#jaskier Tumblr posts

  • a-kind-of-merry-war
    17.06.2021 - 9 minutes ago

    So, I’ve been struggling to write these past few days, and to get over it I took a heap of prompts that I got sent a couple of weeks ago and combined them to make, just, the most trope-laden thing ever. I think there are 10 or 11 different tropes/clichés in here. 2.5k, rated T.


    Jaskier trots down the sunlit road, pleased with the new books bouncing against his hip in his satchel and blithely working out the chords to his newest song, when his attention is suddenly and not altogether unpleasantly caught by the sight of Geralt hurrying from around a corner towards him.

    “Geralt!” He chirrups, “How was the—”

    “We need to get out of here,” says Geralt, without stopping.


    Geralt grabs his arm and starts tugging him back the way he came, not quite running. Jaskier twists around just in time to see a group of men emerge from the bend in the road, peering around. One of them shouts. “The witcher!”


    He quickens his pace, still looking over his shoulder. One of the men is pointing, another reaching over his back to grab - oh, fuck - a crossbow.


    “We don’t have time for—”


    He twists them both around, pulling Geralt towards him and pinning him beneath his body against the closest wall as the crossbow bolt zooms past his back with a deadly sounding thwip.


    He’s interrupted by the heavy sound of his bag sliding right off his shoulder and onto the floor, books and all. The bolt has sliced cleanly through the leather strap. He barely has a moment to register the near miss before Geralt grabs his wrist and they really are running, the men a little way behind.

    “We need to hide,” Geralt pants. “Just...”

    Without another word, he pulls them both quickly left, skidding into an alleyway between two lopsided buildings barely big enough for one person, let alone two. Geralt doesn’t let go of Jaskier’s wrist as he squeezes them both into the tiny, dead-end space, and by the time he releases him Jaskier is pressed fully against his chest, his hands resting on Geralt’s shoulders, their noses nearly brushing.

    He should be terrified, Jaskier knows. There’s a sting between his shoulder blades, and the thrum of the crossbow bolt is still ringing unpleasantly in his ears. He could have been killed.

    But all he can think of is the heat of Geralt’s body pressed so close to his, the way he feels beneath his hands, the way Geralt’s arms crowd him, the hot huff of his breath temptingly close to his lips. His mouth goes dry and his heart thuds in his chest like a drum - like a whole army of drummers - in a way that has nothing to do with the brush with death.

    “Did it hit you?” Geralt mutters, keeping his voice low and his eyes towards the entry to the alleyway.

    Jaskier forces himself to speak. “I…” he swallows heavily, wriggling his shoulders, wincing as the pain flares. “I think so. Fuck. Geralt—”

    Geralt finally looks at him, and Jaskier can feel his breath on his cheek. His expression is… angry. Pained. “I shouldn’t have gotten you tangled in this,” he says.

    Jaskier tries and fails to smile. “I’m already tangled up in you,” he mutters, horribly aware of how true that is. “Too late now.”


    There’s a noise from the road beyond - a muffled shout - and Geralt freezes beneath Jaskier’s hands as his head snaps around. This close, Jaskier can see the way his pupils constrict as he focuses his gaze towards the bright rectangle of light framed between the two towering buildings. It’s fascinating, and Jaskier finds himself entranced, even with the looming threat of discovery.

    They stand there for a moment, utterly still. Waiting.

    But it’s just a merchant, plying his wares. He passes quickly, and Geralt relaxes a fraction, releasing the breath he’d been holding. It tickles over Jaskier’s skin, past his ear, far too warm; far too close. Geralt peers back towards him, his eyes still focused.

    “Are you alright?” Jaskier doesn’t respond. He barely registers Geralt’s words. “Jaskier.”

    Jaskier blinks, forcing himself to regain at least some semblance of dignity. He reminds himself, again, that there are men after them - armed men.

    “I’m fine,” he says. It comes out weaker than he intended, his voice cracking around the final word.

    Geralt pins him beneath that gaze, like he’s examining him. And then, with no small amount of wriggling and mavouring of them both, he reaches up and grabs Jaskier’s hand where it rests against his chest, slotting their fingers together. He squeezes, and Jaskier feels like his heart may be about to give out. Geralt leans closer - not that he needs to, in this tiny space - and Jaskier suppresses a shudder.

