#mention of geraskier

[geraskierfanficprompts]

Prompt 117

Jaskier's head often hurts. He doesn't always tell Geralt, but Geralt catches him putting a hand to his forehead and wincing in pain. Jaskier will sometimes lose days of songwriting inspiration, or time for hobbies, because when he and Geralt aren't moving down the path, Jaskier will lay in his bedroll writhing in pain and groaning at how unfair life is. Geralt at first thought Jaskier was exaggerating his pain, as Jaskier tended to be dramatic. When Geralt hinted at this though, Jaskier looked at him with such a hurt expression that Geralt panicked his way into somehow saving the conversation. The very next winter, Geralt asks Lambert, who is much better with potions and the like, to help him make some sort of pain remedy. They test and experiment all winter, before they finally make on they're both happy enough with to send off that spring. Geralt and Jaskier have been reunited for two weeks when Jaskier reaches a hand up and rubs one side of his face, with particular amounts of pressure and care given to his eye and brow. Geralt fishes around in his bags before holding it out to Jaskier. "...What is this?" "The only potion I have safe for humans. Ask me for it, never dig it out yourself, it looks similar to some of the others." "What does it do, Geralt?" "It should help. With... With the pain." Jaskier shoots out sad scents. That wasn't what Geralt expected from his gift. "I'm sorry, Geralt! I didn't mean to slow us down so much! I can work through it! i can keep walking!" Geralt explains he doesn't want Jaskier to "work through it", he wants Jaskier to not be in pain and to be happy. Jaskier, growing up as a busy young viscount, apparently was told to push through and continue with his schoolwork and duties, no matter how bad the migraine. Geralt assures his bard that all Geralt wants is Jaskier's happiness, and Jaskier drinks the potion. Merely twenty minutes later and Jaskier was bouncing around and singing again. He liked seeing his bard not be in pain.

[arcaneviolence]

Burn care

deleted scene from s2 real not fake

if you see this twice thats cause I'm silly and accidentally deleted it wopsie

comms are open tee hee

[hannibard]

Thanks for coming to my ted talk

[gothiethefairy]

there should be more blind!jaskier aus, mostly bc the idea of everyone giving geralt shit for abandoning a blind man on top of a dangerous mountain is kinda funny

[eileensdress]

Ok you cannot tell me it’s not a little bit funny that twn writers got so sick of geraskier somehow being the main ship that they FINALLY made someone a little fruity

[freetheworms]

they do be kissing tho 🌼🐺

(one pants two pants red pants blue pants)

[finleycannotdraw]

Shut Up and Dance With Me

Geralt has always known that soft things aren’t meant for him.

It’s why he pushed Jaskier away. It’s why he keeps away from towns when he’s not working. It’s why he denied his Child Surprise so vehemently for so many years. He was told that the world would have nothing for him but roughness, so he roughened himself in preparation and never truly relaxed.

Until now, that is.

He’d stumbled over his apology to Jaskier—not the one in the prison cell, his real apology—and the bard had laughed at him. He’d panicked for about two seconds, which was as long as it took for Jaskier to close the distance between them and pull Geralt into an embrace.

“I’ll always forgive you, dear heart,” he’d said. “It might make me fucking stupid, but that’s never stopped me before.”

“Taking my lines now, huh?” Geralt had replied, hugging Jaskier back with a bone-deep warmth he’d never felt before.

Maybe he’d never felt warm before because he never let himself get close enough to the heat.

Now, Jaskier is strumming his lute and singing some silly song about shutting up and dancing, and Ciri is giggling as she leads Geralt through the steps of a dance. Her hair is loose around her shoulders, and she’s wearing a dress that Jaskier and Yennefer had managed to produce from someplace or another.

“Spin me,” she says, laughing too much for it to sound like a proper order, but he obeys anyway, smiling indulgently as he grabs his daughter by the waist and lifts her up, spinning around a few times before setting her down, grasping her hand, and twirling her on her own feet. She laughs harder, her joy ringing out into the snow, into the music.

The music stops, but Jaskier keeps singing, and Geralt glances over to see the bard dancing with Lambert, both men laughing just as much as Ciri. It only takes another second for her to notice, and she spins once more with Geralt before reaching out to switch, falling into a waltz with Jaskier and leaving the two witchers to quickly decide whether to continue dancing.

