#persony-pepper

[pookyscreations]

Birthday Gift for a friend from …2021 LOL

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[in-love-with-writing002]

oh hey here's some venom thoughts: venom figured out how to type he's a quick learner, he's got a million and a half tentacles. One day, Eddie's just feeling like shit, like migraine or something but you know writing, he's got a deadline and Venom's like, fuck it, I have access to your brain, just think abt what u want me to write and I'll do it come on we need money for chocolate but also keep the heat pack over you eyes, darling-love.

Ohhhh this is so cute!! Eddie get some rest :))

—

“Fuck,” Eddie cursed, sitting up too quickly in bed. The world lurched around him, and that was before he began processing the sensory input. The birds outside sounded like they were screaming, the sunlight felt like daggers in his eyes, his muscles felt like soup, and Venom was typing something on his laptop.

Our muscles are not soup.

“Shit, can you turn your voice down? Or something? God, it’s rattling my brain.” He had a migraine. Which wasn’t good on a regular day, but especially today, when he was supposed to crunch for an article he needed to write. He had most of it finished, but he needed to do one more section for it, make sure the facts were solid and then tomorrow he would edit.

You should not write right now, Eddie.

“No shit, Sherlock.”

It will make your migraine worse.

“No shit, she—“

But we need the money. How do we get rid of it?

Eddie sighed, rubbing gently at his sore temples. “It’ll go away on its own. There’s pills I can take to help, though.” Eddie imagined a bottle from his medicine cabinet, starting to move to get up and fetch it.

No.

Eddie felt a tug, pressing him back down to the bed.

Stay in bed and rest, we will get us our medicine.

“My hero,” Eddie croaked, laying back down very slowly. He reached for his laptop to start writing, taking it back from Venom’s various tentacles.

What are you doing? Venom pushed the laptop away from Eddie’s hands. You need to rest.

“I need to write. If I don’t get this article done we won’t get paid for all the work we did.”

I will write for us!

“But-“

I can see in your brain, Eddie. I know what needs to be written. You just need to think it, and I will take care of the writing. It will be much faster this way as well.

Eddie considered it, though momentarily paused as Venom nudged the bottle of pills at him, along with a glass of water. He glanced at the laptop screen— bad idea. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Okay. Okay. You do the writing then. I’ll take care of the body.”

Good. Take your medicine.

Eddie sighed and gathered a dose for himself, drinking water with the pill and laying down. Darkness settled over his eyes, not enough that he couldn’t see, but it was like someone had turned down the light. “Are you messing with my eyes?”

Yes. You are more comfortable this way. We will return them to normal when your migraine is gone.

Handy, Eddie thought.

Yes. Now focus on the article. What do we need to write next?

Venom showed him an image of the text on the screen through their bond, and Eddie began to mentally add on to the image, every word followed by the clicking of the keyboard.

We will be okay, Eddie.

Eddie felt a little ripple of affection and reassurance through their bond and smiled, sending his gratitude back. “I know, love. Thank you for taking care of this today.”

Venom pulsed with satisfaction, a stray tendril curling around Eddie’s hand. Of course.

—

Thank you for the prompt!! I hope you like it.

[sar-per]

Honestly, if wade were an organ donor, I think the organ(s) would die once it was outta his body. His cells are /constantly/ dying and regenerating, right, that's how his cancer's kept at bay unless I've got it wrong? (And I could be really, really wrong but) I think of him as a dead man walking.

Could very well be, it's been a very, very long time since I watched the movies

Tho this opens just a bunch of other questions for me

Like how much dust does this man accumulate in a day

Is there just..a trail of old skin cells all behind him

[restmyheadatnightcontent]

20.) “I can never look you in the eye again for geraskier or any m/m witcher ship you'd like :D

thank you so much for the prompt! i don’t know how it turned into a love letter for mary poppins oops sorry but hope you enjoy! some fluffy modern geraskier for this wednesday evening with just a hint of angst

____

“I can never look you in the eye again.”

“Jaskier, come on--”

“We’re going to have to cancel the wedding.”

“For fuck’s sake—"

“I just can’t Geralt, I cannot believe that you—”

“You’re being ridiculous.”

