for the two of them, Jaskier pushing, Geralt pulling, or the other way around, always meeting in the middle (or, more often, closer to Jaskier’s side) with what Jaskier had always assumed was mutual amusement and affection. He knows better now.

There’s the telltale swish of Yennefer’s skirts, a strange popping sensation in his ears, and then the feeling of the wards coming back up behind her.

The silencing spell around Ciri is still up, as far as he knows, and she’s dead to the world besides, so it’s just him and Geralt now.

It isn’t the first time they’ve been alone since Oxenfurt, but it is the first time since Jaskier was invited (by Ciri, it should be noted, not Geralt) to travel with them as a companion, not as backup.

That one still stings, if he’s honest. He held out hope for months that Geralt would come back for him, would seek him out with a stuttered apology (or more likely a silently offered ale and an invitation to come with him to his next hunt).  Maybe at a tavern, or the Seat of Friendship, or even a ball or musical competition where Jaskier was playing. He knows how much Geralt hates getting dressed up, how much it would have meant for him to go to that effort just to see Jaskier.

He imagined seeing him sitting silently in the back of one of his lectures one day, watching the lesson with quiet affection and waiting for him to be finished so they could talk. Imagined hearing the sound of Roach’s hooves coming up behind him on some backroad to nowhere while he strummed his lute in the sunshine.

He imagined a thousand different reunions, a thousand apologies, a thousand ways for them to turn back the clock. (During some of the longer nights, when he was alone in his rooms staring out at the moon through the window, wondering if Geralt was lying on his bedroll in a forest clearing somewhere staring up at the same moon, he imagined a thousand different love confessions. But he has no intention of admitting that to anyone but his own foolish heart. He may be a bard, and a hopeless romantic, but there’s no need to bare all of his weeping wounds, especially when there’s no hope of healing them.)

For all his daydreaming, he never imagined that Geralt would seek him out only when he needed an extra set of hands and all his other options were exhausted. Never imagined he would be not just a tool to be used, but the last resort as well.

He shouldn’t be surprised, after everything, but the knowledge that he was never really anything else to Geralt still aches like a broken rib, flashes of pain shooting through his chest with every inhale.

This is the first time they’ve been alone together without an immediate crisis, without a clearly defined mission beyond the open road, just like it used to be.

Except nothing like it used to be, because how it used to be is gone. It will never be that way again. Geralt burned those memories down, with words as sharp as swords and as destructive as dragon fire.

Jaskier has no fucking idea how to deal with this.

“Jas-“ Geralt cuts off and clears his throat. Jaskier can hear him gulping from his waterskin before trying again. “Jaskier.”

“Yes?” He tries to keep his voice light, but he doesn’t turn around.

“Jaskier, can we. Can we talk? Please?”

It’s the ‘please’ that does it. Geralt so rarely says please. Jaskier may need more than his fingers to count the times he’s heard it directed at him, but he can still remember each one in perfect clarity. Besides, they had more than 20 years together, “more than 10” is still not exactly a stellar ratio.

Jaskier���s resolve breaks (did he ever really have any? Has he ever had any when it comes to this man?) and he turns, schooling his face into something meant to look bright and open. He’s not sure how well it works. “Of course, Geralt. What’s on your mind?”

“I-“ Geralt looks…lost. He looks like he has absolutely no idea how to get where he’s going, and it’s killing him. Jaskier crumbles.

“You’ve already apologized, Geralt, if that’s what you’re worried about. I’ve forgiven you. You were angry, you needed a target, I was there. It’s behind us.” He looks at the fire, for lack of anything else that isn’t Geralt’s stupid awful gorgeous face, wishing desperately he had his lute. He never felt awkward with his lute. Never rubbed anxious circles around his calluses for lack of anything to do with his hands. Never sat in a silence so painful he wondered if his ears would bleed.

Geralt lets out a breath like he’s trying to remember how. “That’s not. I mean it is. But. I. Fuck.” Jaskier looks up from the fire to see him scrubbing a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic display of emotion. The adorable fool manages to get his hand tangled in the locks when he forgets about the band holding half of it back from his face.

“Oh for Melitele’s sake- stop moving, you lug, I’ll fix it. You’re going to tear it out in chunks if you keep pulling like that, just hold still, or I’ll have to rewrite all the songs to be about The Bald Wolf instead. Ye gods, Geralt, how did you survive without me? Honestly.” He’s across the cave and kneeling behind Geralt on the other side of the fire before he consciously registers the decision to move. Fucking hells, even his own body is against him.

He has his hands in Geralt’s (soft, silky, gorgeous) hair, untangling it gently from where it’s wound itself tightly around his (scarred, strong, beautiful) fingers. He thinks he hears Geralt’s breath catch, but he’s too distracted trying to keep his own lungs working at all to focus on it.

Once Geralt’s hand is free (and does Geralt seem as reluctant to let go and put his hand back in his lap as Jaskier is to let him?) Jaskier sets to work on the much more finicky task of removing the band without pulling half of Geralt’s hair out with it, which would honestly be a crime against…well, anyone with eyes really. Jaskier may be in love with him, but he’s also seen a truly exorbitant number of beautiful people across the continent, many of them naked, so he thinks he’s fairly qualified when he says that Geralt is one of the most singularly stunning people on the face of the earth, bias or not. Especially now that he seems to be taking better care of his hair than he used to when Jaskier wasn’t around.

Jaskier is actually rather shocked at how well-kept Geralt is. His hair is smooth and soft and clean, and smells like…is that apple blossom? That’s one of Jaskier’s favorite scents. It never fails to make him feel light and warm, like spring sunshine. He uses it in his own hair more often than the other oils he carries.

Back when washing Geralt’s hair for him was an occasional but deeply treasured privilege of his, Jaskier used to use it for him, as well. That Geralt has somehow, for some reason, gotten some of his own to use during their separation…it makes something warm and fragile stir in Jaskier’s chest. Warm and fragile and dangerous. Hope is easily crushed, and when it is, it takes everything else down with it. Jaskier isn’t doing that again. Not so soon.

He finishes detaching the tie as efficiently as he can, and hands it over Geralt’s shoulder before sitting back on his heels and exhaling violently.

“There you are darling, all fixed. Now,-“

“I didn’t.” Geralt interrupts him, whisper quiet but still somehow deafening over the crackling fire.

“What?”

“Survive without you. I didn’t. Or, I guess I should say I did, but that’s all I did.”

Jaskier has, for once, absolutely no idea what to say, so he tries something new, and says nothing. He’s barely even sure he’s breathing, staring at the back of Geralt’s head and all his moonlit hair like he’s staring into the jaws of a barghest as he waits to see if he will continue.

He does, words falling out of him in a rush like a river pouring through a broken dam, desperate in a way Jaskier has never heard him before.

“I knew I’d fucked up, on the mountain. As soon as the words were out of my mouth I knew it. It’s like. It’s like I was a bottle of juice, gone off, going ranker and ranker until the cork flies right out and takes someone’s eye out. I thought I was angry at Borch, at Yen, at Calanthe, at fucking Destiny, at everything. Even you, who hadn’t done one thing wrong. But really it was just me. I was just angry at myself, and there’s. There’s not. There isn’t anywhere for that kind of anger to go. It just builds up and up and up until it explodes, and you with it, and I knew I was going to let it out at someone. And then you were there, and you were trying to help. Like always. You always help. You make everything better, like you were just trying to make me feel better. But I was so angry, and it was all my fault, it was all my stupid selfish choices, the djinn, the wish, Ciri, all of it my fault, and I didn’t deserve to feel better. I didn’t deserve it and I had to make you stop and so. I did. I did it on purpose. I did it because I knew that was the thing to say that would hurt you the most. That would make me a monster like I know I am. Monsters are easy. Easier than mistakes and bad choices. So I made another bad choice and hurt someone else and decided to be a monster.”

There might be tears streaming down Jaskier’s face, but he can’t tell because he can’t breathe, can’t think, can’t hear anything but the rushing in his ears and Geralt’s voice ripping into him with savage, gentle claws.

“Once Yen was gone- It’s hard to think with her around, sometimes. It’s the wish, I think. Everything else gets duller, quieter, a little out of focus. Like in a dream when the only thing you can see clearly is the person you know the dream is about, the person you’re supposed to talk to.” Oh this…this is actually torture. Geralt might actually be killing him because he still can’t fucking breathe and he just keeps talking.

“It’s better now. Maybe it’s Ciri, my Destiny is split between them now so it’s not so overwhelming. Or maybe Ciri is her Destiny too, and now that we’ll always have her, the both of us, the wish doesn’t need to force us to be in love for us to stay nearby. I don’t know. It’s easier now, though. And even easier when you’re here.”

Wait, what? Now Jaskier knows he’s dead, or dying, or hallucinating, or something, because there’s no way that means what he wants it to mean.

“After Yen left, my head started to clear. Things came back into focus. I realized what I’d done, but suddenly I could also see that it wasn’t just what I yelled at you. It was so much more, so much deeper. I had been so awful to you, for so long, and you just. Took it. All of it. Everything I had, all my anger and my fear and my loneliness. You just let me. You always came back. You kept choosing me, even when I was cruel. I was ashamed, but I also thought…” He breaks off with a great shuddering breath, his head hanging.

Jaskier feels a little like he’s floating. Like he can see his body, kneeling there in the dirt behind Geralt, staring at his sculpted shoulderblades with a blind, devastated look on his tear-streaked face. How odd.

Geralt, somehow, impossibly, keeps going. This is more words than Jaskier has heard him say in the last two decades. This is more words than he knew Geralt was capable of saying. Where are all these words coming from?

It’s like all this time, he had been saving these. Stockpiling them, though for what Jaskier can’t begin to guess. A rainy day? An emergency? This? And now the doors of the granary have come loose and the winter stores are flooding the yard and Jaskier thinks he might end up buried alive.

“I thought you’d come back.” Geralt’s voice is thicker, somehow, and oh, gods, is he crying? “I thought you would come back, like before, like always, and it would be ok. And I would try to be better. I would try to be the man you thought I was. And it would be ok. But you-“ He cuts off with another great shuddering breath, and seems to center himself. “You didn’t come back. And that’s when I realized I had finally gone too far.”

Jaskier has been trying to process all of these many, many, many, mostly incomprehensible words, and he’s maybe fallen a little bit behind, because he hears himself cut in with an incredulous “Wait, are you saying that every time you were rude or dismissive to me, it wasn’t just because you don’t know how to conduct yourself in a normal friendship because you’ve never had one, but actually because you knew you were being cruel and you knew you could get away with it because I would always come back?”

Geralt’s head hangs even lower, and Jaskier has to strain to hear his gravelly whispered reply.

