#viper jaskier

[thelostgirl21]

Radskier headcanon #13

The main reason Radovid told Dijkstra about his brother's secret meeting with Nilfgaard, and chose to keep his mouth shut about the real identity of the people behind the Queen's murder, is because he'd promised Jaskier that if Ciri came to live with them, Redania would keep her safe and protected.

Vizimir's decision to hand her over to Nilfgaard would have jeopardized that promise.

[islenthatur]

A Leshen’s Roar

Jaskier stood in the back of the hall far away from the others and shifted uncomfortably, hands fiddling with the woven gold bands around his wrists that he had made long ago to hide his Self from magical means. Geralt’s eyes found his as he, Ciri and his brothers all gathered ales and food, his head tilting in question.

Are you well?

He gave his Witcher a grin and nodded, it was a complete and utter fucking lie but still, it eased Geralt. Being here in these halls felt wrong all kinds of it, the magic of the Old Wards that protected this place itched under his Glamour-skin. Yet, he would endure like always. Geralt had begged him quiet in the night when he and his child surprise stumbled across him, startling him bad enough that if it wasn’t for Geralt’s fast reflexes and Jaskier’s own and age that the roots he sent tearing towards them would have struck true.

Geralt had been asking him for years to join him in Kaer Morhen even knowing the truth, he steadily rejected the fact that Jaskier would not be welcomed in his home with the same vehemence as Jaskier defending Witchers against humans

This time he agreed because he was a fool with a fool’s heart. There was still something hollow between them after the mountain, even with an apology but… no, there had been something broken between them since the Djinn and that fucking wish twisted Geralt so far up in the Witch’s presence… yet, Jaskier couldn’t refuse, not with the way Geralt looked at him, not when there was so much tenderness in those eyes directed at him.

He hadn’t looked at him like that for a very long time.

“Thank you,” He whispered to the polite Witcher – Coën – when the Griffin brought him a plate of food and an ale.

The Witcher dipped his head in reply and went back to the others while Jaskier leant against the wall and watched, a smile pulling at his own lips as they began to break out in cheerful stories. He couldn’t help but inch closer, coming to stand by Geralt and laughed as Lambert grew utterly animated in the midst of a fabulous story that Jaskier itched to write down.

Vesemir hummed as he moved to stand at the centre of the table, waiting till all eyes were on him. He cast a look at each other them, lingering on Jaskier for a beat longer than expected but still. "Each of your faces here is enough cause for a celebration. You're safe, made it back home in one piece… mainly. That is enough for me."

"Here's to another Winter together," Coën added a small grin on his face, cup raised in toast.

"To arguments over who gets cleaning duty!"

"To the breath in our lungs!"

Geralt hummed as he raised his own mug of ale, a twitch of a smile on his lips. "To the brothers."

"To forgetting the fucking path!" Eskel's voice booms in the hall. "For one fucking night!"

Something dark twisted in Jaskier as he turned with a smile to the new Witcher, the one Geralt was most eager to see. His favourite brother that he spoke of often, one that Jaskier was eager to meet as well to gather some embarrassing stories… yet that pleasure died as he took note of the man before him.

He looked like a Witcher, carried all the marks of one but everything about him was wrong. The air vibrated around him as Geralt moved closer to hug his brother, pausing as Jaskier’s hand clenched tight around his wrist with strength he knew the bard rarely used.

“You are not welcome here.” The voice that rumbled from the bard has Geralt stiffening, it was a tone he had only heard several times and it was when Geralt was truly in dire need or danger. Inhaling deeply he tried to sense what set off Jaskier for Eskel still looked like his brother, acted like his brother… but he knew that Jaskier’s senses were much more attuned to creatures than Geralt’s so with that in mind Geralt stepped back, hand going for his silver sword.

“What the fuck…/”

“Now see here bard!”

“Geralt?”

Several voices spoke out as one but Geralt ignored all to lock his eyes on Jaskier who’s eyes seemed to burn a brilliant blue, never wavering from Eskel who stood frozen in the spot.

“Jask?” He inquired slowly, hand gripping the hilt of his silver sword tight but did not draw it yet. “What is it?”

Blinking Jaskier turned his eyes ever so slightly towards Geralt, a spark of resignation in his eyes that made the Witcher’s stomach drop, he knew that look. It was an apology. Before Geralt could do anything Jaskier’s form twisted, the gold bangles on his wrist dropping to the floor with a plink.

“Release him youngling.” Jaskier snarled his voice warbling into the sound of creaking wood and a raging brook, his skin twisting to bark as horns began to sprout.

The others began to move, their hands drawing their own weapons as Jaskier’s form finally finished taking shape. Geralt moved and snarled, hands forming Quen as his brothers and mentor hurled daggers towards Jaskier’s back. “Stop!”

“Stop!? He’s a fuckin’ Leshen that you brought into our home and is about to kill our brother!” Lambert snarled as he charged forward, but Geralt didn’t allow him to get further than several feet before kicking out with all his force and a muttered apology.

