Dapandapod

/She,her/ 30’s / #dapanda writes / prompts open /For all them fandoms//TinyThoughts on Ao3/ sometimes reblog +18 things/ header by Firefly-party

[dapandapod]

My original masterlist went poof and took a vacation to outer space so here is a new one! I am TinyThoughts on Ao3, and you can find my writings on tumbler under #dapanda writes! 

I mainly write witcher fics, but from time to time I have to sneak in other fandoms…

Prompts are open! 

- Ciri Science and The Idiot Syndrome - the collection

- Hand holding prompts 2020 masterlist (ongoing)

-I love you-collection (ongoing)

- Witcher ficlet masterlist 2023

- Witcher ficlet masterlist 2022

- Witcher Ficlet masterlist 2021

- Witcher ficlet masterlist 2020

- Hug prompts 2021 masterlist (finished)

-Passiflora drabble challenge 1  and    challenge 2

- +18 witcher fics

-Writing horses - a little guide

- Pass it on (writing game, lets write together)

Panda Art

Harry Potter - Drarry master list

Original Of bark and bloom - A little autumn fairytale

Multi chapter witcher fics:

-Dead I live 36/36  (rating E for gore) Ao3 Jaskier is killed and resurected by a necromancer. Geralt doesn’t know.

-Leave behind your heart 5/5 Hanahaki disease, but how can that be? Jaskier is not in love?  Ao3 -

Hollow 4/4 part 1 part 2   part 3  part 4

Prompt, Jakier jumps in front of a curse and forgets Geralt

-I can explain Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Bonus   +1 A series of events where Jaskier can explain, and one where he realy can’t

- Walk this earth with me 3/? complete netflix canon rewrite where Jaskier is cursed and un ageing.

-Just Geralt licking things 9/9 Tumblr master post As it sounds, Geralt licks everything he gets his hands on. Suggestions open!

[gatesofminrathous]

there will never be anything as funny as the mutual disbelief between long form and short form fic writers about each other's style.

short form writers look at people writing 100k+ fics as though this is some sort of talent given as part of a fae bargain, that the commitment required shows some sort of ungodly mental fortitude.

meanwhile long form writers look at people writing 1000 word one shots like god I would cut off my left nipple to be able to say anything concisely. i would love to play with multiple ideas. free me from the shackles of this child I have birthed. i love them but I now must take them to t-ball and doctor's appointments and they're going to destroy everything I own.

[ao3commentoftheday]

[rinamata05]

Happy Pride

[dapandapod]

Ooo. How about "Burying your head in someone’s neck" with Geraskier for the hug prompts? Please?

12. Burying your head in someone’s neck

Uhm yes please. I could write 32 more of these, damn i love this prompt. Here be some silly sweetness coming right up!

Send me a hug prompt

On Ao3 Hug collection here

Traveling across the land has always been Jaskier’s favorite pastime. He goes where his feet take him, far and wide across the continent. He visits hamlets, cities, bogs and mountains. He watches the sea churn, the sky be painted, and the shadows pass in a forest.

And he watches the clear blue sky turn dark with clouds, and big fat drops of rain pelt him and the witcher.

They hurry to take cover as best they can, meaning they trod on along the road until Geralt steers them towards a small shepherd's hut. By then they are both dripping wet, Jaskier’s hair drooping sadly, droplets hanging off his nose and his ears, and Geralt is not better off.

Geralt drops Roach’s gear just inside the door, and then he shakes himself as if he were a great big dog.

“Ugh, Geralt!” Jaskier complains, being just within the splash zone. “You are not supposed to dry off on me!”

“Oh yeah?” Geralt asks, eyes glinting in a way that does not bode well (but stirs something rather nice and warm and fluttery in his chest).

Then the witcher launches himself at Jaskier, gripping his shoulders and rubbing his wet hair over as much of Jaskier as he can manage.

The Jaskier in question shrieks as cold, wet hair is being pressed against his skin, and he shoves at Geralt to get away from him.

“You! Absolute brute you! Ugh! Eeek! Stop! Stop it, you big oaf!”

“You did this to yourself,” Geralt says, changing his grip to make Jaskier stand still. But Jaskier is a slippery bastard, and it takes shoving Jaskier against a wall to finally trap him and keep him in place.