“Yes. Maybe not consciously, or in so many words, but yes.”

Jaskier flounders for a moment, wounds he spent the last year trying to close tearing back open even wider than before.

“All this time? You thought so little of me, all this time? I was just a- a- a practice dummy? Something that won’t fight back or feel pain, so you can hit it has hard or as many times as you want?” His voice began at a whisper, to match Geralt’s, but has gotten steadily louder and more tear-filled the more he speaks.

“No, that isn’t-“

“I can’t- I’m not- I need a moment. Please, Geralt I need- Please.” He can’t keep sitting this close to him, feeling his body heat just as warm as the fire he’s blocking Jaskier from, can’t keep listening to his low rumbling voice, like thunder and gravel and home, like a silver sword through the midsection. Not when the pain and the anger and the hope are all bleeding together and he doesn’t know how to feel them properly and he still can’t fucking breathe.

Geralt’s breath hitches, a tiny little wisp of sound, and Jaskier is going to fucking lose it.

“Please, Geralt.” It comes out in a broken whisper, which is more revealing than Jaskier was hoping, but it’s not like he’s managed to hide anything anyway, so it hardly matters.

Geralt nods, back still to Jaskier in front of the fire, and stands smoothly to walk over to a corner near the entrance, where he can see all four bedrolls and the cave mouth clearly. Ready to protect. Always ready to defend. He sinks to his knees and his breathing takes on the familiar cadence of meditation.

Jaskier takes a moment to look at him. At the way his hands are clutched a little tighter on his thighs than they normally would be while he mediates, like he hasn’t managed to purge all the fear from his body the way he has his mind. At the new scars he can see on his forearms and one snaking over his collarbone, scars that Jaskier wasn’t there to bandage and fuss over. At the way his hair spills over his shoulders, still tousled from Jaskier’s fingers. At the single tear track carving a path down one marble cheek.

Jaskier sucks in a breath and turns away before he breaks down and Yen comes back to find him catatonic on the ground.

He ends up standing at the mouth of the cave, stroking New Roach’s neck and petting his hands through her glossy mane gently. Her slow breathing and the familiar warm, earthy smell of horse help ground him, bring him back from that awful frantic-floating feeling, where he was nowhere and trapped all at once.

He chatters to her quietly, just like he did to her predecessor. She, at least, warms up to him much more quickly.

A warm, black nose thumps gently into his chest. “Yes, my love, I know I need to protect my heart. I’m trying! Can’t you see how hard I’m trying?” She nickers softly, more of a puff of breath than a proper sound.

“Well aren’t we feeling smug this evening, sweet thing.” Another thump. “It’s alright darling, I don’t blame you. I think I’m ridiculous, too. I just don’t know how to fix it.” He strokes a hand down her forehead, scritching lightly.

“No, me either. You know what the problem is, don’t you?” She lips at his hair, which he takes as an invitation to continue.

His voice is even quieter now, the barest thread of a whisper, quiet enough that even Geralt might not overhear if he comes out of meditation. “The problem is that I’ve spent all this time coming up with plans and strategies and contingencies for not giving my heart away again, when the truth is I don’t think I ever got it back in the first place.”

He rests his forehead against hers in defeat, tears falling silently again. He’s going to dehydrate at this point, but what does he care when he has a beautiful lady providing him such warm, solid comfort right here?

“I have to say, songbird, this is not what I expected to find when I came back tonight.”

Jaskier does not flail. He is a professional performer, he has immaculate control over his body at all times. And he definitely doesn’t squeak, no bard would ever be caught dead making such an undignified noise unintentionally.

So no, he neither flails nor squeaks, and if New Roach gets very slightly spooked and a lot disgruntled, it was from Yennefer sneaking up out of bloody nowhere like a wraith in the night, and certainly nothing Jaskier did. If either of them say different, they’re lying.

“Are you trying to give me a heart attack? Is this your plan to kill me and make it look like an accident? I’ll tell Ciri, she’ll come after you with her dagger, see if she doesn’t. Ciri likes me. Ciri would avenge me.” He’s  clutching his chest, heartbeat gradually beginning to slow.

New Roach is still giving him a dubious look. That’s rude, this is hardly his fault. It’s Yen she should be grumpy with.

“Well, I was rather hoping that by this point in the evening, you wouldn’t need a miniature Witcherling-sorceress to defend you, since you’d have your big strong Witcher back, but somehow things seem to have gotten worse in my absence. Did he not manage to tell you his real feelings? Bloody Witchers, trust him to be resistant to my recipe, it’s never bloody failed before, if he’s made this worse somehow I’m going to bloody dissect him to figure out where I went wrong-“ She continues muttering darkly while Jaskier stares at her in shock.

His mind is valiantly trying to shake off enough of the lingering fog of tears to pull some of those threads together and figure out what the fuck she’s talking about.

Recipe? Real feelings? Make what worse? Did she…did she dose him with something? Did she put a fucking spell on his Witcher? He might have to have Ciri stab her after all, since he has no illusions about his own abilities to take her in a fight.

“What the fuck are you talking about, witch? What did you give him? What the fuck did you do? I’ll kill you myself you vicious little shrew, see if I don’t!”

She waves a hand dismissively, scoffing at his threats. Admittedly he is not at his best, though in his defense it’s hard to adopt a proper fighting stance when you’ve just spent half an hour kneeling in the dirt while your still-beating heart was slowly diced into bite-sized pieces. Tough on the knees, you know.

“Please, you should be thanking me. It was fucking exhausting, these last few weeks, watching you two throw longing glances back and forth when you think no one’s looking. I’m just trying to help things along.”

“Help- what? What things? Help things along how?” He’s trying very hard to hold onto his righteous anger at her for (possibly?) drugging the man he loves, but she keeps saying things that dredge up that dangerous warm feeling from before, and he’s losing his resolve.

“Nothing sinister, songbird. I’m done with that, I’m on the side of the White Knights now, remember? Have a little faith in me, for Lilit’s sake.” She rolls her eyes, but either he’s getting better at reading her or she’s making an effort to be easier to read, because he can feel the sincerity in her words. “We both know all that nonsense about Witchers not feeling is horseshit, yes?” He nods. Obviously it is, Geralt feels more deeply than anyone he’s ever met. “But I know you also understand how much he struggles to make sense of what he’s feeling, or to make himself heard when he does.”

She’s right about that, too. Jaskier knows the emotions are there, has always known, since the moment he saw Geralt in that tavern in Posada. But he’s watched Geralt get lost in the tangle of feelings inside him so thoroughly that all the words get stuck and nothing comes out. He’s seen it happen hundreds of times. That’s part of why he’s always wanted to badly to sing about him, to tell the world what Geralt can’t, to be the words when he can’t find them.

Yen gestures to the corner where Geralt is still meditating peacefully. “I didn’t do anything to his feelings. Couldn’t if I tried, that’s not really how my magic works, anyway. But I knew there are things he’s been wanting to say, and he’s been suffering for not knowing how. And as antagonistic as we may be, I don’t actually hate you nearly so much these days, and I find myself discomfited by your very obvious pining, as well.” Well, that’s…actually quite sweet. And rather disquieting, if he’s honest.

“So I gave him something to help him articulate himself. It won’t make him say anything he doesn’t want to, won’t force him to reveal any truths against his will or create any feelings that weren’t already there. It just…smooths the way. Untangles all those knots in his head so something coherent can make it out of his mouth. But you two aren’t cuddled up by the fire making me want to vomit, which means it didn’t fucking work, and I have to figure out why!” She looks rather like she would huff and stomp her foot at this, if the great and powerful Yennefer of Vengerberg would ever stoop to something so childish.

Jaskier thinks very hard about the last hour or so of his life. He thinks about Geralt saying “please,” and he thinks about the way all those words fell out of him and just kept coming and coming and coming, like a pot boiling over, piling up in a heap at Jaskier’s feet. He thinks about Geralt crying.

“Well- uh. Hmm. You know, it occurs to me now- it’s funny really, I think you’ll laugh, definitely laugh, not look at me with that petrifying glare you’ve got on right now, no you’ll be laughing I’m quite sure- Alright, yes, ok! Yes! Right, well, um. I think, looking at recent events, fresh eyes and all that you know- I’m just saying, it would have been helpful to have some of this information going in, is all- Ow! Melitele’s tits, that hurt! Do those nails come standard at Aretuza, or were you just born lucky? Ouch! Ok, ok, stop pinching me, witch! Like I was saying, with the benefit of this new information, I think it’s possible your magical intervention whosit thingy may have worked exactly as expected?”

She narrows her eyes. “If it worked, why are you crying to a horse instead of snuggling with your man?” His man. That can’t be right. Can it? Geralt isn’t his. Except. Except for all the things he sounded like he might be gearing up to say when Jaskier cut him off. Fuck.

“I, uh. I maybe. I maybe stopped him partway through and told him I needed a break?” He winces back as her already truly impressive glare intensifies even further- yep, she’s still got it.

“I did not go to all the effort of brewing that fucking potion, tailoring it for Witcher metabolisms, and making it fucking tasteless and odorless so he would drink it, not to mention standing out here in the fucking woods in the middle of the night with nothing to fucking do, just so you could chicken out halfway through getting everything you ever fucking wanted.” Her eyes are glowing violet now, which is. Wow. Scary. She’s so scary. He remembers now why he always thought she was so so scary. She jabs her finger towards the kneeling figure by the wall. “Get the fuck back in there and finish the damn conversation, bard,” she hisses. “I will not deal with this bullshit all the way to the Redanian border.”

She turns to leave again, and Jaskier shoots out a hand to stop her. She looks at his hand on her elbow and he briefly worries he’s going to end the night as a slug of some kind, but she just looks up at him questioningly.

“I just. Fuck. I know- I know this probably wasn’t easy for you. You know I know better than most what you’re feeling right now. But you’re helping anyway, so. Thank you, Yennefer. Even if it doesn’t go like you think, like I hope, you were willing to try even though it hurts, so thank you.” He isn’t sure what his face is doing, but he hopes she can see how genuinely grateful he is.

She smiles a little sadly. “Come on, songbird, We both know he was never really mine. And besides, I’m not the settling down type. Now go, don’t make me curse you.” She shoots him what would be a very passable glare if it weren’t for the slight glimmer of tears in her eyes, then spins on her heel and stalks off into the night.