Jaskier cared not for the fight behind him as he advanced on Eskel, his roots twisting to hold the being in place as rage simmered under his bark. Dandelions and buttercups wilted along his moss covered arms as he reached forward, his magic swirling.

“THIS ONE IS MINE!” Eskel snarled in a twisted warble that stilled the others behind him.

A dark laugh escaped Jaskier’s lips, the sound of grinding bone and snapping branches. “No youngling, he is not… he’s mine.”

A wretched snarl escaped Eskel’s lips as Jaskier’s power rippled out of him in a screech, his body arching back, arms splayed open as Jaskier burst into a flock of crows to swarm around him, looking for the infection. This Leshen was from an old Sphere, one that Jaskier was born to, for it to twist a being this way. The Leshen’s of this world were twisted, wrong… not as powerful but Jaskier was old, far older than this creature and he reached within the Witcher and grasped the fleck of twisted rotting wood that inched towards his heart and yanked.

Everything about the rotting wood was wrong, powdery like crumbling stone but sparkled like—like stellacite. His heart stuttered as he swung his head around to gaze at Ciri, remembering one night of her waking up screaming, burrowing into his arms and sobbed out the harrowing story of how she escaped Cintra, what her scream could do and that it toppled the monolith.

If this got through, then… fuck. What else got through?

Steeling himself Jaskier turned to the wriggling arm and felt the roar build up, releasing it as it reached its bubbling point and shattering the slivers of the Youngling that dared to harm something of his Beloved.

Everything spun as Jaskier let his magic release, letting his form shrink back down enough for Geralt to slip the bangles over his hands once more and solidifying him to his preferred human body. Exhaustion crept up on him as he moved Eskel, who was now unconscious, towards them all with is vines.

“He’s alive, will be unconscious for a while. The youngling was trying to Twist him into a Leshen- formować. If left to fester then Eskel would have died and in his place the puppet of the Youngling.” Jaskier explained broken, toneless as he moved to stand behind Geralt slightly. “He will be well now, sore but well.”

[angelynmoon]

Fic thought:

Jaskier gets tired of how Witchers are treated, he's spent decades with Geralt, watching him be spit on and payment shorted, despite his best effort his songs have done little to change public opinion, and other Witchers have it much worse.

It's after the Mountain, when he and Geralt part ways, not for long, it's never for long, no matter how mean Geralt can be in a moment, the Witcher always finds him again, a gift as a peace offering and apology both, that Jaskier stumbles upon an execution, a Witcher accused of leaving a monster unhunted, but Jaskier knows that no Witcher would do such, he knows that.

That moment changes everything, changes the very course of Destiny, because there is no way that Jaskier can stand idle and watch a Witcher be killed for no reason.

And so Jaskier saves the Witcher, a Letho of the Viper school, who in turns swears his life to Jaskier's protection despite, or perhaps because of, the Bard's protests.

Jaskier returns home for the season, trying to figure out what to do with the Witcher he now has in his service, and he hears of a Cat Witcher that's been enslaved by a King and it's then that Jaskier makes a choice and a plan.

It's easy enough, Letho has toppled kingdoms before, he's a Kingslayer after all, only it's not Letho's sword that takes the King's life, it's Jaskier's.

Jaskier takes over the Kingdom and Court quickly, roots out treason and lies thanks to the Cat he frees, who also pledges his service, he has no where else to go, his past removed before the King bought him, he remembers only what he is, a Witcher, and Letho who can hear lies.

Eventually the rest of the Cats and Vipers find their way to Jaskier's growing Kingdom, as do Elves and like creatures when they hear that Jaskier's Kingdom is a refuge for the odd and mistreated.

Jaskier's not entirely sure just how it happened but by the time Geralt comes to apologize, Jaskier has been a King and been running a Kingdom for at least a year and has an Army that is at least half Witcher, he's been getting marriage offers from people that turned his family down when he decided to go to Oxenfurt to learn music.

Yennifer offered to be his Court Sorcerer, for Melittle's sake.

Jaskier just wanted his Witcher and his people safe, he didn't intend for this to happen.

-

Because accidental Warlord!Jaskier would be hillarious.

No one lets Geralt live down the fact that his Bard conqured a Kingdom so he'd be safe and treated better, also they definately call him Queen Geralt, or at least Lambert does.

[inexplicifics]

Oooh, Gweld/Serrit college AU sounds so good! Is Serrit a Fine Arts major? What's Gweld studying? Also, Gen x 10 intrigues me!

The modern college AU was contributed by several members of the AWAU server! It's pretty much entirely bullet points at the moment; here are a few.

Gweld is a cheerleader - he tried out on a dare and discovered it’s actually a) extremely athletic & difficult and b) a lot of fun. All the girls enjoy the fact that he can and will throw them very high and then catch them again reliably. He has gotten a lot more flexible since he joined the team. He has absolutely no shame about any of this and definitely wears the skirt (with shorts under it).