    “Are you sure you’re alright?” He whispers, straight into Jaskier’s ear.

    Jaskier is very much not alright. Geralt’s fingers twitch between his own, and their legs are tangled together, and his body is on fire in every place where they touch - which right now feels like it’s everywhere. Geralt’s lips ghost above his ear, brushing against the skin, sending fluttering little butterflies directly down his spine, swirling around his stomach and then - hot and urgent - even lower.

    He cannot get a hard-on right now, not when they’re running for their lives, not when he was just shot with a fucking crossbow, even if the wound it left behind is little more than a scratch.

    “Fine,” he says, and his treacherous voice shakes again. “I’m fine,” he repeats, this time with more certainty. “Really.”

    Geralt frowns at him. Jaskier realises how he must look to the witcher, who can hear his thundering heart, feel his racing pulse in his fingertips. He doesn’t look thrilled: he looks terrified. No wonder Geralt is concerned. Usually, such attentiveness would make him ache, but right now it’s all too much.

    He sighs, the expanding of his chest only forcing them closer together.

    “Trust me, Geralt.” He shakes his head, as much as he can in the cramped space without brushing their lips together. “You’re so—”

    Geralt’s eyes go suddenly wide, and with no warning whatsoever he lets go of Jaskier’s hand and instead clamps his palm over his mouth, smothering his words. Jaskier manages a brief, shocked mumble, feeling Geralt’s fingers pressing into his cheek, before hearing the voices that Geralt must have caught just a few seconds before his human hearing.

    They both go still. Geralt watches the entrance to the alleyway, eyes narrowed, while Jaskier watches his face, waiting. His palm is softer than he’d expected, pressed hotly against his lips. He can’t help but wonder what Geralt’s skin tastes like. Sweat and horse, probably. Somehow that thought does nothing to ease the urge to lick him.

    The voices grow louder. He’s no idea if it’s the people who were chasing Geralt, or just bystanders going about their lives.

    After a long, drawn-out moment Geralt removes his hand. Jaskier has to stop himself from chasing the touch, mouth clamped tightly shut. He can hear his heart pounding in his ears, his skin flushed. He edges closer.

    “What the fuck do we do?” He mutters.

    For once, Geralt shrugs. Jaskier represses the urge to moan. Clearly Geralt hadn’t thought this far ahead - or had assumed the alleyway would be open on both sides. But… the men were after Geralt, not him. They must have spotted Geralt grabbing him and leading him away, but that doesn’t necessarily mean they know who he is. As far as they’re aware, Jaskier was just a human shield, tossed aside as soon as Geralt had no further use for him. Which means—

    There’s a shout. Footsteps. And suddenly Jaskier doesn’t have time to chase that thought as a shadow crosses over them both and—

    He does the only sensible thing under the circumstances. He twists himself around, shielding Geralt’s body with his own once more, places his hands to either side of Geralt’s face to conceal as much of it as he can, and kisses him.

    This isn’t how he’d expected this to happen. In fact, he hadn’t expected this to happen at all, never allowing himself to hope beyond fluttering daydreams. Geralt’s lips are a little dry, but perfectly pliant beneath him, and he doesn’t pull away. Of course he doesn’t: allowing himself to be kissed by Jaskier could be the only thing stopping Geralt getting a crossbow bolt through his chest.

    Infuriatingly, it’s a good kiss. Geralt’s hands press to Jaskier’s chest, and he can feel his fingers twitching. He can almost imagine that Geralt is reaching for him - trying to touch him, trying to feel his fluttering heartbeat beneath his ribs. He parts his lips just a fraction - only so he can take a breath, he tells himself - and Geralt mirrors the movement, like he’s letting him in.

    Adrenaline mingles with lust, and he can almost forget why he’s doing this - almost pretend that it’s real - surging forwards, letting his hands drift to the back of Geralt’s head, tangling in his hair. He can’t tell if he just imagines the soft noise that Geralt makes as Jaskier greedily licks into his mouth, or if it’s real as he chases the thrill he’d never thought he’d be allowed to have.