He turns back to the cave, hesitating for a single moment before there’s an irritated huff, a nip to the sleeve of his jacket, and a frankly unnecessarily forceful shove to his back. He glares back at Roach, who seems unperturbed. “I’ve got entirely too many black-haired gorgeous women trying to run my life right now, do you hear me? Too many!” Roach huffs again. “Fine. I’m going, are you happy?” He takes another step and looks over his shoulder. She looks smug. Of course she does. “I think you’re just the old Roach reincarnated. Never seen another horse look so damn satisfied with herself,” he mutters, but he’s already heading back into the cave, so he figures she’s won this round.

He feels slightly guilty about grabbing Geralt’s waterskin before going to him, but he isn’t sure how long Yen’s potion lasts, or if meditating will have burned more of it off. Maybe it’s disingenuous to give him more without telling him what’s in it, but, weirdly, he trusts Yen when she says it won’t force Geralt to do or say anything he doesn’t want to, and Jaskier isn’t sure he’ll ever get to hear the words otherwise. He’ll tell him afterwards. He won’t keep this secret forever.

He sits down quietly next to Geralt, leaning up against the wall of the cave. He takes one deep breath, then another, and another. He rests his fingers gently on Geralt’s hand where it sits on his thigh. Geralt’s breathing gradually picks up until he’s back to almost his normal, slow rhythm. His eyes open, landing on Jaskier’s hand on his and following the line of his arm back up to his face.

Jaskier hands him the waterskin, and Geralt takes it with a nod of gratitude before taking a long drink. “I’m alright now,” Jaskier says. “I’m sorry I stopped you.

Geralt searches his face, eyes searching Jaskier’s for signs of dishonesty. Apparently finding none, he nods slightly, golden eyes closing again for a moment. When they open, he’s not looking at Jaskier any longer.

Jaskier looks at his hand, fingertips still resting ever so lightly on Geralt’s palm, and considers taking it back. He thinks about what Geralt has told him so far tonight, about the conviction in Yen’s voice when she insisted Geralt had feelings for him. Fuck it, he decides, and lays his hand more firmly in Geralt’s, lacing their fingers together. Geralt draws in a sharp breath and looks up at him in shock, but he doesn’t pull away. Instead, he grips Jaskier’s hand tighter, like he’s worried Jaskier is going to try to run.

“I know you,” Jaskier says slowly. “I’ve known you for more than half my life, and I know that you aren’t cruel, or callous, or unkind. I know that there is always a reason behind the things you say, and the things you do, even if no one else can see it.” He swallows hard, closing his eyes briefly. Geralt squeezes his hand lightly, which…helps, actually. It helps a lot. “I’m sorry I accused you of hurting me on purpose, for the sake of causing me pain. I was overwhelmed and having trouble processing things, but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion I know wasn’t true. If you still want to talk, I’m ready to listen now.”

“It wasn’t an illogical conclusion to draw. And it wasn’t even completely wrong.” His voice is calmer than before, measured and even. Not as frantic. The river is still flowing free, but it’s calmed, no longer the violent rush of a broken dam. He sighs, a great, world-weary thing. “It was because you’re safe.” Jaskier looks at him quizzically.

Geralt draws in another deep breath before continuing. “I can’t ever show emotion. Not to humans. Not anger, or fear, or sometimes even joy. The myths about Witchers not having feelings…they aren’t just vicious rumors made up by bigots. They’re there to protect us. From them.”

Jaskier frowns. “You mean Witchers put that rumor out yourselves? But why?” Surely demonstrating how human Witchers really are can only help matters, right?

“In a way.” Geralt tilts his head in the way Jaskier knows means he’s remembering something long past. “It’s part of how we’re trained. We’re taught to suppress emotion, to hide it from everyone, including ourselves. It’s how we’ve done things for 400 years.” His thumb sweeps little arcs across the back of Jaskier’s hand, and Jaskier’s heart trips in his chest. He knows Geralt can probably hear it, but it must not worry him and he keeps talking.

“The first Witchers were experiments. Men twisted by mages hoping to combat the monsters that plagued the world. The process has been…refined, since then. At first, they really were- well. More monster than man.” Geralt tips his head back against the rock wall. “Humans were terrified of them. One and all, right down to their bones. The first Witchers didn’t take contracts, because no humans would even speak with them. They just wandered around until they found a monster to kill, and then moved on to the next. Eventually, people started to realize that Witchers were only killing monsters, and leaving humans be, so they slowly started reaching out for help.”

“Ungrateful sods, the lot of them,” Jaskier mutters, and hears Geralt’s quiet huff of laughter in response.

“You’re. You’re so special, do you know that?” Jaskier jerks his head up in surprise to see Geralt’s eyes on his face, liquid gold lit like sunrise by the light of the fire, a tiny smile playing around his lips. “You’ve never been afraid of me. Not once. Not even when the only things you knew about me were that I scowled a lot and I had two very scary swords.” Jaskier flushes at the reminder of the babble that spilled out of his mouth the moment he laid eyes on the single most attractive person he had ever seen in his 18 years of life.

He drops his eyes, knowing there’s no hiding the blush on his cheeks but ignoring it as hard as he can anyway. “What’s there to be scared of? You’re a puppy, not a wolf.” He expects a grumble, or a glare, or for Geralt to ignore him completely. Certainly not the bark of laughter that would have woken Ciri were it not for Yen’s charm. He stares at Geralt’s face, firelight flickering over pale skin, honest joy written in the curve of his mouth, and grins back helplessly.

“You’re the only one who’s ever thought that. Except maybe Eskel.” He laughs again, more quietly this time, then sobers slightly. “Humans are afraid of us. They always have been. Less now, since you,” he squeezes Jaskier’s hand again and Jaskier flushes even darker, “but the first Witchers were barely more than feral, and that impression…stuck. Humanity never got past it. Even when new generations of Witchers were made, when we became something closer to men than to monsters, their fear never went away. Any emotion, even the faintest irritation, was enough to make most humans think a Witcher was about to go berserk, to start tearing out the throats of anyone who got too close. So, we learned to shut them down.”

His eyes are downcast now, and Jaskier thinks of a tiny Geralt, just a boy, younger than Ciri, excited about the world, curious and clever and mischievous, thinks about him learning to hide his heart away until even he couldn’t find it anymore, and he wants to scream. He wants to cry, he wants to rage, he wants to find every human who ever judged a Witcher by his eyes and not his deeds and mount their heads on spikes. He wants to tear out their hearts and make them watch as he throws them on the pyre, burning them out like so many boys were made to burn out their own.

Geralt can smell his turmoil, he knows, and he clings to the comfort offered when he holds Jaskier’s hand as tightly as he can without hurting him, still tracing circles into his skin with his thumb.

“It isn’t safe, to have feelings. Humans may spit on a mutant with a heart of stone, but they’ll hunt and kill a monster with teeth they think will harm them. It’s safer to be cold, to be hard. To let all of it roll off of us like snow off a mountain. And after a while, you forget how to be anything else. You forget that it’s a lie, that it’s something you had to learn. You start to believe it too.” There are tears dripping off of Jaskier’s nose now, but he doesn’t dare interrupt again. “I had forgotten, until you.”

He looks at Jaskier with such naked feeling in his fiery eyes that Jaskier can’t fathom how anyone could believe this man has no heart. “You made me feel. You walked into my life and just-“ He huffs another low laugh, the faraway look on his face impossibly fond. “You just didn’t listen to a fucking thing I said. Ever! Not once! And it drove me up the godsdamned wall. I was going out of my mind, I was so fucking annoyed. You never stopped talking, or singing, or playing that damn lute, you never stayed out of the way on hunts like I told you to, you ignored me whenever I said I didn’t have feelings or I didn’t need anyone or we weren’t friends. And you wouldn’t leave! You just kept coming back, no matter how much of an arse I was, even when I acted in ways that would have made other humans shit themselves, or come after me with torches and pitchforks, or both. You just kept coming back, and you kept not believing me when I told you I was a monster, and you never smelled fucking afraid, and after a while I realized that irritated wasn’t the only thing you made me feel anymore.”

He seems to withdraw into himself a little, his shoulders hunching and his head hanging slightly. He tries to withdraw his hand, but Jaskier isn’t sure he can get through this conversation without it, so he hopes Geralt will forgive him for pushing yet more boundaries and simply holds onto him tighter.

Geralt sighs again, but stops pulling away. “But there’s still so much shit in the world. There are so many humans who hate me, or fear me, or try to cheat me, or who end up being monsters worse than the ones they want me to kill, and the problem with having it smacked over my head that I do actually have feelings, is that it makes it so much harder to ignore them. And there’s so much anger in me, Jaskier, and grief, and loneliness. And I can’t ever show it to anyone, or it will confirm everything they think they know about me. It will make me a monster. It will make me the Butcher all over again.” He looks up again, his expression anguished. “You’re the only one who’s safe. You’re the only one I can be angry around, or sad, or scared, or just annoyed, without thinking the worst of me. You’re the only one who ever comes back.”

Jaskier is back to feeling like his heart is being fed through a sieve, but he thinks he understands what Geralt is trying to say this time. He feels a renewed rush of guilt for assuming the worst of him before. Is he any better than the rest, jumping to the foulest possible conclusion while Geralt wrestles with his tongue to try and make him understand? He turns his head away, closing his eyes against the tears and trying to breathe through the shame.

Fingers grip his chin gently and coax his head back until he’s looking into Geralt’s slitted eyes again. The look on his face is so soft, so open, that Jaskier feels like his ribs are being pried apart at the sight of it. “You have no idea how much of a blessing you have actually been in my life, Jaskier,” and those words just crack his chest wide open and bare his heart to the whole room, don’t they? “I took advantage of you. I wanted so badly to have someone in my life I could show all the darkest parts of myself to, without them running away, that I forgot to show you the rest. And I forgot to help carry your darkness in return. I left you with such a burden, Jaskier, and you never once complained or asked me to help. You have done nothing but give, for as long as I’ve known you, and I wish I could show you how sorry I am that I was content for so long just to take.” Jaskier is pretty sure he’s openly sobbing now, but Geralt is sliding his hand up from his chin to cup his cheek, sweeping the tears away with his thumb, so it’s probably ok.

“Let me make it up to you, Jaskier. Let me be the one to give to you for once. Let me carry your burdens for a while. Let me give you a reason to forgive me. A reason to come back.” His eyes are pools of molten gold, wide and dark and shining with- emotion. An emotion. Jaskier isn’t going to hazard a guess at which emotion, because he isn’t sure he can handle the answer.

“I’ve already forgiven you, you great lummox. For all of it. A safe place is all I ever wanted to be for you. I only ever wanted to give you a home. Like you gave me. Just- just share it with me next time, please? The anger, or the fear? Share it with me first, instead of letting it fester and burn us both. That’s all I need from you.”