Serrit is majoring in History and is the star player of the women’s field hockey team. She is vicious - people call her the Viper for her speed and terrifying accuracy. She mostly doesn’t pay attention to the cheerleaders until one of her teammates points out the guy, and then she’s Very Confused. More so when it turns out he’s kind of a puppy?

They’re taking Statistics together and it’s an eight am class and Serrit Does Not Like Early Mornings and Gweld keeps showing up with two coffees? One for him and one for her? Is he drugging them? Is he trying to bribe her for something? What could this possibly mean? (Flirting. He’s flirting.)

Aiden is an art student and gymnast. He’s very good at both. He meets Gweld at the gym and is Baffled but Delighted by Gweld’s good nature. He’s also delighted by Gweld’s little brother, who is ever so much fun to tease.

Lambert is triple majoring in Chemistry, Nilfgaardian, and Forestry, because he is batshit. He Deeply Resents his brother dragging him to the gym on a regular basis, except for the two facts that a) he really does need the exercise, and b) Gweld has introduced him to Aiden, who is Terrifyingly Bendy.

Geralt is in vet school, planning to specialize in horse medicine. He is very happy.

And as long as I'm doing school AUs, here's a snippet of a gen high school AU that I'm not entirely sure where it's going:

Of course. Of course Jaskier’s locker is right next to a jock’s. And he had been so hoping that this year he wouldn’t be making a close acquaintance with the inside of his locker. But there’s a whole cluster of big young men in letterman jackets clustered around right next to where Jaskier needs to go, laughing and shoving each other, and Jaskier knows from painful experience that the introduction of an outsider - an outsider who is so very out of place - will likely mean that they turn their play into something much, much nastier. He could just…carry all his stuff, and not use his locker at all. For the whole year. But he has a lot of very heavy textbooks, and his viola, and he can’t just carry that around all day. He’s hesitating, wondering if it’s best to just bluff it out or to retreat and come back later - even being late to homeroom might be better than being cornered - when one of the jocks looks up and spots him. “Oh hey!” the jock says - the biggest of the four, a broad-shouldered fellow with chin-length dark hair and brown skin and a really good jawline. “Shit, are we in the way?” “Ah,” Jaskier says, because that was not the opening gambit he expected.

[artistsfuneral]

The Road to Kaer Morhen - p.3

“Well some of us decided to make use of the daylight and get supplies,” Jaskier answered, proudly holding up their new belongings. The Cat Witcher frowned at him, head cocked to the side, “Rope? What on earth do we need rope for, it's a mountain path not a cliff climbing exercise.” Jaskier rolled his eyes and – pointedly ignoring Aiden – knotted the rope to the side of his pack. He'd keep the charm in his belt pouch for now. “I mean seriously, Jaskier. Wouldn't food have been better? It's not like I can help a lot in that department, given the overall,” Aiden stopped himself from continuing and waved at himself with a sour face. Jaskier sighed.

He really couldn't phantom when he had developed the habit of running into half-dead witchers in need of heroic rescuing, but at this point it had happened too many times to still be considered a coincidence. Much like it had been the case with the other three Cats, the Viper, the Griffin pair and who afterwards had insisted on being called his Crane Wife, Jaskier had found Aiden just on time. After the failed assassination attempt in Yspaden and a horrible week spent hiding in the alleys and basements of Luton, Jaskier had collected enough coin and courage to head east, towards Kaedwen. Then, when traveling through the forests of Gelibol, he suddenly came across a merchant's cart and a man with amber eyes who introduced himself as Roland Treugger. Despite the fact that the man was an excellent liar, more so than the backstabbing cretin Valdo Marx himself, Jaskier almost instantly understood that there was something off about the merchant. Lo and behold, Jaskier wasn't being paranoid and the noise he heard coming from the inside of the wagon was not some caged animal to be sold at the next market, like Treugger had insisted, but Aiden bleeding onto the floor. Jaskier remembered very vividly how after that particular discovery he had turned back around and looked at the other man with a look so dispassionate it made Treugger stumble backwards. What Jaskier – despite Aiden's constant insisting – did not remember was the fact that Treugger had straight out stumbled into Jaskier's blade. Sixteen times. It certainly was a nice thought, but alas Jaskier was nothing but a humble bard and the short sword he carried with him was mostly for decoration. Aiden didn't believe him for a second.

Nevertheless the damage had already been done and while the Cat Witcher was lucky enough for both of his broken legs to heal properly, the same couldn't be said about his left arm or eye. In the passing day he lost both. Over his many years of travel the bard had to witness countless heartbreaking fates, but watching Aiden wake up only to realize what gruesome things had been done to him would stick with Jaskier for a long time. Aiden, like any witcher, was saved by his astonishingly strength and tough heart. His humor helped a lot too, as Jaskier was quick to learn.

Spending a fortnight hidden away in the forests had given them enough time to get to know and befriend each other. So when a troop of nilfgaardian soldiers found their camp, splitting up wasn't on the table anymore. Now Jaskier was stuck with a new travel companion and around a hundred horrible jokes on his mind about how Aiden was all-right, even if there was hardly anything left of him.