They might be a little out of breath after their tousle, just a little bit. Jaskier has to accept his fate as a human towel, seeing as he has nowhere left to run. Geralt’s hands are on his shoulder and hip, his forehead pressed against the side of his neck.

“You are terrible,” Jaskier mutters. “I’m all cold now.”

That is a lie.

Jaskier is getting warmer by the second, Geralt’s body against his doing wonders for his temperature. Again, Geralt changes his grip, and yup. Warm and toasty now.

“Better?” Geralt murmurs, angling his head so that he can nose at the collar of Jaskier’s tunic, his cheek pressed against the side of Jaskier’s face. His arms are wrapped around his back, and Jaskier can’t help but sigh and lean into it.

“Yes. Thank you.”

His own arms come up to rest over Geralt’s shoulders, and for a long moment they just stand there. That stirring inside his chest is getting louder, the flutters evolving into a stormwind, wrecking him with a mere touch of lips to the side of his neck.

They stand there for a long while, not talking.

Jaskier has visited many places during his travels.

But one of his favorites will forever be this little shepherd's hut, where all it took to finally bring his witcher close was a little rain.

[dapandapod]

Hug 16, cheek to cheek. But I’m asking, specifically, for hurt/comfort with Geraskier. :crypuddle:

16. Cheek to cheek

Yes, Kuri my beloved, of course you can! I swear the hug is in there somewhere, promise, I just hid it well... PLease enjoy this slightly angsty hurt/comfort hug! <3

Oh and thank you @comfyswitcherblanketfort for beta reading <3<3<3 I love you

Warnings: Jaskier gets hurt, alchemist has a bad, bad day, temporary-ish loss of hearing, hurt/comfort, light angst I guess?

On Ao3 Hug prompt collection

“JASKIER NO!!”

The sound of the explosion makes Geralt’s ears ring, his world bright white. Wind is pulling at his hair, and he has to shield his eyes against the dust and small stones caught in the blast of the explosion.

As soon as it settles, as soon as he can open his eyes again, he looks frantically for the form of the bard. Fuck, he had thought it would be fine. That it would be a simple meet and greet, that the alchemist would just… try to swindle them as per usual.

He blinks against the white dots dancing in his vision, his sight clearing up. His ears are still ringing slightly, but he can hear his own heart hammer, his blood whooshing.

The alchemist had grabbed Jaskier, had put a knife to his throat and held up a small glass bottle. ‘For my brother!’ he had yelled, yelling out details Geralt knew nothing about. Probably another witcher, probably someone else, but for some, it didn’t matter.

He had instructed Geralt to take the bottle, and to throw it at his own feet, or the bard would die.

Geralt saw the look in Jaskier’s eyes. Could do nothing when he saw his sad smile and his determination. How he bit the hand that held him, and how the bottle fell and how Jaskier stomped on it.

Two bodies lay sprawled on the ground, and Geralt ran towards them, his balance working against him. The last few steps he stumbles, his knees hitting the gravel and glass hard, but he doesn’t care. Geralt ignores the alchemist completely, focusing on Jaskier, pale and unmoving.

He has no idea what the explosion was supposed to do, but he suspects something didn’t go as it was supposed to. Jaskier’s clothes are torn, some of the glass sticking out of the sole of his boot, mixed with blood. A faint glittering powder still hangs in the air, and they can’t stay.

After a quick examination, Geralt dares pick Jaskier up, his head hanging limply against Geralt’s shoulder. Terror, heavy and sickening, churns in his gut. His ears are ringing too much for him to pick up a breath, a heartbeat, but he refuses to believe anything but Jaskier being alive. On his chest, his medallion hums and then starts to vibrate furiously.

Geralt changes his grip and cradles Jaskier’s head towards himself, and starts to run.

A second explosion sets off, somehow louder despite the distance he managed to put between them. He is thrown forward, catching himself on his already bruised and bleeding knee, refusing to let go of Jaskier. This time, he can smell the fire, the ozone, the chaos let loose.

Thank fuck he got Jaskier out of there.

As soon as the medallion calms down, Geralt moves again. His knees hurt and his back feels slightly too hot, but he needs to get away from here.There is no telling if there is going to be a third explosion, and he will not be around to find out.

When he deems them far away enough, Geralt carefully puts Jaskier down. The terror is still laying heavily in his gut, making his fingers feel stiff and his throat constrict with worry. Jaskier hasn't moved yet, not even a twitch of his eyes.