Geralt’s hand on his cheek guides him forward until their faces are inches from each other, foreheads resting together. Jaskier’s eyes want to close but he can’t bear to look away, too afraid this is all an impossible dream that will disappear as soon as he opens them again. He can see the way the firelight glimmers off his silver hair, the scars through his eyebrow, the tears clinging to his eyelashes as they sweep gently over his cheeks. He’s never seen anything so beautiful in his life.

“I don’t know if I’ve ever deserved you, but I would do anything for the chance to try to be someone who does. I’m yours, Jaskier. You need only say you’ll have me.”

Jaskier is a man of words. He’s a bard, words are his trade, his weapons, the blood in his veins. No matter what else is happening around him, no matter what he has or what he’s lost or what needs to be done, there are always words ready to spring forth from him like water from a spigot. He has never, in all his life, been out of words.

Until now.

Fuck it.

Geralt’s lips are softer than he imagined, given that his skincare routine seems to consist primarily of monster innards. But they’re soft and they’re warm and they move so gently against Jaskier’s that he thinks he might simply melt into a puddle, to be absorbed into the earth and never seen again. The kiss is tender, and sweet, and longing, and not at all how he imagined his first kiss with Geralt would be. It’s perfect. Jaskier breaks it with a watery laugh, keeping his forehead pressed to Geralt’s.

Somehow his free hand has found its way back into Geralt’s silky hair, and he threads his fingers deeper into the moonlit locks and hopes he’ll never have to let go.

“You’re mine?” He knows he sounds a little pleading, disbelief coloring his tone, but he can’t help it. He’s had this dream so many times, he needs to be sure it’s real this time. “Really?”

“Really, little lark.” Geralt is smiling just as wide as Jaskier is, his cheeks just as damp. “I’ve always been yours, I was just too stupid to admit it. I won’t make that mistake again. I love you. I’ll never leave you behind again, not for the rest of your life, if you’ll let me.”

And, oh, there’s a conversation they should maybe have, because after all the revelations of tonight, Jaskier is fairly sure Geralt thinks he’s completely human, and is probably in pain over his supposed mortality. At some point before they go to sleep Jaskier will mention it, because apparently Geralt hasn’t noticed that his face hasn’t changed a lick in 25 years, the stubble he wears these days notwithstanding.

Because Geralt is a ridiculous, incredible, oblivious, stupid, wonderful fool, and Jaskier loves him so much he can hardly breathe. So he tells him so. The rest can wait.

[justleaf]

Thought this little event would be a perfect opportunity to get my writing gears started again. Ilu @witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo.

Quite thankfully Iorveth/Roche were under 500 fics when I looked (and contributed HEHEHEH), and I've also sprinkled in 2 other tiny pairings.

Words: 400

Pairings: Iorveth/Roche, Ciri/Cerys, Roche/Ciri

Warnings: Mentions of sex

Tags: Bisexual characters, mentions of a one-night stand, teeny bit of alcoholism and smoking

Prompts used: Mistaken for a couple, Accidental confession of feelings, Reminds me of you, Cuddling/Snuggling

From the drunks at the tavern to Lambert in the dungeon, Vesemir had heard his fair share of rowdy individuals. But the commotion that the two were causing were of a completely different pedigree.

So with a stern expression and his hands on his hips, he marched out into the light of the courtyard.

“Will you two lovebirds quit it?!”

Roche stopped mid-yell and Iorveth stared at him with pure horror.  For a moment Vesemir was taken aback - was he that scary?

“We’re not a couple,” Roche murmured, then swiftly turned heel and left.

Oh.

He had been so sure.

Iorveth cracked his knuckles, more than ready to pick the argument right back up from where that old witcher had cut it short.

He knew where he’d find Vernon - off smoking on the other side of Kaer Morhen, with a bottle of Temerian Rye to stave off his demons.

He slammed the door wide open for the extra theatrics, but when he cast his eye on the d’hoine sat on the moon-drenched balcony, the words died in his throat. His mind felt numb.

“What do you want?” Vernon rasped, his expression lax and the red high on his cheekbones.

“You.”

“There’s one more thing about Kaer Morhen I didn’t tell you about,” Ciri blurted out.

They were laid on Cerys’ generous chaise, empty glasses in hand and emptier bottles of wine strewn about them.

“Sounds scandalous, do tell.”

“I slept with one of Geralt’s friends.”

“No way! Who was he?”

“Vernon Roche, don’t know if you’ve heard of him. He had trouble getting it up and needed a bath, but it was a good time.”

“Good with his hands and mouth, I presume?”

“Certainly. Reminded me of you.”

“I’m sure I can do better.”

Ciri smirked.

“Shall we find out?”

“You’ve slept with Princess Cirilla,” Iorveth brought up one cold spring evening.

“Where did you hear that.”

“The word spread after the Temerian-Nilfgaardian Assembly. Cirilla asked after you, and when Emhyr asked how she was acquainted, she proclaimed: ‘we’ve fucked’.”

Roche sunk into the pillow, consumed by embarrassment.

“Day after we kissed on the balcony. She was interested. I wanted to see if I still liked women.”

“You’re so stupid,” Iorveth chuckled, but wrapped an arm around his waist and pulled him closer anyway.

“You still chose me,” Roche grumbled, but tangled their legs together and sunk into his embrace.

[bambirex]

It's A Game We Play: Chapter 4

Pairings: Geraskier, Yennskier, Radskier

Characters: Jaskier, Geralt of Rivia, Yennefer of Vengerberg, Radovid, original female characters, Essi Daven, Priscilla, Ciri of Cintra, Valdo Marx

Additional tags: inspired by Mamma Mia! (movies,), crack, alpha/beta/omega dynamics, omega jaskier, alpha geralt, alpha yennefer, beta radovid, awkwardness, jaskier is a good parent, protective jaskier, weddings, found family, post mpreg, fluff and humor, alternate universe- modern setting, jaskier is having the worst time of his life, valdo is here to make everything worse, confusion, banter

Rating: teen and up audiences

Full word count: 10,713 words

Chapter word count: 3,324 words

Chapters: 4/?

Summary: Jaskier's daughter is about to marry the love of her life, and she decides she wants both her parents at her wedding. Only problem is that Jaskier has slept with a little too many people in his youth, so the identity of the other parent is a mystery. That does not stop the bride-to-be from inviting three potential daddy candidates and unleashing absolute chaos in the process.

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Otherwise known as Jaskier's terrible horrible no good past decisions leading to terrible horrible no good outcomes. Also known as the Mamma Mia! AU nobody asked for, but I wrote it anyway.

Chapter summary: Running into familiar, unwanted faces and meeting weirdly eager strangers.

Author's notes: Chapter title speaks for itself, since this question will pop up during this chapter many times. I liked the suggestions in my comment section about Geralt, Yennefer and Radovid knowing each other so much, that I decided to work that in, thanks for the idea!!!! I am also bringing you all a beloved beloathed character, and Amaryllis's big meeting with the "daddies" as well.

Read on Ao3

*

If someone told Yennefer just a week prior that she would literally drop everything and get herself an emergency sabbatical from the bistro, and she would force herself through a nearly four hours long ferry ride, all because she received a mysterious letter from someone she's slept with twenty years ago, she would've called them a fucking moron.

Yet, there she was, staring at the waves licking the side of the ferry as they made their way over the sea. Yennefer put her elbows on the railing with a deep sigh. She closed her eyes as she breathed in the salty air. Twenty years ago, she was traveling across the sea just like she was doing it now, full of youthful energy and hope. She had none of that now. She was just anxious as all hell, because seriously, what could Jaskier possibly want from her? How was she even supposed to react when she saw him standing on the docks, waiting for her? How was she supposed to greet him, what should she ask? How was she supposed to cope with the fact that she had to face someone like that from her past?

"Yennefer?"

As Yennefer turned around fast, the wind blew all of her hair into her face. She cursed and sputtered as she tried her best to remove it from her mouth and eyes.

When she finally came face to face with the person who called out for her, Yennefer suddenly felt the urge to throw herself off the ferry and into the water.

“Geralt,” she hissed, her eyes widening, “what the fuck are you doing here?”

Geralt cleared his throat awkwardly, a habit that he seemed to never have abandoned since Yennefer last saw him. Her and Geralt had dated about ten years ago, and for a while, Yennefer was convinced that maybe he could be the one. She was wrong, like she always was, about every person she dated. Geralt wasn’t a bad person, not by any means, and Yennefer did love him. But maybe two Alphas were just never meant to work out; their too similar personalities soon led to constant fighting, which lead to a not very nice breakup, during which Yennefer told Geralt he was a ball-less coward who really needed to get off his high horse, and Geralt called Yennefer a control freak with anger issues.

And now, to make this already weird and frustrating situation ever worse, here he was, staring at Yennefer with that constipated look on his face.

“It’s nice to see you too, Yen,” Geralt grumbled, arms crossed over his chest. Yennefer scoffed.

“Don’t call me that.”

“I was hoping we could have a civil conversation, but clearly, I was wrong. I just wanted to say hello.”

“Okay, you did. Goodbye.”

“Yennefer,” Geralt sighed, “let’s not be childish, okay?”

Yennefer gripped the railing again to stop herself from committing a crime that would’ve earned her a life sentence.

“Oh, yeah, says the man who’s allergic to commitment, and drops everyone like a hot potato the second things turn serious!”

“Yeah, because you handled everything so maturely,” Geralt growled, “you were only looking for flaws in everything, of course you found them!”

“Did you come here to antagonize me?” Yennefer spat. “You should have just ignored me.”

Geralt deflated at that, somewhat. There was a small, barely-there smile at the corner of his lips. Yennefer hated to admit, but it was still stupidly attractive.

“You’re right, I’m sorry,” Geralt said, his voice much softer. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Same. So, what are you doing here, Geralt?”

Before Geralt could answer, a teenage girl rushed over to them, knocking into Geralt so hard it looked painful. Her ashen blonde hair was mussed from the wind, and her grin was mischievous.

“Dad,” she called out with a giggle, and Yennefer’s eyebrows shot up to her hairline. Dad!?

“I’m gonna drive a Bentley!”

“What?” Geralt turned to her with utter confusion. Yennefer was pretty sure she was going to pass out and into the sea.

“I never said that you could drive it!” Came a voice from behind the cackling girl. “I just said that you could see it if we reached land!”

A tall man with long, reddish-blond hair approached them with a huff. He looked utterly miserable, which might have had something to do with the seagull shit that covered the shoulder of his clearly expensive silk shirt. He looked familiar. Yennefer narrowed her eyes as she stared at him, trying to figure out where she knew him from.

Geralt blinked at the man with a similarly confused expression. “I’m sorry, do you know my daughter that you’re offering her a car show, or should I call the police?”