“No need to worry, sunshine, you forgot that I've been following Geralt around for around a century or so, I know my outdoor survival.” The bard chimed in, trying to lighten the mood again. Instead he watched how Aiden's right eye tightened. “Yeah, about that-” the witcher started, but was promptly cut off by him again. “Figuratively! Of course I meant it felt like a century. I was exaggerating, I'm a bard!” The deadpan look Aiden gave him was more than telling.

“Anyways! I think we really should get going. We've been pretty lucky so far, so I guess it's probably only a matter of time before someone comes looking for us.” The bard said, looking out the window of their small room to make sure that his fears hadn't become reality yet. “Need a helping hand?” he asked and watched with amusement as Aiden's face turned from disbelieve to being outright scandalized. “Fuck off!” He laughed and flipped Jaskier the bird, before finally getting out of bed. “You are going to end up in hell, bard,” the Cat Witcher tsked at him and went to collect his clothes from a stool nearby. “Oh shush, don't even pretend we don't share the same humor, pussycat.”

“Never said I was going to to meet Melitele either.”

“Ugh, sunshine, you're so dramatic!” Jaskier sighed, well aware of the irony behind his words. He watched, out the corner of his eyes, how Aiden slipped into his shirt, pants and coat. He struggled to secure the green sash around his waist that was supposed to keep his pants up like a belt. Aiden fought for a moment before managing to tighten the knot by holding part of the sash down with his elbow. Jaskier quietly thanked the gods for the small success and shouldered his pack and lute, checking the room twice for things he might have forgotten, while Aiden put on his boots and silver sword. He knew the Cat knew that he was watching like a hawk, but neither of them braced the topic of Jaskier's over-protectiveness.

Aiden was about to shoulder his sea sack when the two men were stopped mid-movement by loud voices coming from outside. Their eyes met and Aiden, closest to the open window, dropped to the floor just as quickly as Jaskier pressed himself against the far back wall of their room. Jerking his head towards the window he silently but sternly told Aiden to check out the commotion. After all he was the witcher, not Jaskier.

Aiden made a face at the bard that could we equally translated as 'Duh.' or 'Fuck you.' but dutifully inched closer to the window and listened. Not a moment later the witcher's pupil thinned into a predatory slit that fixated on Jaskier in a way that unmistakably meant trouble for them. “Redania,” Aiden mouthed without making a sound and then proceeded to make his way towards Jaskier, crawling on all... threes, in a way that he would've found hilarious if it weren't for their dire situation. “Soldiers,” Aiden whispered once he had reached the bard, “looking for a bard and his witcher in the name of the crown. They probably think I'm Geralt.”

“Fuck,” Jaskier cursed underneath his breath, his heart hammering inside his chest as he willed his brain to think of a plan.

“There's a back door!” he suddenly remembered, having seen one of the innkeeper's daughters enter the house through the kitchens. “If we make it downstairs in time, we can escape through the yard.”

Aiden bit his lip. “Too risky. We don't know if any of the soldiers are already inside the house and the courtyard could be closed off. I say we climb through the window in the hallway and down the balcony, then make a run for it. Through the market and straight into the forest.”

“You want to jump off a balcony with two freshly healed legs and then get us separated in a crowd, are you mad!?” Jaskier hissed and slapped his hand against Aiden's shoulder. “There's no way the courtyard is closed off! And even if, we can just climb up and out.”

“Oh, but that's not risky at all. What happens if they surround us?”

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✨🌿🌼✨

How do you pronounce Kaedwen in your head? like Cat-Wen or Kate-Wen? I've always said it like cat-wen, but I started watching the nightmare wolf movie thingy and I'm pretty sure they said kate-wen. and I didn't like it.

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[middlingmay]

I finished my Witcher fic!!

I know this is mostly s MOTA / Clegan blog, but I am so pleased to have finally finished this!

It was one of those stories that had a hard ending, unavoidably, so you put yourself off writing it. But I finally got there.

So if any of you are Witcher fans, and you want to read a Warlord AU before Geralt actually becomes a warlord, featuring:

Jaskier running headlong into trouble

An odd friendship between a bard and a viper

Geralt and Jaskier sniping, but unable to do without the other

Pavetta, baby Ciri, and a while host of orphans

And a whole lot of heartache...

Then please do go read Songs of War! But fair warning, it gets really rough and isn’t exactly a happy ending.

Now I'm going to bed. For like, three days.

[avixenk]

HELLO I'M BACK ON MY AU BULLSHIT

Witcher!Jaskier might just be the most fucked up experiment in Witcher history. Those fucked-in-the-head mages decided they wanted to see what would happen if you took a mutated Cat Witcher kid and then mutate them again with the Viper methods. Somehow Jaskier (Julian) survived it so now he's double mutated, part Cat and part Viper. Arguably the two most fucked up of the schools.

Perhaps he's just the normal level of crazy, maybe double, or maybe in some cosmic joke or other the two crazies cancelled each other out.

His abilities and senses are either matched or are better than Geralt's. Maybe his hair is all white too or there are just a few strands of brown hair that clung on.