    And then Geralt pulls back. Fuck. He’s finally gone too far. Jaskier stutters, trying to put into words what he’d been trying to achieve - but Geralt speaks first.

    “I think they’re gone.”

    Jaskier can feel his face turning red. “Ah…” he mutters. “Are you sure?”

    Geralt peers over his shoulder. “Sure.”

    “Well, then.” Jaskier unhands his face, finally, and gives him a business-like tap on the shoulders. “We should… um...”

    “That was a good idea.”

    Jaskier freezes with his hands still flattened against Geralt’s chest. “Oh.” His fingers wriggle. “Really?”

    “Hmm.” Jaskier realises that Geralt’s hands are still resting against his chest, his fingers digging into the soft linen of his shirt. “It would have been even better if that had actually been the men looking for me.”

    Shit. “Was it… not?”

    “It was not.”


    “But I’m sure if we stay here they’ll show up eventually, and you can try again.”

    Jaskier’s tongue is too large for his mouth. His lungs are devoid of air. His skin has gone numb. “Ahh—” he manages, awkwardly.

    “Or,” Geralt says, tilting his head, “we can get out of this town before someone else tries to fire a crossbow at us.” He pauses. “I need to check the wound on your back.”

    “It’s not that ba—”

    “I can smell the blood, Jaskier.” In a sudden movement Geralt ducks forward, burying his head into the crook of Jaskier’s neck, inhaling. Jaskier doesn’t even try to stop the gasp that escapes his lips. “...Amongst other things,” he continues, lips pressed against his skin. “I thought you were scared, at first.” Jaskier stifles a laugh as Geralt’s lips flutter against him. “You should have been. You were shot.”

    He leans back, and with nothing but inches between them it’s clear he doesn’t share Jaskier’s amusement.


    “You could have been killed.”

    “So could you.”

    Geralt scowls at him. “Not as easily as you.”

    “I saved you. Twice.”

    “You saved me once. The second time is debatable.”

    Jaskier sniffs at him. “Ungrateful bastard.” He leans forward, angling for another kiss in an attempt to stop Geralt glaring at him, but Geralt backs even further away, pressing his back fully against the wall.

    “Why did you do it?” He asks.

    Jaskier really does laugh, now, damn his attempts to be silent. “Why do you fucking think, Geralt?”

    With nowhere else for Geralt to go, it’s easy as anything for Jaskier to close the space between them in another, forceful kiss.

    “That’s why.” Geralt looks a little dazed, so Jaskier continues. “I assume you’re not going to tell me why you were even being chased by armed men to begin with?”

    Geralt sighs. “Not until you let me check the wound on your back.”

    “Fine,” Jaskier huffs, keen to seem nonplussed even though now the pain is flaring once more, now the adrenaline is wearing off. “Let’s get out of this gods-forsaken alley, shall we?”

    “After you, then?”

    Jaskier tries to move away, but in the crush of their bodies and the tangle of their legs, it proves a little difficult. Geralt raises his eyebrows at him.

    “This is your fault, you know,” Jaskier spits. “Next time you need to escape, don’t squeeze me into an alleyway barely big enough for a cat.”

    Before he can slide away, Geralt hooks a hand around him, tugging him closer again.

    “You’re not helping, Gera—”

    He kisses him. Jaskier immediately falls silent. “And miss getting to do that?” He says, voice low. “Are you sure?”

    Jaskier knows when he’s been beaten. “Next time,” he sighs, “find a wider alley.”

    He can feel Geralt’s lips twist into a smile against his own. “Next time I will.”

    #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #i'm hoping this'll kick-start the old engines #writing anything has been... difficult this week #its very annoying >:C #literally i took a list of tropes and highlighted like... 10 or 11 to try to include
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  • ao3feed-geralt-jaskier
    17.06.2021 - 27 minutes ago
    #AO3 works tagged 'Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion' #ao3feed#fanfic#the witche
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  • whatkindofnameisvolta
    17.06.2021 - 45 minutes ago

    I don’t get why people say Jaskier | Dandelion isn’t a major character / ei don’t expect too much of him etc.