“Did you just accuse me of… rude!” The man huffed. “She walked up to me and asked me if the Bentley was mine! I wasn’t gonna send her away!”

“It’s a nice car,” the girl chirped, seemingly uncaring of the adults’ impending brawl. “Can I get a driving license, Dad? I’ve driven your car before, I’d do good!”

“I’m sorry,” Yennefer interrupted them, “Geralt? She’s you daughter?”

Geralt gave her a wounded look. “Yennefer… she’s Ciri. My daughter.”

Yennefer opened her mouth then quickly shut it again before she said something that wasn’t meant to be heard by a child. Geralt used to insist he could never have a family of his own. That he would be a shit dad, and children were too much hassle. He clearly found Yennefer’s desire for kids weird and unnecessary. And here he was, with a kid- a kid that was clearly a teenager. Holy shit, he had a kid while he dated her, he must have had a partner he cheated on with Yennefer, then. He made her into a homewrecker. Yennefer was going to kill someone today.

Ciri nodded towards her with a grin. “Nice to meet you! I like your dress!”

“Thanks…”

“Wait,” the blond guy turned towards Yennefer, “I know you!”

Oh, no. Now that Yennefer took one more look at him, it became obvious where she met him. It was the evening she officially ruined her career as a chef, and she was pretty much exiled to cook at a cheap bistro. She had to cater at some expensive business party, and she was so nervous around all the stuck-up suits, that she messed up the meal, big time. And that guy was there, his stubble was a little thinner and his eyes were a lot less stern back then, but Yennefer recognized him. He was the first to spit out her stew, which then drew attention to the mistake she’s made.

“You put sugar in the stew instead of salt,” the guy said, “it tasted like cake smothered in grease.”

“It wasn’t as bad as you all claimed!” Yennefer snapped. “But your spoiled ass had to make such a frenzy about it! You’re the reason I’m still cooking at a shithole bistro!”

“Oh, thank the stars, that’s better for everyone.”

“Wait,” Geralt said, cutting off the mighty string of curses Yennefer was about to throw. “I know you, too. You have that company. And a tarantula.”

“Huh?” The man turned to Geralt. His eyes widened. “Oh, wait, I remember you too! We met at the vet. Your foal tried to eat my shirt and it also jumped out of your hands and started wreaking havoc in the waiting room!”

“And you were so convinced that your tarantula was more important than my sick horse that you ran in before me! It probably wasn’t even sick, you just didn’t know how to take care of an animal properly.”

“You leave Franz Joseph out of this!” The man yelled, pointing a finger at Geralt’s chest. “He was very sick!”

“Who’s Franz Joseph?” Ciri whispered to Yennefer. Yennefer shook her head, which was quickly growing dizzy.

“Okay, alright,” Geralt sighed deeply. “Your pet has nothing to do with your own arrogance. How’s, uh, Franz Joseph, by the way?”

“He’s dead.”

“Shit. Sorry about that.”

“Alright, will anyone tell me what the fuck is going on?” Yennefer huffed. “Geralt, have you had a kid all along? While you were dating me? Was that why you said you could never have one with me?”

“Maybe not in front of Ciri,” Geralt tried. Ciri narrowed her eyes at him.

“You two dated?”

Geralt released a long-suffering, deep sigh. “Yeah. Some time ago. Yennefer, I adopted Ciri four years ago. She is my daughter, but we haven’t met while we were together. Okay?”

“Okay, and why are you headed to Thanedd?”

“Why are you?”

“I… I got a letter from someone, it’s an emergency, or whatever, I had to drop everything at home, I’m really fed up already, and you are not helping!”

“What,” Geralt’s voice wavered slightly, “a letter? You too?”

“A hand-written letter?” The other guy chimed in, his face turning pale. “From someone on Thanedd? About… a life and death situation?”

“Yes?”

“Who wrote to you,” Geralt asked, his eyes widening with panic, which made Yennefer’s nerves even worse. Yennefer grabbed the railing again, this time to not faint.

“An old love… I mean, someone I knew. Is this an interrogation?”

“You started it,” rich guy reminded her. “And this someone, who sent you a letter… he’s not called Jaskier, by chance?”

“How do you know him,” Geralt growled dangerously as he turned towards the other man. They were about the same height, but he still seemed to tower over him. Yennefer could feel the angry Alpha pheromones oozing off him. It made her feel even more snappish, not to mention that possessive flare upon hearing someone else knowing Jaskier. Her Jaskier.

“Control yourself,” the man warned him, “your child is standing right there next to you.”

“Don’t bring me into this!” Ciri huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in a way that was so similar to Geralt’s. “I have zero idea what’s going on, I’m just enjoying the free show.”

“Why would Jaskier write to you,” Geralt continued, lowering his voice slightly. “Who are you to him…?”

“Radovid,” the guy helped him out with a sigh. His eyes narrowed to slits. “And how do you know him?”

“He wrote to all of us!?” Yennefer asked in horror. “What… why the fuck would he do that?”

They all stared at each other. Geralt chewed on his lip, his brows furrowed in distress. Radovid stared at his feet, stiff like a statue. Ciri looked from one to the other, both confused and clearly entertained by the mess she ended up in the middle of.

Yennefer turned back towards the sea and groaned. It wasn’t enough that she had to worry about what Jaskier needed of her after all this time, now she had to face the fact that her ex, and a random guy was also here, and they all got the same letter, apparently.

She really should have thrown that letter away.

--

Probably everyone thought Amaryllis was insane, what with the way she was pacing up and down on the docks, muttering to herself to calm her nerves. She couldn’t possibly know if her plan worked at all. There was a chance their address changed, and none of them received her letter, or if they did, they could have just ignored it. After all, twenty years have passed since then, what were the odds they would leave their homes so abruptly to come see Jaskier?

Amaryllis could only hope that her Papa left a mark on them deep enough that they would want to find out what he (well, Amaryllis) wanted. She knew her father was a remarkable and loveable guy, but she didn’t know how the other three were. She could only go off on the descriptions in the diary, hence why she was nervous if she would recognize them at all.

By the time the ferry arrived, Amaryllis was a hair’s breadth away from passing out. She watched the cars roll down, then the people walk off, her heart beating at an abnormal speed all the while. What was the chance she would get a heart attack right now? She pressed her fingers against her neck to feel her pulse. Oh, God, she was going to explode from anxiety.

Amaryllis craned her neck to see over the crowd that milled around the docks, trying to find faces similar to the descriptions. She really did hope no one went through a drastic style change that made them look entirely different.

The crowd cleared a little, and Amaryllis noticed a shiny white car- a Bentley.

He is literally blonde Prince Charming, not on a white horse, but in a white Bentley.

Amaryllis’s breath hitched in her throat as she approached the car slowly, her palms growing clammy with sweat. What were the chances the car was the same, that it was Radovid’s?

Once she reached the car, she was greeted with a girl somewhat younger than her, who grinned at her brightly.

“Nice car, isn’t it?” She asked proudly. “It’s mine!”

“No, it isn’t… whatever. Let the kids have fun.”

Amaryllis turned towards the voice. She gasped at the sight of a tall, lean man, with blond hair, dressed in expensive clothes there were only somewhat dulled by the smear that suspiciously looked like bird poop. It had to be him.

“Radovid,” Amaryllis breathed out. The man’s eyes widened comically.

“Do we know each other?”

“It’s you…”

“I’m sorry, how do you…?”

Amaryllis wobbled on her feet when a broad, white-haired man stood next to the teenage girl who declared Radovid’s car her own.

“Geralt…?”

“What? How do you know my name?”

“Okay, I genuinely don’t know what’s going on, but…”

Amaryllis turned towards the female voice, and yes, indeed, there was Yennefer. She couldn’t believe her luck.

“Yennefer,” she whispered, causing the woman to stare at her like she just massacred her entire family.

“Do you know my name too?” The young girl laughed. Amaryllis sent her an apologetic smile.

“Alright, this is strange,” Geralt noted, “how do you know us?”

“I… huh. Lord. This is weird, I know. Bear with me, okay?” Amaryllis bit her lip, trying to hold back an excited squeal. “My name is Amaryllis Pankratz.”

“Pankratz!?” They all yelled in unison. Amaryllis grinned. They remembered her Papa.

“Yes. I’m Jaskier’s daughter.”

She had never seen faces turn so white all at once. Geralt practically wasn’t even breathing. Radovid closed his eyes. Yennefer’s jaw literally dropped. The teenage girl grinned in delight.

“Jaskier has a daughter,” Yennefer whispered. She looked Amaryllis up and down, recognition lighting up in her eyes. “Shit. You look just like him. I should have known.”

“Yeah, do you know how many times I got the ‘oh, did Jaskier went back in time and turned into a girl’ joke?” Amaryllis chuckled. She swallowed in embarrassment when no one laughed. “Erm…so, yeah, Jaskier is my father. And I know you guys all know him, and I know you don’t know me, but… ugh, this is difficult! We gotta get to know each other a little better before my wedding.”

“Before the what?” Geralt asked. Amaryllis chuckled nervously.

“Yeah, so I’m getting married and I kinda need one of you to be at the wedding, but first I need to figure out which one of you should be there, because I think one of you is… shit!”

Amaryllis turned pale when she spotted Jaskier in the distance. He was luckily not facing them as he was walking towards the market, but she couldn’t risk him seeing his old lovers there before Amaryllis had a chance to talk to them.

“Trust me,” she practically begged the bewildered group, “and follow me, okay?”

Before any of them could protest, Amaryllis practically shoved them all towards the cars, away from Jaskier. The teenage girl went with them, and while Amaryllis wasn’t sure who she was, she kind of liked her already.

They would all have plenty of time to get to know each other, if everything went well.

--

Jaskier was contemplating which watermelon to pick when he felt a hand brush his side gently. He jumped, dropping both melons on the ground. They smashed on the asphalt, coating his new shoes in juice.

“Thanks for this,” Jaskier groaned as he stared at the mess on the ground, “I will not be paying for these, but you will!”

He looked up to see who touched him. The breath caught in his throat, and his head started swimming right away. He wobbled on his feet for a second, before he let out a mighty “what the fuck are you doing here, you ghoul!?”

“Oh, Jaskier,” came the snarky laugh in response, “you did not change one bit.”

What terrible sin Jaskier must have committed against the gods that they brought Valdo Marx, the bane of his existence, his formal rival, his archnemesis, the curse of his life, to the peaceful little island he lived on!?

“What are you doing here,” Jaskier huffed, hands on his hips, “I thought you were in jail for being a sex offender or something.”