Jaskier is very much both a Cat and a Viper Witcher. He's gone through both of their training and trials. He's done some awful things for coin and he, as witchers do, hates himself for them.

He melted down his cat and viper medallions and with it made a Sabertooth Tiger headed medallion for himself.

[ohwhoopsok]

This fic is a gift for @couch-of-friendship as a thank you for making a donation to In Our Own Voice through @fandomtrumpshate!

Also, I found my beta reader @beyoncesfiancee the FTH Regiment of Fan Laborers! It was a fantastic experience and if you've never checked out ROFL, I would highly recommend it. Beta readers are always a huge help--and a lot of fun, too, in this case. 🥰

🐍

The Witcher | Letho/Jaskier | 9.7k | Mutagenitals

🐍

Summary:

Jaskier is unusually silent as he enters the hot springs, steps unaccompanied by the humming or chattering that usually follows him around. Letho doesn’t turn to face him, leaves his arms spread along the edge of warm stone as Jaskier approaches. He lays himself out behind Letho’s arm, the rush of his breath the only warning Letho gets before Jaskier kisses the back of his neck. “You’ve never let me catch you like this before,” Jaskier murmurs, slowly kissing up behind Letho’s ear. Letho doesn’t let himself lean into the attention even as arousal slithers down his spine. “Nobody’s a fan of catchin’ a Viper naked,” he says. The words make Jaskier hum, but he doesn’t pause his gentle kisses. “You’re worried about scaring me off, then,” he concludes. (Letho thinks having mutated genitals is going to cost him Jaskier. He is quite wrong.)

🐍

🔞Read here on Ao3!🔞

[underthebluerain]

jaskier and radovid should’ve gone to the ball are you kidding me. a vipers’ den even bigger and more poisonous than usual for both. everybody watching everybody else like hawks. everybody wanting to fuck everybody else. at least three different secret plans happening at the same time. keeping their new thing secret but flirting because how can you resist. BARD-OFF BETWEEN JASKIER AND VALDO MARX. RADOVID AND JASKIER DANCING. WE WERE ROBBED

[leighsartworks216]

The Viper: Rewritten

Chapter 9

First Chapter - Previous Chapter

Jaskier x gn!Witcher!reader

Heyyyyy soooooo I'm alive. It just took me a while for the Witcher fixation to come back enough to motivate me to work on this again. I still have really cool plans further down the line, I just really struggled with this chapter a lot until I realized I didn't have to use what I'd written before as groundwork at all.

Jaskier may be out of character, idk. I only watched a couple of compilations to get him back in my head

Warnings: mentions of injuries, pain, intimate moments that are not portrayed as intimate, referenced nudity, swearing

Word Count: 2068

Masterlist

AO3

Tag List Form

The steaming water stung your wounds, just on the verge of being painful and pleasant. Slowly but surely, it eased your tense muscles, washing away the tension crying over your dead brethren brought. Sandalwood and vanilla wafted into your nose.

Your eyes were still raw. You scooped a handful of water and scrubbed at your face, working to remove the evidence of your emotions from recent memory. It was, well, unsettling how easy it was to be human again around the bard. Growing up, strong emotions, outside of pride and joy, were punished until it was beaten into you to conceal them or otherwise forget they existed at all. Of course, back then, you’d taken to hiding them rather than erasing them from your repertoire. Stuldweck had been the only one to keep your secret.

Perhaps it was for the simple fact that Jaskier understood the gruffness of Witchers better than any other mortal on the Continent. He’d never begrudge you that act of intimidation within towns and villages, and you’d dare to say he even welcomed the fact you weren’t as up your ass as Geralt had been.

Or maybe it was all you - the last vestiges of your humanity the mages hadn’t been able to strip away, reaching out with both hands to hold onto someone else.

You could remember the teachings of your mentors, telling you now to get it together, to stop being a fucking rat, and be a viper.

You dunked your head under the water.

These thoughts were bringing you in useless circles, and what did it matter anyhow? Even Geralt knew that to stand completely alone as a Witcher is a lost battle. There should be no need to fight yourself over this.

When you came up, your head felt a mite clearer. But your senses prickled with the sudden awareness of just how quiet the room was. You peeked over your shoulder. The screen divider had been moved just enough to give him some line-of-sight, in case you needed help with your injuries as they were. And just there, eyes affixed to your back, was just the bard that tormented your thoughts.

“I can feel you staring.”

He jolted out of his revelry, blinking and turning away, shaking his head of whatever thoughts were bugging him. You wondered briefly if he was going through a similar war as you; bugged by how fast he put his trust into another Witcher.

“Sorry. I wasn’t trying to,” he cleared his throat, “you know, sneak a peek, or anything.”

You hummed. A grin tugged at your lips, tempted to tease him about it. But the notes he began plucking on his lute as a distraction were an obvious insight into his mind. He’d only really played the old songs - those about Geralt, the incredible White Wolf - to make money, never to make anything new. But if he finally found the strength to scribble down some words and notes, it was better, then, to bite your tongue and give the bard the silence needed for his playing.