    Sure he’s not a driving plot point but I’ve read most of the books now and most of wherever Geralt is (discounting the short stories and even then he’s in at least 5) Dandelion is there. He’s not often (at all) doing anything productive but he’s certainly hovering in the background, writing his silly little book or whatever, wading through rivers with Geralt (+friends), trying to find Ciri with Geralt, riding into Brokilon etc.

    At the moment (halfway through tower of the swallow) he’s beating/on par with Yennefer in terms of pages, he’s just less plot important than her, he has no independent storyline. (Ciri, of course, has the most pages AND plot importance)

    #Jaskier#dandelion #at least this is my interpretation #maybe I’m just being obtuse #and of course we can’t trust lh to be book/character faithful
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  • ao3feed-geralt-jaskier
    17.06.2021 - 1 hour ago
    #AO3 works tagged 'Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion' #ao3feed#fanfic#the witche
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  • ao3feed-geralt-jaskier
    17.06.2021 - 1 hour ago
    #AO3 works tagged 'Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion' #ao3feed#fanfic#the witche
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  • angelicwasp
    17.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    toss a coin to your witcher im fucking tired. a teacher yelled at me today. kinda wanted to start crying ngl.

    when is season 2 even coming out??

    anyways. oh valley of plenty.

    #the witcher#henry cavill#jaskier #geralt of rivia #yennefer of vengerberg #mcu#marvel#wanda maximoff#shoot me #in the face preferably #i hate school
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  • toss-a-coin-to-your-stan-account
    17.06.2021 - 1 hour ago

    ...okay but what about a fanfic where Jaskier DID get turned into Geralt's sword

    #mine #or could become it #like #soul eater style #the witcher#witcher #geralt of rivia #geralt#geraskier#jaskier
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  • writinglizards
    17.06.2021 - 1 hour ago
    #reader reviews #i hate doing this on mobile lmao whoops #and im not gonna say jaskier vibes bc everything is jaskier vibes lmao
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  • astralalmighty
    17.06.2021 - 2 hours ago

    The Witcher fandom heard that buttercups are poisonous and latched into that like a zebra mussel, didn’t they

    #I’ve seen so many somparisons between bamf jaskier and buttercups #I love them #but I also find it hilarious #jaskier#the witcher#buttercups
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  • ao3feed-geralt-jaskier
    17.06.2021 - 2 hours ago
    #AO3 works tagged 'Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion' #ao3feed#fanfic#the witche
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  • ao3feed-geralt-jaskier
    17.06.2021 - 2 hours ago
    #AO3 works tagged 'Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion' #ao3feed#fanfic#the witche
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  • ao3feed-geralt-jaskier
    17.06.2021 - 2 hours ago
    #AO3 works tagged 'Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion' #ao3feed#fanfic#the witche
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  • jaskiersvalley
    17.06.2021 - 2 hours ago

    Weight of Feelings

    Witchers had no emotions, that was a common fact in a world where everyone sagged under the weight of their feelings. Spines curved under the pressure of emotions, the more someone felt the harder they crumpled. Positive emotions helped ease the pressure but, given the state of the Continent, nobody could hide their misery. In a world of curved spines only Witchers walked fully upright, void of all emotions, untainted by the weight of feelings. The straightness of their spines was a privilege that set them apart, made them hated. Thankfully they were unable to feel anything in the face of hatred that was thrown in their direction, even being spat on and abused didn't curve their backs.

    Jaskier was one of the fortunate, he had a small hump on his back but, by and large, he was unaffected by his emotions, happy and sheltered enough to be one of the less afflicted. He trailed after Geralt, feeling his victories and success for him, buoyed by his glory. All through it Geralt never changed. Even when they were chased from a village without pay, his back remained ramrod straight while Jaskier's hunched a little.

    "Why don't I come with you for the winter?" Jaskier asked and Geralt stared flatly at him. It wasn't an outright refusal but silence wasn't explicit agreement. Undeterred, Jaskier pressed on. "I want to see the might of Kaer Morhen so I can better write about you. Give me the source of my inspirations."

    "You'll be bored."

    "Not when you're around. And your family. I bet they have some great stories."

    "We're not some spectacle." If Jaskier hadn't known better, he would have accused Geralt of feeling annoyed. But his shoulders didn't come forward with the new weight of frustration so Jaskier would have been wrong.