“You wish,” Valdo grinned. He raked his eyes over Jaskier with an appreciative hum. “Look at you. You look lovely, still. Gained some weight, but that’s par for the course after having a child, isn’t it?”

“It takes me approximately one second to grab one more melon and bash your head in with it,” Jaskier warned him. Valdo laughed heartily.

“Oh, come on, now, Jaskier, don’t be so hostile! It looks good on you. You look gorgeous, was what I was trying to say, and yet, here you are, threatening me with assault.”

“Stop with the fake compliments,” Jaskier spat, “what the hell are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be playing shit music with your band of disgraced theater kids?”

“Another thing that didn’t change: your deaf ears. We’re playing plenty, don’t worry. That’s actually why I’m here.”

“What?”

“Oh, haven’t you heard?” Valdo grinned mischievously. “A certain Mrs. Cooper is best friends with our manager. And he offered her a lovely band, ours, to play at her daughter’s wedding.”

“No,” was all Jaskier was able to say when he realized Valdo was talking about the mother of Amaryllis’s fiancée. Valdo laughed again, enjoying the horrified look on Jaskier’s face.

“Congratulations! I’ve heard Sara is marrying your daughter! Can’t wait to meet the lovely brides.”

“You. Are. Not. Playing. At. My. Daughter’s. Wedding!” Jaskier growled, emphasizing every single word. Valdo tutted at him condescendingly.

“Oh, don’t be like that! It’s going to be lovely! You can give your daughter away to the sound of my beautiful singing, doesn’t that sound good? You’ll get to watch me bask in the glory while you cry in the background. Just like old times.”

Jaskier let out a scream as he grabbed another watermelon off the stand. Valdo ducked away just in time before his head collided with the large fruit.

“See you around, Jaskier,” Valdo chuckled. The bastard had the audacity to grab his hand and kiss his knuckles, making Jaskier let out a sound that he didn’t realize he was able to make. He rushed away before Jaskier could attempt to murder him one more time.

“You’re gonna pay for all the melons you smashed, I hope you know that!” The clerk yelled at him. Jaskier nodded with a sigh of defeat.

His hands shook as he fished his money out of his wallet. This couldn’t be real. He must have been experiencing a terrible nightmare, and he would wake up soon.

He would have to come up with a plan to make sure Valdo wouldn’t get to make a mess at Amaryllis’s wedding. Jaskier won’t let that happen, that was for sure.

At least things couldn’t get worse in the meantime, he reassured himself as he walked home.

[fangirleaconmigo]

My problem with s2 arc for Yen is that all the things you beautifully described that makes Yen Yen were undone by her betrayal. They spend the first half of the season to show us that Yen is more than her magic, she didnt even need magic to win a powerful mage but then with two simple soldiers she's powerless and needs baba yaga and then at no point she can outsmart voleth meir? She didn't even had her in a spell or anything, it was simple: do that and get your power back and at no point Yen, after meeting Geralt and Ciri, couldn't fight it? That makes her weak, the opposite of what the first episodes showed us and we know that Yennefer is. Also the fact that she showed her good heart with everyone in s2 but the two people that were supposed to mean everything in the world for her, is imo the ultimate book Yen betrayal from the writers. Maybe they'll work on that in s3, maybe now i'm mad with the writers and I don't have the patience to see where this is going but I doubt they are talented enough to write a great original story so to deviate from the book to give us this makes me angry. And her sacrifice at the end didn't felt genuine for some reason (bad writing). And I still wonder why, show Yen - like every character in the show - was different from book Yen in s1 too but she was so well written, you could feel everything she felt but that was gone in s2. Lauren said that they didn't know what to do with Yen in s2 and that was shown. Hopefully now that in s3 they have a clearer idea of her story they'll do better. Sorry for the rant and I hope I didn't bother you a lot.

No, nonny, you didn't bother me at all.

Can you guys tell I'm catching up on asks?

This was in response to my post on how TWN S2 treated the women characters. It was mostly positive, with a few critical things.

Again, since there is critique in it (along with the praise, it is balanced) I'm going to tag twn critical.

PLEASE MUTE TWN CRITICAL IF YOU DON'T WANT TO SEE

Yes, even though I loved a lot of Yen's story, I agree that the Voleth Meir and Ciri decision didn't work.

It wasn't about them changing Yen from canon (tho that hurt), it was about their own story not working. For me, Yen's Voleth Meir decision, to bring Ciri to her and endanger Ciri (changing her mind too late), was in conflict with the first part of her development, and that is part of why it didn't work for me.

For example, they show you Yen upset and wanting her magic back because she sees a little girl being taken and she is powerless to help her.

So, the narrative is establishing that she does care and she does want to help, and she wants to protect little girls SO MUCH that she wants her magic back.

So. Then. If at least part of her motivation is her anguish that little girls are being harmed, how does that follow that she almost throws a little girl to Voleth Meir to get her power back? It doubles back on itself. It wants to have its cake and eat it too, so to speak.

It isn't IMPOSSIBLE to get there but it's thematically weak storytelling for me.

You know how some story telling and character development is thematically so cohesive and you completely understand why they do what they do to the point where it's almost tragic sometimes because you're like...that decision is bad, but I know where that character comes from and what their flaws are, so I know this is almost inevitable? You know how you get like a rush from storytelling that good?

That just wasn't it for me.

I'm with you on that one.

And I also agree that they have gone out of their way to develop Yen as someone who, when faced with an A) and B) choices, says "Actually, I'll take F) for Fuck you" and I love that, that is exactly who she is, but then her Voleth Meir decision didn't fit that either.

It just felt jammed in. And yeah, I don't think it's possible to undo and get the relationship we would want between them, at least not in a way that is satisfying and authentic.

But I will be watching, and we shall see. I want them to do my Yenny boo right ffs.

[touchmycoat]

the Witcher fic recs (Nov 2022)

look I've seen at most 4 and a half episodes of the Netflix series, read two chapters of the first book, and seen three stills from the games. This is very much a fandom-first engagement for me. That being said I was talking to roommate about how much we love and miss fic rec lists, hence.

The Road Not Taken by sospes

Summary: Jaskier comes across an injured witcher in a backwoods town, months after the events of the dragon hunt. It all just sort of escalates from there.

Read this all in one breath; Eskel & Jaskier friendship, Lambert/Jaskier one-night-stand, Geralt's emotional constipation refuses to be relieved until close to the end. Love the Jaskier characterization where he's hurt but practical but vulnerable but capable. So well done, and I would rec the author's other fics too: the tattoo fic, the Jaskier gangbang series, this noncon fic, the wolf!Jaskier fic, etc.

lessons in mouse-catching by foghornjazz

Summary: They say cats have nine lives, but truthfully Jaskier has long lost count of his. Jaskier has always been very good at playing pretend. It gets harder after Geralt’s harsh words on the mountain. It gets harder still when he has to save a rogue Wolf and his Child Surprise from Nilfgaard’s gathering forces.

Dear god, immortal!cat witcher!Jaskier with all the delicious torture whump that this set-up necessitates. Very much a plot fic, super fucking well-written and haunting and kept me on my toes 'til the end—the reveal with the lake really took me out at the knees and had me weeping. Aiden!! Thematic!! Character arcs!! Cannot rec this series enough. Author also has a wonderful EMT!Geralt disaster!Jaskier fic and a delightful football!AU.

Too Much by kalamatri

Summary: Jaskier has always known he loves in a way that is too much. He gives too much of himself, and wants too much in return. Post mountain break-up, Jaskier starts to doubt his value, attempts to drink Novigrad dry and makes the biggest mistake of his life: getting back with his abusive shit of an ex, Valdo Marx.

Buddy, oh fucking boy. You wanna talk about the abusive relationships tag. You wanna talk about a well-paced and devastating descent into emotional, physical, financial, and sexual abuse and then the well-paced and devastating ascent back out. You wanna talk about a fic that blew my fucking mind. I love Lambert in this and how specific his dynamic is with Jaskier. Jaskier gets absolutely fucked up but makes his way back to life, he fucking survives. This fic is so goddamn good.

Emissary by Janekfan

Summary: The way north is being cleared for Geralt and Ciri. Geralt has to reconcile with some new truths about Jaskier.

viper witcher!Jaskier, in which even Geralt buys into age-old prejudice at first. The physical manifestation of the emotional angst is blistering, and I love that getting to Kaer Morhen wasn't the fix-all.

Soap, and the Scents of Home by round_robin

Summary: “Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt mumbled against Jaskier's neck. “Next winter, come with me.” He sat up, hoping Jaskier might see the earnest request in his eyes.

PORN REC. This whole series is just, chef's kiss. Fics where Jaskier develops relations with every witcher is my bread and butter, especially where touch-starved witchers are involved. Special shout out to the way this fic made me so hot under the collar with Geralt just openly banging Jaskier in the hot springs under the guise of "there's no privacy anyway," pretty much daring Eskel and Lambert to take some for themselves, hello.

Kill Me Softly by safiraneo

Summary: Jaskier isn't exactly happy to dig himself out of his own grave. In fact, he'd very much like to go back in it. Unfortunately, Destiny has other plans.

Dark humor with dead!Jaskier. Eskel takes him back to Kaer Morhen to figure out how to kill him permanently. I grinned and groaned at Geralt the entire way through.

for the rest of my lifelong days by twitcher

Summary: "Goddess," Jaskier says quietly, almost privately, except that his lips hover temptingly close to Eskel's. "You do look just like him, if it wasn't for—" "The disfigured maw?" Eskel adds helpfully, out of habit if nothing else. Jaskier puts a gentle hand on his cheek—the scarred one, gods save his soul—and Eskel leans into the touch involuntarily, like a dog starved for affection. "I was going to say the hair," Jaskier finishes with a hint of kind amusement, and winks.

Short-ish threesome fic that goes through all the emotional beats I want~ I've read a lot of fics that overdo the terms of endearment but this one works for me, I'm very very endeared, and I like the Eskel focus.

a soldier (who carries a mighty sword) by ghostinthelibrary

Summary: Fifteen years after Kaer Morhen became an independent city state and refuge for non-humans, Geralt— who somehow got elected its leader, despite his best intentions— is bewildered when King Vizimir of Redania suggests an arranged marriage between Geralt and his nephew. Eskel is a simple witcher who just wants to live out his retirement from the Path with Geralt. So when his lover gets betrothed to some Redanian viscount, Eskel dons a human disguise and decides to get away from Kaer Morhen for a while. Jaskier has no interest in becoming the husband of the infamous White Wolf; he just wants to be a bard. When he flees the guards escorting him to Kaer Morhen, he’s lucky enough to run into Eskel, a hunter who agrees to escort him to safety. But after only a few days in Eskel’s company, he’s half in love. When Jaskier is forced to go to Kaer Morhen to escape a bounty on his head, he finds the city nothing like the nest of monsters he expected. Meanwhile, Jaskier is nothing like what Geralt and Eskel expected.