Lambert decides for both of them, hooking his elbow around Geralt’s and skipping in a circle, dragging Geralt with him.

They switch directions a few times, and then Ciri is shoving her way between them to dance with Lambert, leaving Geralt to be caught deftly by Jaskier and maneuvered into a different dance, one that causes them to be pressed close together. Jaskier keeps singing, keeps grinning, but his eyes have softened as he gazes up at Geralt’s face.

Geralt, feeling seen and insecure, dares a glance toward his brother and daughter. Lambert, roaring with laughter, is throwing Ciri into the air and catching her with ease. Jaskier has gone through enough choruses that they both know the words, so as Lambert heaves Ciri upwards again, they’re both singing along.

“She said ‘shut up and dance with me!’”

Jaskier stops singing to chuckle at them, but joins back in during the next repetition, with one notable change.

“This witcher is my destiny,” he says teasingly, and looks nothing but delighted by the concept, unlike everyone else forced into Geralt’s life by destiny.

The thing is, Jaskier wasn’t a result of destiny. He’s here by choice, and if he’s so happy to joke that he’s destined to be here, with Geralt, then—

Geralt kisses him.

Jaskier makes a surprised humming sound and returns the kiss eagerly, his hands going from Geralt’s shoulders to the back of his neck as he stands up on his toes to get closer.

“Oi, bard, the song doesn’t end in the middle of the lyric like that, right? Why’d—oh,” Lambert says. “About time. Fucking morons.”

“Gross,” says Ciri. “But yeah. It is about time.”

Maybe Geralt wasn’t meant for soft things. But he’s learning, day by day, that maybe that doesn’t mean he has to live a life without them.

—

and here’s the rest of the drawing of all the dance combinations! the fic took me like 10 minutes and the drawing took a few hours😭

[hardly-an-escape]

I have been feeling like a greasy ball of goo for days and despite having many many ideas I tragically seem to have zero ability to actually write right now. also my brain is bouncing all over the place between like four different fandoms, which is not ideal with Dreamling Week coming up because I really want to get stuff done for that event!!

ugh. this is one of those times when I would really like to take my brain out of my skull, give it a good scrub with, like, a lavender-scented body soap, rinse it in very hot water, and then pop it back in. I genuinely think that would help.

[fresh-shoes]

Just watched blood origins and it was not great HOWEVER we’re not gonna acknowledge that the very first Witcher was in love with a bard? And not only was he in love with her - the entire reason he became a Witcher was to protect her?

[sandinthepipes]

I just found out fjall and eile's ship is called larkstone. Because he's called fjall stoneheart.

Fjall. Stoneheart.

You know, like that fucking white wolf song "the call of the stone heart is broken and alone". A song about the only Witcher to ever be called white wolf on earth, geralt of rivia.

And I'm like. Why? What am I supposed to do with all this? Cause I know you can't make them canon, you know you can't make them canon, why are you giving me this? What do you want me to do with it? I'm just here juggling the thousand balls you throw at me desperately trying not to make a fool of my self. Why are you throwing more.

[loki-is-my-kink-awakening]

I have a couple of headcanons about Jaskier and sex, but I wanna talk about this one today

Jaskier as a sex worker

We all know our boy loves sex, but he gets into it by accident. It's back when he's trying to make it as a bard, on his way to becoming the famous troubadour but not quite there yet.

There’s a pretty lady at the market and they get to chatting. She invites him over, he goes and they end up in bed.

It’s only when he’s getting his clothes back on that it becomes clear what this encounter was.

“There’s money for you on the chesterfield,” she says, still half naked and lounging in the bed.

Jaskier looks over and sees, sure enough, a small leather pouch with what looks like a decent amount of coin.

“I might ask for your services again, if you were amenable,” she continues, watching Jaskier as he picks up the pouch and secrets it on his person.

“Um, I travel,” Jaskier says, not sure what on earth to say. It wasn’t polite to tell the truth, not in this situation.

But it gets him thinking. His pay as a bard is so meagre, he can hardly afford food.

He loves sex. He loves having enough money to eat.

The answer, it seems, is simple.

It goes from there, Jaskier entertains ladies while their husbands are away. They allow him to play his music, and he can pretend that’s what the coin is for.