Geralt leans in close, pressing his ear to the torn clothing of Jaskier’s chest. Despite the now soft ringing in his ears, he picks up a faint heartbeat. When he leans up to Jaskier’s face, he can feel his breath against his cheek.

Jaskier lives.

Something unclenches in his stomach, making it easier to breathe. Now he only needs to wake up…

But he tight coil of anxiety in his stomach doesn’t ease up, so Geralt busies himself. The fine clothes are more or less ruined anyway, so he cuts them off where he needs to. The pieces of fabric that are

salvageable he puts to the side for safe keeping. No need to throw it all away.

The boots are a bit trickier, with the glass sticking out of it, but Geralt is used to this. Jaskier stirs for the first time as he removes them and cleans the wounds out. His nose scrunches up and he makes a grunting sound. It shouldn’t give him such relief, to see Jaskier in pain, but it lets him believe that things should be alright...

When Jaskier is all bandaged up and put in one of Geralt’s bigger tunics, Geralt finally lets himself care for himself.

His right knee also has glass splinters, his trousers slightly torn where it scraped over the ground. It will have to be mended, but otherwise he is unfairly alright. Except for the ringing in his ears.

It takes another two hours for Jaskier to wake up. Darkness has crept up on them, and Geralt made a small campfire to keep the bard warm. He is not sure where Roach went with their camping gear, but she will be back eventually. She always is.

Jaskier pulls in a deep breath, his heartbeat picking up, and then he groans softly. Instantly Geralt is at his side, taking his hand in his.

“Jaskier?” He mumbles, letting his other hand cup Jaskier’s cheek. Jaskier startles when he touches him, he tries to sit up, almost headbutting Geralt in the process.

“It’s fine! It’s just me, it’s alright.” Geralt tries to push Jaskier back down again, but the bard looks around terrified.

“Geralt?” He asks, a little too loud.

“I’m here.”

Their eyes meet, and Jaskier’s eyes get even wider.

“Geralt?”

“I’m here. You are safe.”

It doesn’t help.

Jaskier looks terrified, shoving Geralt’s hands away and touching his ears.

Oh.

Oh no.

Of course, Jaskier was much closer to the explosion than Geralt was. Of course his ears and his more humanlike healing would not be better yet.

“I can’t hear you.” Jaskier says, again too loud, on the verge of tears. “I can’t hear anything.”

Geralt can only watch when Jaskier curls in on himself, fingers to his ears, looking terrified.

“The alchemist…” Jaskier whispers, eyes returning to Geralt. “I don’t…”

Geralt opens his arms in invitation and Jaskier crawls desperately into his embrace. Cheek to cheek, they sit pressed together, Jaskier’s fingers shaking where it grips at Geralt a little too tightly.

“You will heal.” Geralt says. “I will keep you safe.”

When Geralt talks, Jaskier seems to relax just a little. Maybe he can’t hear the words, maybe not even his voice, but he should be able to feel the vibration of Geralt’s throat. They adjust, Jaskier pressing his forehead to the side of Geralt’s neck, his nose cold and breath hot.

Geralt keeps talking, and slowly Jaskier keeps relaxing.

Eventually they resort to Jaskier’s notebook. Jaskier flips several pages quickly, hiding its secrets from Geralt, until he finds a blank page.

And from the light of the fire, Geralt scribbles it again. It is a bit hard, with Jaskier between his arms, but none of them wants to let go now.

“You will heal. I will keep you safe.”

And when morning comes, Jaskier seems to believe him. His hearing returns slowly, so slowly. No songs are being sung, no notes played, for a long time.

Some nights are worse than others, the ringing in Jaskier’s ears so loud he can’t sleep.

Geralt finds himself talking more, because it makes Jaskier smile and reach for his hand, even on days when Jaskier can’t make out what he is saying. They have found other ways to communicate.

They will heal together. Keep each other safe.

[sleepingreader]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/85657391/chapters/226337671

Platonic Bloodymary with a healthy dash of found families and humor, anyone?