    He wheedled and pestered until Geralt grunted. When he turned to head to Kaer Morhen for winter, he didn't chase Jaskier away.

    "We won't do anything different just because you are there," Geralt warned as they headed up the path. As odd as it sounded, Jaskier didn't expect them to be any different. He'd travelled with Geralt for years, knew what to expect. He wasn't going to be intimidated by Witchers and their perfect posture.

    The first sign of something not being right was when they arrived and a stooped old man leaning heavily on two canes greeted them.

    "Vesemir," Geralt said giving the man a squeeze to the shoulder. "Are the others back yet?"

    "Eskel's a day behind you, Lambert three."

    Merrily standing in front of Vesemir, Jaskier introduced himself. Maybe the old Witcher had suffered an injury while fighting and that was why he was so stooped. There had been a fair few fights Geralt had come out of that left Jaskier marvelling about his ability to heal.

    "I will wait for Eskel," Geralt declared which made no sense.

    Jaskier was given his own room and he made good use of it. Over the years he had come to terms with the fact Geralt couldn't feel, would never look at Jaskier with love, affection or anything of the like. It didn't stop him fantasising about running hands down a perfectly straight back, adoring the strong lines of it. Jaskier had enough love to give, he didn't need Geralt to return it.

    Just as Vesemir predicted, Eskel arrived the next day, just as perfect as Geralt despite the scars. He looked to Geralt, eyes flashing wider but Jaskier assumed it was a learnt motion to try and seem more human. The small shake of head from Geralt suggested that they were doing some kind of strange Witcher communication and Jaskier shrugged. He didn't need to understand everything.

    That night Jaskier was in his room, getting ready for bed when he heard voices from Geralt's room next door. The words were muffled and he had to press against the wall to hear better, curiosity winning out over respect of privacy.

    "I'll do you first, I had a shit year."

    Which was an interesting thing to hear, Jaskier didn't think Witchers had shit years, at least not in the traditional sense. Thinking about that, Jaskier almost missed Geralt's reply, "Since Jaskier I've had it better. Not that he knows."

    "Well, Wolf, he's about to find out the truth."

    There was a lit of rustling that Jaskier could barely hear before an audible gasp of pain was accompanied by a rattle of something being dropped.

    "Breathe through it."

    Cheeks heating, Jaskier didn't want to imagine what the two were doing. But if he was correct then he was going to have to give a very subtle talk about the many merits of lubricants and polite practices.

    "Your turn," Geralt rumbled, voice strained.

    Jaskier jumped away from the wall at the pained cry from Eskel and the sound of a body hitting the floor. Without thought he was rushing round, barely having the moment to grab the bottle of lube from the floor next to the bed. Brandishing it, he knocked and opened the door without thought.

    "Oh." He was frozen in the doorway, jaw lax with shock. Eskel was on the floor, spine horrifically curved while Geralt was hunched as he stood over him. They were both shirtless, two similar corset-like contraptions on the floor next to them.

    Familiar eyes stared at him and Jaskier knew that all the sadness and anger he had imagined over the years hadn't been made up after all. Geralt's back curved even more the longer Jaskier stared, forcing him to crane his neck to keep looking at him.

    "The fuck?" Jaskier managed to grit out, lube all but forgotten in his hand. "What's going on?"

    The short answer was that Witchers weren't as emotionless as everyone believed them to be. Instead, they had perfected the art of corsets that kept them straight for most of the year. In the winter, they could finally shed the contraptions and spent the months trying their best to uncurl enough that, come spring, they could cram themselves back into their corsets for another year on the Path.

    Two days later Lambert arrived. He took one look at Jaskier and snarled a vicious "no" even as Geralt and Vesemir greeted him. Eskel was still in bed, unable to get up just yet, his spine too twisted to walk even with the support of a frame or crutches.

    "It's okay," Vesemir tried to reassure but Lambert wasn't having any of it.

    He stepped back, shaking his head. "I will not humiliate myself in front of a human."

    "You can't spend all winter in your corset."

    No matter how much they argued, Lambert refused, staying far from the others to make sure nobody could surprise him and take the frame holding him upright from him.