So you turned back around, and listened to the stuttered melody as you considered what comes next. Your path to Oxenfurt now that you’re in Tridam, the repairs needed to your armor and weapons, the potions you’d need to prepare for the road as well as provisions. As much as your body needed to rest to fully heal, bolstered by potions and mutations as it was, there would be no time for it, and resting would not grant you the coin needed to survive the trip.

If you could get to Crinfrid, you could cut through to Tretogor. It would bypass Vartburg and Drakenborg, towns you could rest and resupply in, but winter wouldn’t wait forever. Then, south west to Rdestowa Laka; it would put you just a few days out from Oxenfurt. Was it the best route? Perhaps not. It left you on the road more often than not, but the sooner you could reach Oxenfurt, the more time Jaskier would have to settle for the coming months.

And what would you do when you get there?

Visions of these moments, of times spent in inns with the bard, chatting and relaxed, flit by. Temptations to live like a human. To sit and watch the snow fall without the burden of wading through the snow to kill wraiths and rotfiends. Humans had holidays, too. Celebrations of winter and enchanting gifts.

Could you really experience that, too?

No, you think. You couldn’t.

Jaskier is humming under his breath as you resign to getting out of the bath. Whatever blood he’d missed while cleaning you in your unconsciousness was well and truly washed away by now, and moping in the steam could only serve you for so long.

You hissed as you pushed yourself forward, the stitches along your spine pulling taught at your skin. Jaskier was up on his feet in a moment.

“Let me help. We really don’t need you hurting yourself any more; my needlework isn’t quite up to snuff.” He appeared at your side, leaned down and guiding your good arm over his shoulders. With a hand at your side, he helped you get to your feet. As soon as you were standing, he grabbed the towel hanging on the room divider and handed it to you, eyes safely averted.

“You ever tried?”

He huffed a laugh as he sat back down on the bed, pointedly looking at the open journal next to him. “On one rather optimistic day, I’d had the brilliant idea of sewing the Countess de Stael a dress.”

You held the towel around you as you padded across the floor to your bags. Clean clothes were a luxury you couldn’t quite manage. The shirt you dragged out smelled like Bayard, and the pants were beginning to fray. But it was always better than marinating in dried blood, and you’re sure Jaskier would like his own clothes back.

“Of course, I had absolutely no idea how to go about making an entire dress, let alone how to sew fabric together.” You carried your clothes back by the tub and shifted the divider so you were hidden from view. He listened to the rustling of fabric, thumbing thoughtlessly at the strings of his lute once more. “By the time I’d ‘finished’, I had what was essentially a potato sack with frills.”

You snorted at the image. “So asking you to patch up my clothes is out of the question, then?”

“Ah, yeah, definitely.”

You push the screen to the side, fully dressed in your black garb, and drop your dirty clothes back in your bag. You begin to toss the white shirt on top of Jaskier’s things, until you remember his more refined tastes. You’d never really given any thought to the state of clothes aside from if they were wearable. Not even in Gorthur Gvaed, when you technically had your own room and clothes to tend to. It was better just to chuck them all somewhere the rats wouldn’t eat through them.

You did your damned best to fold it in a way that made sense. It was shit, you know that. You had no idea what to do with the sleeves. Jaskier chuckled behind you once he realized what you were doing.

“Don’t worry about that, Viper.”

You huffed, tossing the shirt with his stuff. “You can’t sew, and I can’t fold. Good thing we’re not launderers.”

You grabbed your bag off the floor and carried it to the bed. You should patch up your armor, at least. And you were running low on potions. And it’d be a good idea to sharpen your blades; bandits probably banged them up when they tossed all your shit around.

Jaskier sighed as he watched you begin pulling things out and laying them on the bed. “Gods, are all Witchers allergic to rest, or something?” He gestured incredulously to your arm. “You’re injured! Stop,” he pulled your sewing kit away, “pulling more stuff out! You should be resting, healing.”

“I told you, Jask, I don’t rest until a job is done. Now give it back.” You held your hand out for the kit.

That only seemed to spur him on more. “What job?! Taking me to Oxenfurt isn’t- isn’t a job! I’m not even paying you for it!”

You reached for the kit, despite the burning along your spine. “Until you’re there safe, it is a job! Coin or no coin!” He stretched his arm out further, lute and journal forgotten in favor of playing keep away. “Jaskier, give me back my shit!”

“Nah-ah-ah!” His lute slid aside as he climbed further on the bed to keep his hand out of your reach. “Not until you promise to rest!” His eyes lit up with an idea. “I’ll help, even! Just tell me what to do!”

Undeterred, you climbed after him. He knew, despite your wounds, it would not be difficult for you to manhandle him. You could easily grab his arm and wrench it back to you, drag him by an ankle back to your side of the bed. But you didn’t.

“You can’t sew!” You hissed as you climbed over him, straddling his waist and pressing his chest down, reaching over to try grabbing your kit, just inches still out of reach.