[transxfiles]

me: *writes fic*

me: great! time to post to ao3-

ao3 summary box: *exists*

me: 

ao3 summary box:

me:

ao3 summary box: 

me:

[rooksandravens]

[rjeddystone]

Ooh, this is actually kinda a neat thing, because you can think of it as a checklist:

Who: Main character(s)

Why: Character goal or desire (stated)

Why: Character need (implied)

When: Inciting Incident

What: Means (that achieves the goal/need)

Where: Place A >> Place B

How: The Plan

Obstacle(s): antagonist or challenge

For example:

Who: Bilbo Baggins, a respectable hobbit of Hobbiton

Why: Treasure, wealth (stated)

Why: Adventure, self-respect (implied)

When: After supper

What: Quest

Where: Hobbiton >> The Lonely Mountain

How: A company of dwarves, a wizard, and an ancient map and key

Main antagonist(s): a dragon

Thus, in less than 100 words:

Bilbo Baggins is a respectable hobbit in Hobbiton, never making any trouble or having any adventures. But when a wizard and a company of dwarves invite themselves to dinner, Bilbo finds himself joining their quest from the shires of Hobbiton to the legendary Lonely Mountain, the home of a long lost treasure, and quite, possibly, a dragon.  

~~~~

The Anatomy of Story by John Truby is a really good book by the by, if anyone’s interested in this sort of thing.

[roguecompanion1812]

This is super helpful!’

[megacarapa]

ok so this is another long shot but a few years ago there was a twitter post (in japanese i think?) that had measurememts for how to make this book stand thing out of cardboard that you could use to double up books and use up more space on shelves

back then i made a bunch of these but by now i lost the pic and dont know how to find the original post anymore

if it comes down to it i can just take one apart and get the measurements from there but i would be very grateful if anyone happens to have the original post or something similar??

[megacarapa]

don't mind how long it's been since i made this post, anyway i realized that i don't even need to take one apart to get the measurements when i can literally just unfold it and refold it /FACEPALM

so anyway here is the diagram for anyone else who is interested!!

this requires pretty big carboard pieces, if you have a really big box or something you can make it from one piece, but if you don't, you can also just make each of the pieces individually and then tape them together

and then in the end you put it together like this!!

and then when you make a bunch you can put them all next to each other and stack your books like crazy

EVERYONE START GETTING MORE USE OUT OF YOUR SPACE NOW!!!!

[dovesick]

various types of pigeons

[redavexat]

A collection, for a well loved garf

A bonus picture for anyone who wants it

[7thrsd]

3/7

an empirical experiment vs drunken happy hour 🍻

[dapandapod]

Hi, I have a Geraskier prompt for you. Jaskier jumps in front of a spell aimed at Geralt. Geralt yells at Jaskier. They have no clue what the spell did until they get to town and Jaskier loses his memory of Geralt (the spell erases the thing he loves most). As Jaskier has been gravely injured before, Geralt decides to let him go. Jaskier goes back to Oxenfurt but something keeps nagging at him. Geralt keeps an eye on him from afar until Jaskier gets in trouble and Geralt saves him

Hi my lovely anon! I love this and it might have turned into a bigger thing than I expected! Thank you so much for your prompt and I would love to hear from you again!

There will be a part two written soon! Because this is just the beginning!

It’s on Ao3! 

Edit: part two! Part three! Part four!

                                    ~~~~~~~***~~~~~~~

                                        Hollow - Part 1

There is a vibration in the air. A pulsing energy coming from the woman in front of them. Chaos gathering and redying to unleash itself upon them. She is anger and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness. The hairs on Geralt's arms rise, her magic so palpable he can almost touch it. She is very strong, but untrained. She can bring the chaos to her, she can shape it and give it intent, and she can most likely kill this entire village. Geralt flexes his grip on the sword. He has to time this exactly right. He raises his other hand, ready to sign Aard if need be.

~

In the end he doesn’t time it right. The world screeches to a halt, everything is white, red, blurry, and then Jaskier is falling to his knees in front of Geralt. “No.” Geralt breathes. “No no no, Jaskier! I told you to stay back!” The woman in front of them laughs an empty laugh. “I am sorry, witcher. I meant it for them, for you, but maybe this is better.” Her smile is without malice, without life, without colour.She puts her face to the darkening sky, admiring the first eager starsp peeking out on the night sky. Her skin turns grey, and slowly she is ash in the wind.