    At least Jaskier didn't mind. He was far too busy trying to prove to Geralt that he didn't care for such a heavily curved spine. His lot in life was shit, the emotions he carried weighed a lot. Slowly, under his gentle care, Geralt's spine began to straighten. Jaskier was allowed in Eskel's room too, his songs and chatter helping him.

    Lambert lasted two weeks before he sought Geralt out, glaring and Jaskier. With Geralt dragged away, Jaskier spent the night alone. But the next morning Lambert was at the table, as twisted as the rest of his family, eyes haunted.

    Jaskier liked to think he helped the others with his presence. He kisser the twists of Geralt's spine, whispering soft sweetness in his ears, revelling in the way weight lifted off tired bones under his touch. Come spring, Jaskier bore witness to the agonising task of the Witchers wrestling themselves back into their corsets.

    "After Deidre I had to sew extra supports into Eskel's one," Geralt had whispered one night. "You can still see the scars from where the bones snapped as he dropped, piercing his stomach and lungs."

    Each Witcher needed the help of the three others to get into their garb. There were curses, yelps and lips bitten raw but once again there were three upright Witchers ready to head out on the Path. Emotionless, backs perfectly straight and faces void of anything other than blankness.

    Returning to the world, Jaskier didn't say anything. He still kissed Geralt when he could, standing on his tiptoes to reach familiar warm lips. They made their way up another mountain, hoping to beat the others to the dragon. It all went so horribly tits up, Jaskier didn't even know what had happened. One minute he was trying to entice Geralt to a break on the coast, a little time to themselves. The next Geralt was hurling rage filled words at him, crushing his hopes. Somehow the worst was when Geralt turned away. Something pressed harshly on Jaskier's back, his shoulders hunched and he staggered under the weight as his spine twisted. It hurt, he cried out but Geralt didn't turn around.

    Alone, twisted and in agony, Jaskier had no other option. He crawled down the mountain.

    #geraskier#geralt/jaskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier#eskel#lambert#vesemir#the witcher#bitter ending #tldr: feelings have literal weight
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  • suzukiblu
    17.06.2021 - 3 hours ago

    [ Image description: fanart of Jaskier and Geralt of Rivia from The Witcher in a His Dark Materials AU. Jaskier is arguing with a nightingale daemon perched on Geralt’s shoulder and they are being followed by a white wolf daemon. Geralt and the wolf look dubious. ]

    Geraskier daemons(/soulmates) for @primtheamazing, based on some people talk to animals; not many listen, though. In the event you have not read it: no, the nightingale is not Jaskier’s daemon, and the wolf is not Geralt’s.

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  • hallistarling
    17.06.2021 - 3 hours ago

    Teaser: The Red Prince, Chapter 4

    Full chapter to be posted next week!

    Get caught up on Ao3

    The bard really didn’t like storms. He kept rolling around and whimpering in his sleep, bumping into Geralt. Jostling him awake. It wasn’t like the man’s thrashing was a threat but it was annoying to get a knee or elbow in the back when Geralt was trying to help him.

    Maybe help was a strong word. He’d placed himself between Jaskier and the fire, knowing the idiot would thrash himself into burning alive if he tossed and turned too much. And since Geralt was bigger and stronger, it made sense. But it also put him in very close proximity with the human and that was trouble. He’d already shown his cards tonight, touching Jaskier in the middle of his panic.

    Geralt didn’t touch humans, not unless he paid for it. Not since Blaviken. It’d been a fucking decade and still that blood on his hands and splashed across his face haunted him. Self-defense meant nothing when his honed instincts took lives. Letho had once told him the Wolves had a problem with emotions and regret. He’d punched the snake in the gut and huffed off, wanting to get far away from the bastard. There was a reason no one liked Vipers.

    Geralt propped himself up on his elbow so he could look at Jaskier. The man had finally settled into some fitful form of sleep, curled on his side into a tight little ball. It shouldn’t have bothered him. Just like it shouldn’t have bothered him that the man claimed to have skills other than lute-strumming and being aggravating.

    He should cut him loose. Witchers didn’t have tagalongs.

    The problem was, Geralt didn’t want to cut him loose.