“No, but I can do something else! Anything! I’ll- I’ll sharpen your knives-”

“Daggers.”

“Mix potions, anything!” Your hand finally caught the kit and you met his eyes, breathing far heavier than you should be. You really were out of fighting form, no matter how much you hated to admit it. His big, blue eyes pleaded up at you. “Please? Let me be useful.”

You stared for a hard moment. Your eyes were orange around the edges. He’d never noticed before. You sighed. “Fine.” He lit up.

“Really?”

You tugged the kit out of his hand and began the effort of sitting up. Which, unsurprisingly, hurt far worse than crawling over him to begin with. You grit your teeth and forced yourself up anyway, Jaskier’s hands suddenly finding your waist to support you up.

“Shit. Probably not the best I could have done.” He grimaced apologetically as you rolled yourself off of him to sit on the edge of the bed.

“No, probably not,” you grunted. You carefully felt along your spine, testing the injury with featherlight touches. It was nowhere near as painful as it could be, but that wasn’t saying much when it already felt like some beast was trying to rip you open with a thousand needle-like talons.

He scootched to sit down beside you. He felt helpless in all this. Having to watch as you suffer through injuries gathered to save both your skins, when all he had to show for it was a healing scratch and immense guilt. “Would that flower mixture-thing, whatever it was, would that help?” He gestured holding the small container in his hand.

“A bit, but not enough to bother.” You sat still for another moment before you seemed to push it all back far enough to ignore, opening your eyes again and turning toward your bag. “I don’t have a whole lot you can do to help me; I’ve just gotten used to doing it all alone.”

“Hey, you promised.”

You waved his worry away. “I know.” You looked at all the jars and herbs crammed inside, at the whetstone in its own pocket. Did you trust Jaskier enough to properly sharpen your weapons?

…

Well…

No.

You turn toward him, leveling him with a serious look. “If I show you forbidden knowledge that would get me killed if any other Witchers found out I’d done so, do you swear on your life not to ever share that knowledge?”

He blinked at you. “Wha- Really? You want to give me forbidden knowledge?” He scoffed when you didn’t show any signs of this being a joke. “Are you sure that’s the best idea?”

“That depends. Would you keep it a secret?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Really?”

“Yes!”

“Even if you were being tortured for it?”

“Ye- Tortured?! What kind of fucking information is this?!”

“Jaskier! Would you?”

“Yes, fine, alright! I won’t tell a bloody soul!”

“Good.” You turned back to your bag and began pulling out jars of all sorts of things. “I’m gonna teach you how to make Witcher potions.”

---

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[creepslayer7]

promt to write or recommendations

Does anyone know of any ao3 stories for the witcher of jaskier Interacting with all of the witchers and to them he's like witcher Beyonce or something and he is just fawning over all over them like that meme "oh its adorable... oh it's traumatized."

And they're just flabbergasted that the jaskier finds them cute. Especially eskel(because of his face scar) or the cats/vipers (because they kill humans which he is)

[endiness]

"does the witcher know how lucky he is to have you?"

okay, but the radovid and radskier of this line though? like, radovid has grown up in court and lived there his entire life and he's had to wear a mask to at least some degree or another at all times to survive that place. and regardless of whatever feelings and relationships he may have with other people in whatever capacity that is, even just platonically with his brother, he's probably still needed to be on guard at all times because of just how disingenuous that type of environment is and how out for themselves everyone around him is.

and then meanwhile jaskier comes along and radovid's already a fan of his music and surely he has to know how much jaskier improved geralt's reputation from what it was and jaskier is so clearly opposed to the idea of "settling down" yet he's willing to sacrifice his own freedom if it means keeping the people he loves safe and jaskier willingly throws himself into the viper's den to seek out radovid's help for geralt's sake (and ciri's) and he's able to get it. and then on top of that, jaskier is able to see through radovid's mask in an instant and he's honest with radovid in a way that no one else in his life has been before?

of course radovid would express that sentiment when jaskier is likely the first genuine, true, loyal person that radovid's met in his life and when so much of jaskier's loyalty is dedicated to geralt. (like, the only person and relationship that radovid has in his life that even remotely comes close is probably his brother. but even then, i think a lot of their relationship is also probably surface level even with how much they love and care about each other.)

(also, interesting to think about that line in context of the next scene, too, wherein, despite it ultimately blowing up in his face, radovid is offended by how disrespectful dijkstra is to his brother and he tries to defend him and prove that vizimir is smarter than dijkstra thinks he is.)

[islenthatur]

A Choice

The moon was full and high in the sky, the first moon of the harvest and Prince Jaskier was wandering the edge of his kingdom plucking the strings of his lute as he eyed the humans that walked the Path between the Light Realm and of the Dark. His father and sister were at the feast with the rest of his people to give blessings of the realm as they celebrated but Jaskier was never one for traditions and he had his own.

“I could hear you from a mile away Lark, there are monsters near who would eat you whole,” A dark voice rumbled from the decaying grass of the Dark Fields, pulling a smirk from his lips.