“Let it hurt you like it hurt me.” Her shadow whispers and she is gone.

Geralt drops his sword and throws himself over Jaskiers still form. Panic crashes through his body, wave after wave hitting him. Jaskier, the fool, stepped in front of him. Protected him. Jaskier wasn’t supposed to be here. He was supposed to stay with the other villagers, he was supposed to be safe.

His mouth tastes like iron, bile, smoke, it is so dry he can barely talk nor pray to anything, anyone who might hear him. “Jaskier, I am so sorry, please please, Jaskier…” A month. It was a month since the last time Jaskier was in danger because of him. Became hurt because of him. Slowly he turns Jaskier over so Geralt can see his face. There is no visible damage, and it makes Geralt's heart plummet. Physical hurts he can deal with, treat, clean, bandage. Magical hurts however are infinitely more complicated. Jaskier makes a small groan, eyes fluttering, when Geralt propps him up in his arms. Behind them he can hear the village open their doors, looking out at what is happening. “Is she gone?” Someone calls out to them. Geralt can’t answer. Jaskier is so pale, sweat appearing by his hairline. “Healer!” Geralt finally shouts over his shoulder. “Bring me your healer!”

There are rushing steps and then someone sits down by his side. A woman with a long braid and an apron puts her hand to Jaskiers face, to his body. She takes his pulse, smells his breath, looking at his pupils. Poking, prodding, pulling at clothes hunting for wounds or bruises. The bard's pale skin is unhurt, except the still healing scar on the side of his stomach. The healer gives Geralt a sideyed look, stern, and keeps examining him. Geralt knows. He blames himself for that one too.

“He will live.” She announces after a surprisingly short time, sitting back. “There is nothing physically wrong with him. The rest we will know when he wakes up.” The healer gets up, pats Geralt on the shoulder and moves back to the village. Nobody else dared come to them, but he can sense their eyes on his back. No matter. Geralt must take Jaskier to the inn, to their room, to safety, away from prying eyes. Carefully, with as much gentleness as he can muster, he picks up his bard and carries him close to his chest. Every breath expanding Jaskiers chest against his own is a small blessing.

~

There is no sleep. No meditation. There is only watching over his friend, his companion, his one truth for all these years. He put Jaskier in one of the beds. The bard has yet to wake up, so he tucks the blanket around his limp body. Then Geralt waits. Head in his hands, ears straining to hear every heartbeat, the armor still on his body, Geralt sits by Jaskiers bedside on a very rickety footstool. At some point he has to stretch, and he sit down on his own bed instead.

He hates contracts like this. He knew something wasn’t right, knew it the moment he stepped into her hut. She mourned, her eyes rimmed with red. The villagers wanted her dead, had claimed her a beast when a man died. Geralt don’t kill people. When they talked to her, Jaskiers words a balm on her hurt, they learned how they mistreated her. Abused her. Everybody but the man who died. “He was the one thing I loved, and they took it from me.”

It became clear she was after vengeance. Geralt doesn’t kill people, but he can't let her harm them. He can’t let her become him. He would stand between them, protect them from each other.

And Jaskier took the hit for it. Caring, loving, forgiving Jaskier, who never knows when to do what he has been told.

~

Sometime during the night he must have slumbered. That, or he didn’t notice the time passing. The stars hide behind the clouds, the sun slowly crawling out and tainting the sky with harsh reds and yellows.

The first rays of the morning sun find its way through the window. Jaskier stirs and Geralt's heart almost stops. When he looks up he sees the bard stretch his arms above his head, blinking his eyes open.

“Oh.” Jaskier says. “uhm...Good morning. Where am I?” Geralt exhales, a breath he has been holding since the moment Jaskier crumpled to the ground. “At the inn. You got hurt last night because of me. Again.” Geralt says, bitterness heavy in his voice. Jaskiers face is carefully blank as he studies the witcher. “Oh.” Is all he says again. It feels… wrong. Something is off. By now Jaskier would have told Geralt three times over what an idiot he is and how he should stop worrying. But he says nothing.

The silence is heavy and Geralt is very much not sure on what to do. Finally, he gets to his feet. When he does, Jaskier pulls his blanket up a little higher. There is an odd smell in the room now, one he can’t exactly place. Geralt frowns, and finally walks over to the door. “I’ll go fetch the healer.” he says, feeling awkward. Has the time finally come for Jaskier to blame him? Jaskier just nods. When no other reactions, words come from his friend, Geralt walks out. Hopefully the healer will know what is wrong.