    Fuck, he was weak. He’d almost kissed Jaskier earlier, when the bard was wild-eyed and panicking over the storm. At one point Jaskier had flinched as Geralt stepped closer, like he was afraid. And that old wound reopened, the one that never fully closed up because of the way humans looked at him, ran from him. But he’d realized seconds later it wasn’t a flinch; the man was shaking with fear.

    #geraskier#witcher fanfiction #geralt x jaskier #the red prince #the red prince teaser #witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier
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  • dunroamins
    17.06.2021 - 4 hours ago

    Tweet from hourly jaskier (@hourlyjaskier)

    hourly jaskier (@hourlyjaskier) Tweeted:

    https://t.co/twFsxO4OBQ https://twitter.com/hourlyjaskier/status/1405586443775397891?s=20

    Look at him


    He's so beautiful *sobs*

    #joey batey #you beautiful man #hourly jaskier is out here doing God's work
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  • imaginesbyella
    17.06.2021 - 4 hours ago
    [x] // requester: anonymous // request: here
    PROMPTS: “You’re so beautiful.” + “I’ll hurt whoever did this to you.”

    The cold forest surrounded you, hiding you from the world and yourself. The shadows that once plagued your heart were pouring from your eyes in clear pearls of water and quiet sobs escaped your quivering lips.

    Your bleeding feet gave up on you and you tumbled down on the humid grass covering the forest, turning the unfamiliar wetness into a welcomed refugee where you burrowed your hands, needing to just feel something other than defeat.

    People could hurt you for years but if they murdered your friends and family, destroyed your home, wounded and disgraced your queen, you had revenge on your side. You would make their life hell, that at the end they would beg you to kill them instead of torturing them.

    However, the situation here didn’t quite roll so. Your nemesis, the assassin from the Black Moors, seemed to always defeat you in battle every single time you encountered him.  At the thought, your hot breath steamed against the foliage that surrounded you. 

    "Y/N?" a familiar voice spoke up from afar. Putting yourself together, you continued to patch your injuries - until he saw you in such a delicate state. "Oh, I see. I leave for an hour and your nemesis-”

    “Jaskier,” you grunted.

    Nevertheless, he continued,“- comes and decides to battle you. I can already picture it! Wavering swords and pulling punches to restore peace,” he said excitedly.

    “Jaskier,” you called on his name, gritted teeth and ragged breath.

    “Oooh, right!” Trying to help you with the bandage, he crouched down close to you. You felt a slight tugging at the leg, and it's tight enough. “I swear I’ll hurt whoever did this to you,” he sighed, putting her chin into his fist.

    Rolling your eyes, you avoided eye contact and let your head hang low. “If I were you, I wouldn’t even try.”

    “Have I ever told you, you’re so beautiful?” Attempting to lift your spirits, Jaskier’s voice rose and you slowly lifted your head, your face recognizable by all the smeared makeup and your red and puffed out eyes.

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  • geraski
    17.06.2021 - 4 hours ago

    I have another fic idea!

    Ok, so Geralt and Jaskier meet 5 years after the mountain. Jaskier is still a bard but he somehow changed. He still travels but all alone, by himself and he can stand up for oneself. He's like... Not this naive boy anymore.

    And Geralt is a bit in shock, because it's still Jaskier but he's different. And Geralt doesn't know which Jaskier he likes more: old or new.

    Let me explain. Geralt is a bit old. He's wise, has seen a lot if terrifying things, he lived a REALLY long life already. And then there's Jaskier: young, an ACTUAL F*CKING BARD, and the most handsome man in the universe (by my subjective vision). BUT new Jask is smart, a little bit pathetic, still handsome AND can fight.

    I can't decide

    #the witcher netflix #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #geralt of rivia #geraskier#fanfic#ao3#prompt #the witcher series #witcher#witcher 3#slash fic
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  • jennyloggins
    17.06.2021 - 4 hours ago

    [ao3 link!]

    the gorgeous art preview is the work of @jerry-of-rivia​! thank you again for working with me and for bringing my vision of sweet boy eskel to life 💛

    [link to the full art post placeholder]

    the full image appears in chapter three :~)

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  • theamazingbard
    17.06.2021 - 4 hours ago

    part 1 || part 2 ||

    ah shit. i couldn't just leave well enough alone :/ glad y'all like this au!