When there are none, he plays in taverns. There’s always some horndog around. Jaskier just needed to give them a wink and they’d follow him out the back.

Occasionally, they just wanted to have fun, not hire his services, and Jaskier was generally fine with it.

Sometimes, he wouldn’t have chosen them if he’d known it was a hookup and not him getting paid.

It’s what eventually led him to offer his services on Gropecunte Lane. There, everyone knew what he was there for. True, it meant servicing men more than anything else, but he needed the coin.

Perhaps the Countess de Stael would hire him again for a while. Her husband should be aware in a month or two,

It’s then that Jaskier meets Geralt, after having hard bread thrown at him once again.

He creeps forward towards the brooding man in the back corner. Jaskier knows he’s a witcher, he’s seen his swords, and joining him from an adventure or two would certainly give him better things to write about.

Although, his epic poems about sex were interesting to some parties.

But Geralt refuses him, and Jaskier ends up falling back onto old tricks.

That’s when Geralt finds him. The witcher looks confused. Pah, like he’s never seen a man on his knees before. Geralt must’ve seen it all by now.

Yet, the witcher seems to want to help, and so Jaskier finds himself tagging along, a small smirk tugging at his lips.

When they pull their resources, Jaskier doesn’t need to sell himself as often.

But Jaskier doesn’t want to be a burden. He can manage all by himself, thank you very much.

He goes back to the local Gropecunte Lane whenever they are in town and fills out his coin pouch. Then he goes and washes before heading down to play his music at the tavern.

By the time Geralt comes back, he’s none the wiser.

It all falls apart when Geralt has to ask some questions in town before he goes on his contract. Jaskier is on his knees once again when the witcher passes by. Screwing his eyes shut, he hopes Geralt didn’t see him.

He stays for an hour, hoping that’s enough time for the witcher to be on his way.

Yet, when he opens the door to their shared room to get a wash, he sees Geralt.

“You don’t need to do that,” Geralt says, his brows furrowed. “Not if you don’t want to, that is.”

Jaskier closes the door and leans against it. “I’m perfectly fine.”

Geralt hums, but doesn’t say anything more. He gets up, fires a short blast of igni into the bath water, then nods and leaves.

The thing is, Jaskier knows Geralt visits sex workers, so why he’s bothered by Jaskier being one is beyond him.

Heaven knows, Jaskier doesn’t need anyone with a saviour complex. Sex work is acceptable work, and he only does it when he is both short on coin and in a town.

But it happens time and time again that Geralt just happens to be walking by when Jaskier is on his knees.

Damn him, Jaskier just wants a bit of extra money.

So, he goes back to ladies who have husbands away on business. It’s certainly nicer being in bed than kneeling on the dirt, but these trysts are less frequent.

And they also run the risk of their husband coming back earlier than expected.

When Geralt has to rescue him from yet another angry man, Jaskier finally breaks.

“You don’t like me going to the lane. You don’t like me visiting ladies in their own homes. What the hell, Geralt?” Jaskier screamed at him when they got back to their room.

“Angry husbands shouldn’t be an occupational hazard, Jaskier.”

“Oh, fuck you.”

“I’ve got no coin to give you.”

At that, Jaskier walks out the room and bangs the door shut.

He comes back later and Geralt apologises.

They don’t talk about it more than an 'I'm sorry'. Jaskier tosses and turns in bed and is exhausted by the time morning comes.

Geralt lets him ride Roach that day, and the next.

When they get into the next town, Geralt shuffles about, then speaks softly.

“I won’t bother you if you go to the lane again.”

Jaskier looks up. Did Geralt really mean that?

“I just want you to be safe.”

“I will be. Will you tell me more of your adventures when you get back?”

“Yes,” Geralt agrees.

And so Jaskier starts to collect more songs, and eventually he gets more popular and he ends up doing sex work on the street less. And less in random women’s bedrooms.

Well, except from the Countess da Stael, but that’s different.

And Geralt never says anything about it. He just lets Jaskier do his thing. 

And if Jaskier writes a special song celebrating the sex workers of Gropecunte Lane, well, it’s definitely worth seeing Geralt try to keep his expression neutral for.

Wow, this was a ramble and a half. Anyway, I’ve got sex worker Jaskier on the brain.