~

“He doesn’t know you.” The healer says when she exits the room. Geralt had per request waited outside when she looked over Jaskier. It stung, but he accepted it. But this… “What does that mean?” Geralt asks, frown deepening. He still hasn't gotten out of his armor. He stands there looming over her but feeling like the smallest person in the world. “It means he has no memory of you, doesn’t know who you are or why he is here.” She says, voice cold. “I… but… is he hurt?” He asks her, but the healer shakes her head. “No. The magic must have altered his memories, I'm not sure to what extent, but he is otherwise fine.” They stand in silence for a while. Geralt pondering what to do, how to help, she just studying him.

“Witcher, I am going to be frank with you.” She says finally. “I think you should let him go. He is not safe with you.” “That is not your decision to make.” “No, it’s not. But you know it’s true. People never survive around your kind for long.” She says it with such disdain, such cold eyes. “We will leave when he is ready.” He says, trying to control himself, his anger. He walks past her and into their room. How does she fucking dare.

He close the door behind him, seething. Jaskier stands with his back to the door, pants loose on his hips, putting his shirt back on. Geralt just stands there, watching him. Jaskier notices him and suddenly that smell is back. Oh.

Geralt didn’t understand what it was, because it was never a smell he ever associated with Jaskier. Fear. It breaks Geralt's heart a thousand times over. Jaskier truly does not remember him. “Sorry.” He mumbles. “How are you feeling?” Geralt doesn't know where to look, because this is his fault. All of it.

Jaskier looks at him, face blank but eyes wary. With slow movements he stuffs his shirt in his pants. “Im fine.” Geralt moves over to his bed, sits down on the covers. “You really don’t remember me?” Geralt asks, and he knows, he knows, but he can’t help but torture himself. Jaskier cocks his head. “I really don’t, I'm afraid. Do we know each other?” Jaskier gives him a careful smile.

There is a whirlwind in Geralt's head. The years they spent together. Summer nights in front of the fire, Jaskier gently playing his lute and Geralt caring for his swords. Quiet mornings before a hunt, Jaskier fussing over his armor. Roach shoving at Jaskier when she can smell the treats he always keeps for her in his pockets. Yennefer and Jaskier bickering over their wine, Jaskiers constant river of words, the way he always, always steps in front of Geralt when all Geralt wants is to keep him safe. How can he keep Jaskier safe? How can Jaskier be safe by his side?

He is silent for too long. Jaskiers smile falters, crumbles. Geralt did that too. He pulls in a breath, holds it in his lungs, but the heavy feeling won't go away. “Witcher?” He doesn’t even remember his fucking name. He exhales. “We have been traveling together for a while.” Geralt says, closing his eyes, the heavy feeling won’t leave his chest, there is a pounding happening in his temples, his fingers want to clench onto something. “I was taking you to Oxenfurt.” It is not a lie. He would never, will never, lie to his bard. His bard. They have been talking about going there sometime. Why not now? A small line appears between Jaskiers eyebrows, Geralt imagines he is looking for a memory, a confirmation. “Im sorry, it is very frustrating not to remember. What is your name? Have we been traveling for long?” “No.” Geralt says. Liar, liar, liar, liar. “I am Geralt of Rivia. If you are uncomfortable with me here… I can… I don’t have to…If you still want to go there, that is.” His words are failing him and Jaskier gives him a gentle smile. The smell of fear is slowly dispatching and Jaskiers normal scent returns. “Im Julian.” He says.

Let it hurt you like it hurt me.

~

They set out together later that day. They don’t talk about what happened the day before. They barely talk at all. It is only two weeks of travel to get to Oxenfurt, and Geralt is not sure if it is a blessing or a curse. He has two weeks to either get Jaskier back, or let him go. He feels so utterly selfish, keeping this choice from Jaskier, to not let him be the one to choose. But he is simply not brave enough.

The first night under the open sky is oddly enough very much like normal. Without a word they split the tasks of making a fire, putting out bedrolls and preparing food the same way they always do.

When Jaskier fetches their bedrolls, Roach buffs his arm, begging for a treat. Geralt watches them from where he is digging out a hole for their fire. Jaskier smiles at her, petting her head gently, talking to her in soft tones. She buffs him again and tries to get into his pockets. “Im sorry girl, look, I have nothi-....” Geralt hears him trail off when he puts his hand in his pocket, only to find a sugarcube. His confusion is evident, his smile gone, but he holds it out for her.