“But what if that is what I wish for oh King?” He replied teasingly, stopping at the spot where the Path – and the gap between realms – grew thin.

Yellow eyes gleamed in the shadows, fanged teeth pulled into a toothy grin as Geralt stepped into the light, his snow-white hair illuminating in the soft moonlight making his pale skin stand out more and, as always, stealing Jaskier’s breath away.

“Then I would call you foolish, my love.” His grin grew wider, softer that always sent Jaskier’s heart fluttering. Though the smile turned sad as Geralt pushed his hand against the barrier. “It is still too early.”

“I cannot wait any longer my Wolf, I yearn for you.” Jaskier whispered as he slung his lute on his back. “Curse my father who made this barrier, curse the lands who forbid our love. I will not wait anymore.”

Geralt slammed against the barrier as Jaskier straightened, snarling as his love pushed through the barrier into the human realm with a scream. He himself couldn’t leave the land, if he did it would plunge his realm into Chaos that he spent several centuries to get back under control from the Dark Mages.

Another scream tore at Jaskier’s lips and the scent of blood caused Geralt to go feral, he broke the barrier with a mighty roar and yanked his Lark into the decaying grass towards the grove of Moonflower’s he had planted long ago for Jaskier, all the while careful of the wounded wings of his beloved.

“That was foolish Julek, you could have died.” He grunted as he carefully laid him down on the soft bed of moss. “Your father will come for you now.”

Pained laughter escaped Jaskier’s lips at that, giving his love a feral look. “No, he won't.”

“Jask what did you do?” Unease bubbled in Geralt’s stomach as he brushed a strand of hair from Julek’s cheek, eyes watching critically for any unhealed wounds.

“I am no longer the Prince of the Light…” Jaskier trailed off as Geralt’s eyes snapped to his and darkened.  “I gave my crown to Violet before I left with her blessing…”

Realisation flooded Geralt at the words. His Julek, his most beloved had… he had given up his titles and place among the fields of the Light Fae for him. The only true spark of light in his life besides his daughter and family. Worry churned in his chest the longer he thought, his Lark was a creature of beauty and sunshine, not rot and darkness. Spending several nights together in secret was different to spending a lifetime at his side, would he end up regretting his decision like Yen?

Will he too come to resent him one day.

“My wolf stop, there is nothing that will make me regret this… regret you.” Jaskier stated firmly as he cupped Geralt’s cheek and pulling him from the dark. “I love you, Geralt.”

Closing his eyes Geralt leant into the touch. “And I you.”

[micdixart]

So as ive said homeworks been keeping me busy but i have had a few moments

To beat up sang

On twitter i pondered about an old viper school buddy who just hated sangs guts and thought about them meeting in the future~ thus some sangst and then sang being hugged by his twitter witcher oc bfs and also jaskier <3

[inexplicifics]

More snippet requests: Cats Among Wolves Cedric/Axel, Weird omegaverse war prize thing, Pirate Aiden & Prince Lambert

Cats Among Wolves Cedric & Axel:

Fuck, this is good, Cedric opines, sipping greedily at the soup Gaetan is holding for him. “The old Wolf knows his way around a kitchen,” Gaetan agrees, nodding. “I think I gained most of a stone the first winter I spent here.” “You needed it,” Eskel puts in. “All you Cats are too damn scrawny.” “Wolves are just absurdly big,” Gaetan sniffs. “And what are Vipers, then?” Eskel - teases. And Gaetan is grinning.

Weird omegaverse war prize thing:

The barbarian king sits on an unadorned stone throne on a low dais, glowering down at his court. He is almost as handsome as he is terrifying, with bone-white hair and glowing golden eyes and really remarkable chiseled features. He wears no mark of his rank, not even a circlet to bind back his hair, but Jaskier doesn’t think anyone could take him for anything but a king. His face is utterly impassive as he watches his warriors inspect their prizes.

Pirate!Aiden and Prince!Lambert

“Lovely, isn’t she?” Kett says after a minute. “She?” Lambert asks, wondering which of the sailors Kett means. “My Stripy Kitty,” Kett explains. “All ships are female.” “Why?” Lambert asks, frowning. It’s a boat. Kett chuckles. “Who the hell knows? Tradition, I guess. But she’s a beautiful bitch, my lovely Kitty.” “I know fuck-all about ships,” Lambert admits. “Want to learn?” Kett looks over to grin at him. “I bet we could make a sailor of you in a week.”

[subastian-swallows]

Hi me again, first I want to say that the game of Thrones Sebastian is so sweet and fantastic 💖 Second I know that you are submerged with bots ideas but yesterday I had this idea and I wanted to tell you, of course you decide if is possible or not 😂 Witcher Sebastian sounds good to my ears (also one of the schools for witchers is the school of the viper so Slytherin vibes lol) Ty for your work and time 💖

OMFG WITCHER SEB! FUCK!

*writes that down*

God I love you guys, you have such great ideas — doesn’t Garreth give off such good Jaskier vibes???

🫣🫣 ALSO never feel bad about sending me ideas! I love it!