[gothiethefairy]

everyone has cool witcher ocs, meanwhile mine are just ocs who live in the witcher world, aren't witchers at all, and are actually a bunch of non-human or magical gaggle of children that jaskier takes in inside this au i have in my head

and jaskier calls them his little ducklings

YES, it's geraskier but it's more slow-burn bc i make geralt fucking work for his apology to jaskier bc it takes place after the mountains lol

[process-pending]

“I think you’re confusing me for Macee,” Geralt says, eyeing Jaskier. Jaskier scoffs, “So you’re saying you wouldn’t help me bury a body. Well, I guess we certainly defined the relationship.”

Take Me Back (Chapter 55)

[geekey]

Reflexões Solitárias de um Bruxo Orgulhoso

Geralt sabe quanto tempo está vivo, o quanto ainda pode viver, mas ele tem a terrível ciência autoconsciente de que Jaskier não estará aqui por todo o caminho.

Um dia sua estrada barulhenta, vai voltar a ser silenciosa.

─━━━━━━⊱✿⊰━━━━━━─

Geralt é velho, ele viveu mais do que os garotos que treinaram com ele, viveu mais do que os que ousaram erguer suas espadas e até mesmo dos poucos sortudos que sobreviveram a formatura.

E mesmo assim, ele coletou seus medalhões, manchados de sangue, quando caíram em derrota no campo de batalha.

Ele está velho o suficiente para ter peregrinado por toda terra que é conhecida, ter ceifado tantos monstros que hoje ele já não enumera suas vitórias, não comemora seus ganhos e não sorri para seus interesses.

A vida é supérflua e o tempo é uma mentira para quem vive na eternidade.

As crianças com quem ele cresceu estão mortas ou batalham sem descanso essa guerra, assistindo os humanos, ignorantes e cheios de medo e ódio, nascerem, viverem e morrerem em um ciclo sem fim, dia após dia, igual, interminável.

Não há dor.

Não há alegria.

Não há sofrimento.

Não existe prazer.

Apenas o vazio, infindável e contínuo do viver, amanhecer após amanhecer.

Por isso, foi uma surpresa quando o bardo apareceu em seu caminho, faminto pela fama e o dinheiro que coletaria com uma fonte de inspiração fixa.

Geralt nem ao menos piscou para o rapaz tolo que, deliberadamente, abandonou seu lar para dormir ao relento e tocar seu alaúde em cada muquifo esquecido por Deus.

Todavia, ignorar sua presença, se provou irritantemente impossível nos primeiros 15 minutos. Jaskier pode falar e cantar por ele e por mais dez pessoas ao mesmo tempo, ele é extravagante, expansivo e confiante demais, exalando presença o suficiente para ofuscar a realeza em sua própria casa.

Jaskier é como um sol irradiando em uma sala, uma força atrativa que não pode ser ignorada.

E se o garoto não fedesse a sangue humano, Geralt diria que está sendo perseguido por um demônio menor tentando enlouquece-lo ou um feiticeiro que está tentando seduzi-lo com avidez.

E Geralt descobriu que ele não sente falta do silêncio, ou do único som que o segue serem os cascos de Plotka e as maldições de aldeões que o odeiam, mas que pagam por seu serviço. Ele se acostumou com o alaúde e a voz interrupta do cantor que o segue.

Se acostumou a sua presença constante, a ter uma companhia que responde suas conversas, a confusões desnecessárias a beira da estrada e contar histórias sob as estrelas aquecido por uma fogueira.

Agora há música e barulho em seu acampamento, nas estradas e em cada taverna e pousada que ele arrisca por os pés.

Geralt o ouve todos os dias, ele bebe desse caos como um moribundo sedento no deserto, seus dias não são monótonos, não há espaço para o vazio, muito menos tempo para ouvir a ladainha odiosa e acusatória de rostos passageiros.

Tempestades ganham músicas.

Histórias viram baladas.

Há sorrisos.

Piadas inconvenientes.

E ele sente, que seu coração morto pode estar se aquecendo no erro do apego, ao que um dia envelhecerá e voltará a terra o deixando com o amargo toque vazio de sua longevidade.

E a saudade que ele nunca vai confessar.

[podcastenthusiast]

Only four? Disappointing.