When they are sitting by the fire, passing a cheese and some bread between them, Geralt watches Jaskier. He doesn't know what to do, what to say. “Why can I remember Roach but not you?” Jaskier suddenly asks, eyes fixed on the flames. The light flickers and paints his features in red and orange and sharp shadows. Geralt cuts off a piece of cheese and puts the rest down on the cloth between them. “What did the healer tell you?” “That I was hit with magic that altered something in my mind. She wasn’t sure of what exactly, but she wasn’t very worried about it.” Of course she wasn’t. “I don’t remember what happened that night at all.” It would finally seem like the floodgates opened. Somehow it soothes Geralt to hear him, even if the words uttered makes it worse. Geralt is quiet, chewing on his cheese slowly. “I fought a woman with untamed chaos. She lost her love and wanted revenge. You stepped in front of me when she unleashed her magic.” Jaskier nods, and sinks into his thoughts again. They barely talk for the rest of the evening. Jaskier asks no questions and Geralt is too conflicted about it all to make smalltalk. They go to bed, and when Jaskiers breath evens out and the small familiar snores fill the air together with the crackles from the dying fire, Geralt allows himself to fall. The worry, the relief, the numbing panic, the fear of loss, but he already lost him didn’t he? At least he is not dead.

~

It is weird to make smalltalk with someone he has known for years. To listen to him talk about his parents, anecdotes from his studies. He even tells him about a bar fight that he started. He tells it as if Geralt wasn’t there, right next to him, hauling his ass out of there when it got too heated. What is worse is that Geralt learns new things about his friend, about his past. And Jaskier keeps referring to himself as Julian. Every now and then there is a whiff of fear from Jaskier. Geralt tries to keep the sadness from his face. The Jaskier without Geralt will have a safe life where he won’t ever need to feel fear.

Jaskier hasn't touched his lute since they left.

~

“I um… thank you witcher.” Jaskier says awkwardly. They are outside the gates of his university. “Do I pay you now or uhm…?” “No. It’s fine.” “Will you stay here for a while? Or out on the Path again?” “Roach needs to rest, so I’ll stay for the night.” “Roach?” “....My horse….” “Right. Right. Sorry.” Jaskier is frowning again. He does that a lot now. “You know, we could take a drink together? As a thank you?” This is goodbye. Geralt can see it. “If you want to.”

~

They sit across each other in the tavern. The lighting is dim and it smells like dust and stale ale. The table probably hasn't been wiped in the last ten years, and when Geralt lifts his tankard there is a sticky sound as the table doesn’t want to let go.

It has always been hard to find words. They are tricky, deceptive, easy to misimprent. Tonight is no exception. They stick to his throat, cling to the roof of his mouth, refusing to get out. Geralt has never felt dread like this.

“Why do you look so sad, master witcher?” Jaskier asks, cocking his head. A drunk, angry man comes up to their table before Geralt can compose an answer. His cheeks are blotchy red, eyes watery and he reeks of alcohol and unwashed body. “The white fucking wolf, the freak of fucking nature.” He growls. “Butcher of fucking Blaviken.” Jaskiers eyes widen a fraction, something like recognition flickers across his face. That probably rang some kind of bell. It was so long ago. Why should it matter to anybody but him anymore? Geralt sighs, deciding that ignoring the man is the best option. “Heey! I'm talking to you, asshole!” the man slurs. “Leave off.” Jaskier says, a hint of anger coloring his voice. “Ain’t fucking talking to you, bard.” The drunkard says, waving around making his drink slosh down over his arm and onto their table. Jaskier looks confused for a moment, like there is something just out of his minds reach. “You mutant bastard, you are as much a monster as what you fucking slay” the drunkard slurs on. It has been a long time since last he was talked to like this. Much thanks to Jaskiers impressive work.

A woman with hair the colour of straw comes up to the drunkard, grabbing his elbow. “Are you nuts?” She hiss at him. “Don’t insult a witcher! Do you want to die?!” and she drags him away. Jaskier looks after them as they walk away. “Are you always treated like this?” he frowns. Geralt is really starting to hate that look on him. “Not as much anymore.” They sit in silence. “Every time I look at you, witcher, I have this nagging feeling. Like there is something I'm missing.” Every fiber of Geralt being wants to tell him. Wants to break that fucking spell, get his friend back. But he can’t. The healer is right. Jaskier has a big scar and a lost memory as proof. He will not survive a witchers company much longer. “Either way, master witcher, thank you for bringing me safely back here. I hope our roads will cross again.”