Who doesn't love identity hijinks? The set-up is delicious; I'm obsessed with the "oh this man who saved me who is my hero at no benefit to himself is actually the lover of the lord I'm meant to marry, ah, he just wanted me out of the way" reveal that's not actually true but also not not-true enough. The whole series is very well-done!

A history of dragons in popular culture by deputychairman Innermost Depths by bomberqueen17

These two get recced together because they take on the same concept: where Yennefer & Jaskier become drinking buddies after the dragon hunt breakup bitch about Geralt and accidentally on purpose sleep together and instead of playing Despacito he writes a song for her not to make Geralt jealous you understand!

Yennefer/Jaskier makes me feel all sorts of things and these have such good dynamics.

The Path Ahead by EvanHart

Summary: Geralt knows almost immediately that he’s made a mistake when he sends Jaskier away on that godforsaken mountain. He just doesn’t wholly understand why, and by the time he does it’s too late to change things. Instead, he goes and finds Ciri, and together they find Yennefer, and only then does he realise he needs to find Jaskier, too. He hadn’t counted on Nilfgaard finding him first.

The Nilfgaard torture fic where Geralt refuses to believe Jaskier has anything more than a childish infatuation with him (despite 20 years on the road). He hears "Her Sweet Kiss" and kind of goes through it. Yennefer portals "somewhere safe" and that's apparently into Jaskier's care. A classic & well-executed genre of Witcher fic.

A Tale of Two Bards (and also a Witcher) by ForestWren

Summary: Maglor has been wandering the shoreline for literal millennia. He hadn't heard another voice in almost as long. He is, understandably, quite disoriented when a loud human interrupts his perfectly peaceful brooding. After the disaster of the Dragon Hunt, Jaskier goes to the coast on his own. Things don't really go as planned, but who cares? Peace is overrated anyway. In which there are language barriers, found family, guilt crises, several long-overdue realizations, and, eventually, a very confused Geralt.

Silmarillion fans will get a lot more out of this fic than I did but I already enjoyed it so much. The linguistics exploration was super fun and this was the fic that got me listening to The Amazing Devil. Very much a songfic in essence, executed with full character arcs for Jaskier, Geralt, and Maglor.

out in the pouring rain (down on your knees) by SummerFrost

Summary: "Hello, Julian," Yennefer says coolly. "Listen carefully. We are only having this conversation because it’d make Geralt happy and I'm the best wife in the fucking world. You and I should have sex." Jaskier says, "I'm going to need you to elaborate." Or: Geralt's biggest fantasy is to watch someone else fuck his wife. What kind of best friend would Jaskier be if he didn't lend a hand?

I know I already recced this but it's SO. FUCKING. GOOD. HI THANK YOU.

Last but not least, shout out to the Geralt Is Sorry collection that I'm still making my way through. Doing the lord's work.

[pinkasrenzo]

mid-year book freak out tag

thank you @bloody-wonder for tagging me💕

haven’t read a lot this year but let’s do this

1. Best Book You’ve Read So Far in 2023? The Tower of The Swallow (The Witcher #4/6) started out slow and kind of all over the place but I loved the focus on Ciri (finally!) and her journey (metaphorical and literal). It seems this is the most divisive book in the series and I get why, the writing style changes abruptly from the rest of the series, the plot is sort of on pause to make space for Ciri’s telling of her journey, and Geralt (alleged main character but is he? really?) is basically sidelined from his own series and also a liiiitle pathetic in this one (he’s,,, not doing great, trying his best but clearly failing, he’s going through It). But! It’s Ciri’s time and she’s my fave and I love her and reading more about her was great! Her character changes so much throughout the series but in this book she goes through hell and back and comes out bloody and powerful and so !!!! complete? like she’s a fully formed person/character now, she’s at the end of the road and ready to take on her (and the world!) destiny and tell it to fuck off and I’m so proud of her🥹

2. Best Sequel You’ve Read So Far in 2023? The Tower of The Swallow (again) for all the reasons above and also cause this is a transitional book of a sort: Geralt has been the main character so far, slaying monsters and doing his thing and we’ve seen Ciri grow slow and steady by his side, but Geralt’s getting old and tired and weary and it’s just time to let go (of the sword, the adventuring life, the narrative) and let Ciri take over, and so she does. She gets her own sword, made to fit her (it was always going to be for her) and she gets her own journey and challenges that break her and hurt her and make her grow and harden her, she gets to learn how far she’s willing to go, if she’s capable (and willing) to hurt people to get her destiny and wether she wants to follow or defy it.

It may have been Geralt The Witcher at first, but it’s Ciri The Witcher now, and she’s a force to be reckoned with.

3. New Release You Haven’t Read Yet, But Want To? Feed Them Silence I honestly have no idea what the plot is but I loved Summer Sons so I’m gonna trust Lee Mandelo on this one and see what fucked up sticky horror they’ve come up with this time👀

4. Most Anticipated Release For Second Half of 2023? Bloom Part II should come out in 2023 but there’s no release date yet so Idk if it’s going to come out this year or not but I’m definitely hype for it👀

5. Biggest Disappointment? Lady of The Lake (The Witcher #5/7) not really a disappointment per se but it could’ve been better? Pacing was atrocious, incredibly drawn out with a lot of unnecessary and repetitive scenes, and when the Big Finale came it was completely out of left field and anticlimactic. I didn’t dislike the finale itself, but it was missing a lot of context (that could’ve been there! if not for those unnecessary scenes drawing out the plot!) and so ended up feeling like a deus ex machina situation.

Can’t say much without spoilering but what was missing the most was probably an entire book worth of Emhyr var Emreis POV chapters, cause I get how he came to his final decisions and why, but it lacks impact, it feels like it’s out of the blue and it makes no sense without actually seeing him get to that point. I can imagine how he got there, but the book doesn’t show it or even tell it in retrospect it’s just like “he’s doing this now” and it contradicts everything he’s done so far. And we get a few hints of what he wants to do vs what he has to, and why, it’s clear he’s battling with contradicting feelings and courses of action but it’s not enough to make the finale and his final actions/decisions grounded in the story.

This book is mostly traveling scenes that are all the same (literally the way they’re written it’s,,, they’re like copy-pasted) that could’ve been cut and replaced with Emhyr POV chapters giving him more time and space to develop as a character and show his internal battle and how he reached the conclusion he did, but no🙄

6. Biggest Surprise? The Underground Library and Other Stories (Chika Toshokan Tanken Tan) it’s a manga short story collection I found by accident, and bought on impulse cause it was a one-volume series and I couldn’t find one (1) scrap of info on the author or the manga (maybe it’s too niche or too new? the mystery is compelling) and it was so good? It’s four short stories, all not exactly supernatural, the author calls the genre low-fantasy which fits.

All the main characters have some instance of getting lost or being lost (either in life or in a place) and trying to find an exit/a purpose/a treasure, and they’re all incredibly fleshed out considering how short the stories are (40 pages max). The art style is also amazing, it’s so detailed and cosy wether it’s an urban landscape or a countryside, realistic or fantastical and I could stare at it for ages there’s so! much! detail! it’s mind blowing! And it makes it feel so grounded and real? It almost feels like you could touch what’s on the page as if you were there

7. Favorite New Author? Chome, author of the Underground Library, I’m going to keep an eye out for what else they publish next cause if it’s like this collection they’re definitely going to be one of my new faves👀

8. Newest Favorite Character? Ciri, but she’s not exactly a new one, I already loved her from watching the Netflix show, I just love her more now🥰

9. Newest Fictional Crush? No one ʅ（◞‿◟）ʃ

💕Best Ship💕 alas, no ships so far

10. Book That Made You Cry? Not cry exactly but The Tower of the Swallow did make me feel a lot

11. Book That Made You Happy? The Underground Library, especially the last story, it was about a mystery-treasure hunt and it was so happy? Main character’s excitement and curiosity was so contagious and the story itself was also very🥰 perfect story to end the collection on

12. Favorite Book Adaptation You Saw This Year? NIMONA oh it was amazing perfect showstopping spectacular no notes 10/10 execuction! the soundtrack the colours the animation the way the characters move and interact with each others the hUGS they’re MELTING INTO EACH OTHER and the queerness of it especially given all Nate discovered about himself since the graphic novel came out and the added weight of it and how it’s inextricable from the narrative and it’s so! there! uncensored and unfiltered!! and and NIMONA SHES PERFECT my baby my precious she🥺and ballister little meow meow with his big beautiful eyes and okay he’s modeled after Riz Ahmed’s big beautiful eyes but it has nothing to do with how I feel about him I swear I’m so normal about this.

13. Favorite Review You’ve Written This Year? I don’t really do reviews but I’m counting mine and @montdargent rave about Nimona for this one

14. Most Beautiful Cover? It has to be The Underground Library, just *chefs kiss*

15. What Books Do You Need To Read By The End of The Year? Sul bordo vertiginoso delle cose has been in my TBR since 2018 so definitely that (now that I finally have it!) and then I wanted to finish/catch up with the Chronicles of Ancient Darkness series, also maybe reread the Beautiful Creatures series, and try and finally read a few books I’ve had for awhile and have yet to read (including gifts from friends from literal years ago) but we’ll see if I’ll get around to all of them :”)

[armystrong980]

Chapter 3: A Lifetime for this Moment

Eskel x Reader

A/N : I haven't written in a long time!Please go easy on the comments. I do want to do something different though. I GIVE PERMISSION to let you change up this work however you like. Although all I ask is to tag me in your writting so I can read it as well. :)

Sorry if there are any typos 😅

Characters: Eskel x Reader, Geralt, Cirilla, Lambert, Coen, Triss Merigold, Vesemir

Warnings: Cursing

Geralt, Cirilla and you were headed off to Kaer Morhen. At the last town before the mountains, you gathered up food and other supplies for the journey. It was cold. Very cold. The path was dangerous as there were a lot of windy turns. You could easily fall if you weren't careful. The road was narrow too, all more the fun. As the climb up the mountain began to take its toll on you, you finally made it. You were very happy with the view since Kaer Morhen was huge. You couldn't wait to see the scenery. All of you arrived at the gates way past sunset so everyone will be asleep. You got off your horse, detaching the carriage and placing it near the wall of the castle far from the horse pen. Geralt and Ciri were already inside.

"This place, this is where you trained?"

"Hmmm...This is where I call home."

"I'd rather look at everything when it's light out if you don't mind. Plus I need to sleep this cold off."