    The Parent's Night in late September has thus far brought no surprises for Geralt. Everything he thought he'd hear about Ciri, he has: She is a bright young student with a little too much attitude. As long as she keeps up the good work (and tones down her problem with authority), she'll do well.

    And of course she will. Geralt and Yennefer have worked hard to ensure Ciri has a good education. Though their relationship is still... strained, they don't let their differences get in the way of Ciri's life.

    It's why Yennefer was able to take Ciri for the night while Geralt spoke to her all her teachers.

    He's going to miss her tonight, but he's also glad for the break. September is always a busy month for him.

    A quiet night back home will do him some good.

    But then he overhears Jaskier's voice coming out of a classroom and he can't stop himself from eavesdropping. Geralt presses his back to the lockers and waits.

    "--A break? She's smart, you know she is."

    "I do," The teachers replies. "But this can't continue. She needs to do her homework, even this early on in the year. She needs to make friends."

    Jaskier sighs. "I'll talk to her."

    "I only want to see her succeed, Mr. Pankratz. I know you do, too."

    Pleasantries are exchanged, and then Jaskier is coming out of the classroom.

    He's wearing a suit. A black jacket with matching slacks. All of the color Geralt is used to seeing him in is now reduced to the tie he's wearing, and even that is just a simple pale pink. "You dressed up for Parent's night?" Geralt asks.

    Jaskier rolls his eyes. "If you like." Then he's walking away, a folder tucked under his arm.

    "The teachers can be assholes, sometimes," He says as he follows.

    "Good to know."

    Geralt flounders. He needs something else to say, to show Jaskier that his communication has gotten better in the last three years. "I'm sure Poppy is doing fine." Whoever the fuck Poppy is.

    Jaskier stops in his tracks and faces Geralt. "What are you doing? What is this?"

    Fuck if he knows. "I just. Hm." He runs a hand through his hair. (Jaskier used to like when he did that. Showed off his arms and showcased how silky his 'moonlight strands' are.) "I want to know how you're doing."

    "How I'm doing." Jaskier crosses his arms.

    "It's... been a while." Geralt says. "And if our... if we're going to see each other here..." A sigh. "Do you want to get coffee?"


    Jaskier used to complain when Geralt would 'echo' what Jaskier was saying. He only understands now how annoying it is. "Catch up. Talk. Doesn't have to be anything more than coffee."

    For a long moment, Jaskier drums his (unpainted) nails against his arm. His lips pursed and his eyes narrowed. "I'm free on Saturday. Noon. You get an hour." Then he adds, "Do not make me regret getting coffee with you."

    Geralt nods. The strict rules are more than fair. He understands how hard is can be to have free time as a parent-- if that is what Jaskier is now. He wants to ask, but that will have to wait for Saturday. If it comes up at all. "Saturday. Do you... still have the same number?"

    Something like amusement creeps into Jaskier's features, though it looks like he's fighting it. "You kept my number?" He regards Geralt, eyes sweeping up and down. The scrutiny leaves him feeling hot. "Well... if you did keep it, then yes it's the same. Unless you need me to write it down?"

    "I have it."

    "Okay then. Remember what I said." He jabs a finger in Geralt's direction, then disappears down the hall, probably off to talk to another teacher.

    What the fuck is Geralt doing?

    Jaskier has moved on and Geralt shouldn't be having 'just coffee' if it's igniting this spark of... of something. Playing it by ear is dangerous, particularly when there are children in both their lives. He's going to have to be careful.

    Friends. He can be friends with Jaskier, if Jaskier allows. Geralt misses Jaskier as a person, with all his noise and colors and brash attitude. In any capacity, it is worth having Jaskier in his life.

    Whatever the fuck that means.


    tagged: @messy-sunbeam @stinastar @ineffable-monster-romancer


    toss a coin to a broke bitch?

    #geraskier#geralt#jaskier#the witcher#by: theamazingbard #i am writing this for fun and so i put no effort into this (i mean i did but i'm trying not to worry about it idk if that makes sense) #hopefully there is still intrigue #saw some interesting theories #one came kinda close #i guess i need a title?? who knows #not edited wheeeeee
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