~

Geralt walks hurriedly away among the trees. It takes everything he has not to just take off running. His muscles are stiff from holding back, there is a churning inside his ribs, his eyes are burning. When he finally is far enough not to see or hear or smell Oxenfurt anymore, he sinks to his knees, lets go. He can fetch Roach in the morning.

He is anger and hurt and shuddering breaths and thunder and sadness.

He lets it all out in the darkness where no one can see.

[hiveswap]

big fan of when you peel back all layers of a character and at the bottom of it there's love

[hiveswap]

why are they doing this? because they loved someone so much it caused the plot to happen. Grief counts btw

[hiveswap]

ESPECIALLY a big fan of when this isn't enough to make them a good person

[littlestpersimmon]

cave angel fish

[dapandapod]

I want to write something mermay.

Send me a pairing and a word and I will make you some words? ❤️

[dapandapod]

It has begun!

Singing under water Geraskier, Geralt learning Jaskier is Mer

Glittering Geralt &/x eskel, watching the stars

Depth Geraskier pre-slash, prince/mer!Jaskier

Lost Geraskier, mer!Geralt and Jaskier in Skellige

What’s next?

[dapandapod]

You know what? Let’s go again! Witcher, Star Wars, stranger things and Arcane welcome 🤣

I have five days, let’s gooo! 🧜‍♀️🧜‍♂️

[bleekay]

had a fucked up dream i had a book that turned out could never be read again the same as the first time because each reread the characters became incrementally more aware that the events of the book had happened before and they were “reliving” it and i reread enough times that they became self aware, figured out they were in a book, acknowledged me as the reader, and some lost their minds or had existential crises, became violent to other characters or themselves, some begged me to never stop reading or they ceased to exist and others begged me to end it all stop reading and keeping them trapped in the endless loop of torment, and the literal only way to get the book back to its first run was to hand it off to someone else to read for the first time and for some reason i physically couldn’t tell anyone about it so i’d have to just hope whoever i gave it to would only read it once and i could never open the book again to check if they were okay and back to normal because i was terrified of fucking them all up again :(

[bleekay]

i'm glad people are finding this fun as a concept and making references to stuff that this reminds them of but i really gotta express how bad of a nightmare this was for me. i had fallen in love with the original story and characters (though on waking i couldn't tell you the details), unintentionally warped their story beyond recognition, and found myself an unwitting god that could not provide mercy for some without doling torment to others. one of the characters started offing themselves every time i started another reread. stress dream doesn't even begin to cover it

[olliren-blog]

[akiglancy-deactivated20200123]

gayest sport on earth

[iridescentsenpai]

somebody’s obviously never heard of turkish oil wrestling

[iseewhatyoudidier-deactivated20]

WHAT

[hayleyzorel]

OH MY GOD I AM CRYING

[casey-jane-lewis]

you have not LIVED until you’ve seen live Turkish oil wrestling.

[boredbaristasblog]

why is he putting his hand in his pants

[gardengnosticator-deactivated20]

That’s how you win. By securing a grip on the “kisbet” (the special type of pants the wrestlers wear) and then pinning the opponent is how victory is achieved. The loser will then kiss the victor’s hand as a sign of respect and admiration. 

[mystraknits-deactivated20160402]

that sport was so made up as an explanation for two guys getting caught going at it

[fruityrudys]

guys they oil each other up  im crying here 

[onecrazycanuck]

This post literally gets gayer each time it appears on my dash. What the fuck?!?! This is like the most elaborate act that ever required a constant “no homo” to be chimed.

[gekaidaimonmichiko]

Some guy, having stumbled upon 2 of his close friends locked in a heated embrace, covered in oil, with their hands in each other’s pants: Bro, what the fuck are you guys doing?!

Gay dude about to make up Turkish oil wrestling: Oh, haven’t you heard?

[fuckyahumor]

lmaooooooooo

[klutzyfox-archive-deactivated20]

What if a Gay dude joins turkish oil wrestling because his crush is in it?

I know what you are thinking,You dirty minded people

[worldheritagepostorganization]

World Heritage Post