"You'll get used to it. Trust me." He then looks at Ciri.

"Cirilla, why don't you and Y/N share a room until tomorrow." She nodded and smiled.

"I think that's a great idea." You give her a small smile. As you follow Geralt you notice the holes in the walls and architecture had been destroyed.

"Was Kaer Morhen attacked?"

"Long ago. I'll tell you more another day." Geralt then stops in front of a room with two beds.

"Here, you two sleep here. I'll let Vesemir know we've arrived, that is, if he's still awake." He smiles.

"Thank you Geralt. Honestly for everything. I know I can be a pain in the ass sometimes but I do appreciate you."

He grunts once more then hugs you. "There's no need for a thank you Y/N. I just hope Triss knows how to heal you." He lets go and walks away. You and Ciri got ready for bed. There wasn't any talk, just a simple glance and a goodnight. Now you couldn't sleep. Eskel was there and you knew you'd see him again. You twisted and turned waiting for the sunrise to show. There was no luck, you were excited to see the handsome Witcher. With your thoughts twisting in your mind you finally drifted off into sleep.

Morning arose. Once you wake you see Cirilla already in the gear you gave her.

"Good Morning! I know it's a bit early but I'm ready for training!"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa Cirilla there's no need to rush. How about this, let me get dressed and we'll head down to get some breakfast." She looked defeated.

"Fine...." You got out of bed, took a quick hot bath, then put your armor on. Ciri helped tie the corset backing of your chest piece and then she broke the silence.

"Have you ever killed a man out of cold blood?" You stopped what you were doing.

"There were only a few I had too because their greed and selflessness ruined a treaty for surrender. For others to live there are sacrifices you need to make in order to keep some peace. If we don't, what point is there to living." You continued putting on your boots. Cirilla finished tying you up. She nodded at you saying she understood what you told her.

"C'mon, let's say hello to everyone." You both head down stairs where you were greeted by the gang.

"Oh look who it is! Thought you weren't fucking coming?"

"Geralt apparently changed my mind." You looked over to Geralt and pointed at him for a second. You turned back your gaze to Lambert. He laughs and gets off his seat to give you a small hug.

"Well it's about fucking time."

"I'm glad you guys let me stay for the winter. Maybe in the meantime I can give you all sparing lessons."

"You, sparring lessons? Don't make me laugh." Lambert then takes a double take and looks at your armor.

"Hey where did you get that?"

"Oh, this old thing, I've only had it for centuries." His eyes went wide. Cirilla laughed and went to get some breakfast.

"There's a reason why she's actually here lambert. Here, take a walk with me." Geralt goes to you first and whispers.

"Eskel is training, wait for me to find him and we'll give him a surprise." You smirk and nod back at him. He then leaves with Lambert and Coen to tell them what has been going on. You get some fruit and sit next to Ciri. You put your sword on the table and she looks at you confused.

"You know as a fun fact the sword I gave you was the first sword ever given to me by the Elves."

"The Elves? Did you help them?"

"I did. In fact I helped them out a lot. Many of them would have lost their lives if I didn't step in when I did. They would've been executed. All of them. What a bloodbath."

"What about the one you carry on you." She pointed to the one on the table. You pick it up.

"This one I made myself. I made it out of 3 swords that broke over the years."

"May I see it?" You hand it to her. When she takes it she has a tough time lifting it.

"Gods this is heavy." You chuckle.

"It's made to be that way." You see Geralt come back with Lambert and Coen. Lambert's face was different. He was shocked like he had seen a ghost. Geralt goes to you and Ciri.

"Cirilla you will be training with Coen today. Y/N and I have something to discuss." She looked bummed out.

"It's alright. I'll teach you a move or two later." She nods and goes with Coen.

"I'm going to go find Eskel. You stay here for a minute." As he walks off you sneakily follow him. You straggled behind but you heard him and Eskel talking. You listen in.

"....I Haven't seen you this sore since Vesemir tanned our hides for tying that thread to the bumblebee's leg." Eskel laughs.

"It wasn't the thread that was the problem, it was the jug tied to the other end of it."

"If you don't leave that bee in peace, you'll feel my sting again."

"See you're just like him."

"We're all just like him. We won't get any rest. None of us will have any peace until there are no monsters left in the world. Until our life's mission is complete."

"Which will be never. 'Cause what else would we do?"

"Exactly." You hear a pair of footsteps coming back and their voices closer. This was it.

Geralt comes first, eyeing you then smiles. He put his hand on my shoulder.

"Don't worry he's behind me." He walks off. You stand there hearing his boots pat on the ground. He turns the corner and looks up, stopping in his tracks with a wide smile upon his face.

"Y/N!?" He runs towards you scooping you up in his arms spinning you around. You wrap your arms around his neck and your legs around his torso.

"I'm so sorry I didn't come back. I shouldn't have left you like that. God what was I thinking?" He lets you down but still hugs you.

"Hey don't blame yourself. We're both here now, that's what matters." He looks in your eyes. You pull back the strand of hair out of his face and put it behind his ear. You then cradle the side of his face with your hand.

"You have no idea how much I've missed you." He smirks. His eyes land on yours then down to your lips then to your eyes again. He leans in making sure it's ok. As you lean in your noses touch. That's when you hear a person clear their throat behind you. Immediately he lets you go and you two seperate. You looked at the figure and noticed it was Vesemir.

"Y/N, Geralt told me of your arrival. " You go up to him. To your surprise he gave you a hug.

"How's the shoulder?" You patched him up the last time you came to Kaer Morhen. Vesemir had a broken shoulder and you managed to fix him up in 2 days.

"Much better thanks to you." He lets go. He looks at you and Eskel.

"You know Y/N, Witchers aren't allowed to fall in love. That's just how it is. If you two fall in love it will be for life. Do you understand?" You and Eskel nod.

"I'm not usually the one who would let any of this happen but I feel a destiny upon the both of you." He looked upset and you caught on to that.

"Y/N, the reason why I came to find you is because Triss is here to see you. She would like a meeting with you, me, Geralt, Cirilla and Eskel. " You thought your heart had stopped.

"Already so soon?" He nods.

She wants the meeting now?" He nods again.

"May I have a minute."

"Take as much time as you need. The meeting will be held in the lab." He walks off. You turn to Eskel with tears in your eyes.

"Dove your heart rate is unbelievably fast." He pulls you into his embrace. You hug him tightly around his waist as he rubs comforting circles on your back.

"I'm so scared Eskel. I've never been this scared before in my life." You look up at him, tears staining your cheeks.

"I've died many times, too many to count. If I die today--" He wiped away your tears.

" Dove....breathe with me. In and out. In and out." You followed his breathing and it slowed your heart rate a bit. He then lets go of you for a quick second. He wiped your tears away.

"No matter what goes on in that room. No matter what happens or what they say, I'm never leaving you again. Consider this as a promise." He pulled away to look you in the eye and you knew he wasn't lying.

"I'll take you up on that promise." A little more relaxed you giggle. He smiles at your sudden change in emotion.

"We should head over." You smile and nod. He holds out his arm for you to hold to walk down the hallways with him. You gladly accept.

The pit in your stomach was far from welcoming. Destiny may yet side with you or take a turn for the worst. Will your death be today or will you find a new purpose in living. Eskel has shown you love, care, and kindness. He had shown he loves you and that he won't leave your side. The only thing is you're scared you'll leave him....

[heytheredeann]

Ten Random Lines

Rules: pick any ten of your fics, scroll to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I was tagged by @cha-melodius, thank you! I picked ten among the longest fics (excluding collections), because it seemed more fun loool What I discovered is that my fics about the TMFU trio tend to be longer than the others and that I write a lot more Napoleon/Gaby interaction than I had realized LOL

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Porcelain (OUAT, Swanfire)

He turns to Emma, looking for the right words to express that he sort of gets what she was going for, but this isn’t okay, when she disappears as well. Fantastic. “Oh, come on,” he complains, rubbing his face in frustration with one hand. “Emma!” he calls, in the foolish hope that she’ll come right back. Of course, she doesn’t even dream of it. Figures.

Three’s a crowd (TMFU, Gapollya)

He wakes up oddly warm and to the world moving around him. Sluggishly trying to blink the fog away from his eyes, he realizes that he is actually the only one moving. Because he’s being carried. By Illya. For some reason.

Stumbling (TMFU, Gapollya)

“Hey, Peril,” Solo chimes in, lightly, like they aren’t all being held at gunpoint. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Anything less than perfect (The Witcher, Yenralt+Ciri)

He keeps a solid grip on her arm as they go through, because he’s never going to completely trust that these fucking things won’t malfunction, and he’s unsurprisingly overcome by nausea as soon as he steps foot on solid ground. He pushes back against the feeling, because there’s no time, not until he is positive that the threat is far away from them—he pushes Ciri behind him as he turns around to face the portal, half expecting the mage to have followed them.

Sometimes your guilt just wears a face (TMFU, Napollya+Gaby)

“Ah, no, listen, in Peril’s defense, I was, uh, killed.”

Forever is the sweetest con (TMFU, Gapollya)

She remembers demanding if everything is always just a fucking joke to him, pushing and pushing until he just asked, huffing like he had any right to be exasperated by her: “What do you want me to do about it? Cry?” “Maybe!” was her answer, still above normal volume. “At least I would know that you give a shit!”

A bed too big for two (TMFU, Gapollya)

“Tell me, exactly for how long do you intend to hold onto that grudge?” he asks, lightly, sliding into the shirt and lying backwards on the bed, keeping himself up on his elbows so that he can look down on her.

Temptations (TMFU, Gapollya)

To his credit, Paul does deliver: his fiancée works at UNCLE and she knows they know each other, so she tells him without any fuss. “This is sick, Solo, even for you,” he still says while handing him the address, but that’s fine, Napoleon had expected him to be judgemental about the whole thing from the get-go. He isn’t even sure he’s going to show up anyway.

Disappearing act (TMFU, Gapollya)

“Maybe there are things that we don’t understand, out there,” is the closest that he can come to a confession, and if nothing else it gets him a snort and a comment on how he should wait until they start drinking to throw deep bullshit at her. In spite of everything else, he manages a bit of a smile too.

Between a rock and a hard place (TMFU, Gapollya)

She doesn’t immediately rush to fill the silence and insult him, so that’s something at least. Instead, she drums her fingers against the mattress, biting her bottom lip before she looks up at him with a really weird look on her face and says, roughly: “Come here.”

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Tagging: @witch-and-her-witcher @wanderlust-t @ikeepwatchinghelicopters @something-more @fireflyxrebel-writes @statusquoergo @ialwayswilll @shineyma  @therogueheart (no pressure!)