“I am not being ridiculous! I am reacting perfectly rationally to the fact that the man I have just learnt that the man I am going to marry has never seen Mary Poppins – I mean it’s practically criminal!”

“It’s just a film.”

“It is not just a film, Geralt - it is a cinematic masterpiece! I mean you have a child for gods sake, how have you not seen it?”

“I don’t know, Ciri has never asked to watch it or maybe she watched it at Yen’s but it’s not that big of a deal.”

“Not that big of a deal? Geralt, it’s a travesty!”

And so now he finds himself on the sofa, wrapped up in a blanket with a bowl of popcorn balanced on his lap whilst Jaskier sits next to him singing along to every song, a wide smile on his face. If he’s being honest, Geralt hasn’t been paying that much attention to the film. It’s nice and a lot more entertaining than some of the films he’s sat through with Ciri. But he finds it far more entertaining to watch Jaskier.

The way he lights up as every new song starts, swatting at Geralt’s arm and excitedly exclaiming ‘this one’s my favourite!’ at each of them; the way that he laughs unabashedly at each joke; the way he giggles through attempting his own cockney accent;  the way that he quietens and grabs Geralts hand as the Banks family make their way out of their door with their kite at the ready and the tears that Geralt can see in his eyes; and he thinks about a young Julian, with his own stern, distant father, sat pressed up against the screen wishing for his own magic nanny to come and save his family and bring laughter back into the house.

As the credits roll, Jaskier turns to him, eyes still damp with tears, and asks “What did you think?”

“It was fine,” he replies, pulling Jaskier to him so that he can press a kiss to his temple, smiling as he listens to Jaskier squawk about how ‘it is more than just fine Geralt’ and he watches in fond amusement as Jaskier schools him on exactly why the film is an outstanding feat of cinema and how Julie Andrews is the most perfect human ever created.

(And if a few days later, Jaskier catches him humming ‘a spoonful of sugar’, whilst doing the washing up and  spends the rest of the day with a big smile on his face, then Geralt can admit that maybe it is a pretty good film after all)

[jaskierswolf]

Painting the house that ends in a paint fight and giggles Geraskier?

I’m not saying I got carried away...but... I got carried away! ____________

Jaskier had a plan. It was the first house they’d owned for themselves and the first one they’d been allowed to decorate any more than the odd plant or poster. Jaskier was buzzing with excitement! The house was falling apart, typical first home problems really. They hadn’t been able to afford much more. Geralt was a car mechanic just starting his own business and Jaskier was a wannabe musician, temporarily a barista. Geralt’s salary went straight back into his business and Jaskier was barely managing to cover the rent, even with the extra shifts at a local nightclub but that didn’t mean they couldn’t make their house theirs. Jaskier had dragged Geralt to the DIY store and they’d bought as much paint as they could afford. The white paint would cover the flaking discoloured paint underneath and make the whole place seem a lot less dire. He’d also bought a lovely teal paint for a feature wall in the living room.

They both had their messiest cloths on. Well they both had some of Geralt’s messiest clothes on. Jaskier didn’t own messy clothes. Thank you very much. He put his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. Geralt had helped his cover the furniture with old sheets and they were ready!

“Oh this is going to be brilliant!” He grinned with a wave of his paint brush.

Geralt raised an eyebrow at him and picked up one of the rollers. “Have you ever painted walls before?”

“Does drawing over my bedroom in felt-tip pens count?” He asked as he brushed the bristles against his cheek. It was a new brush and it was so soft. It just wouldn’t be the same after they’d covered it in paint.

Geralt rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Just follow my lead.”

Jaskier saluted with his brush. “Right you are!”

As it turned out. Painting the house was fucking boring. Jaskier had pictured the whole affair to be rather more exciting. So, being Jaskier, he pretended to trip on his way past Geralt. As he felt the brush landed on the middle of Geralt’s chest.

“Oh fuck!” Jaskier gripped onto Geralt’s t-shirt and tried to wipe off the paint, definitely not using it as an excuse to feel Geralt’s muscles. That would be highly immoral of him.

“The fuck Jaskier!” Geralt snapped and glared at him fiercely.

Jaskier whimpered under the intensity of Geralt’s gaze. God he was so sexy and it was too much for Jaskier’s poor bisexual heart. No one’s best friend should be that hot. It was like he was begging Jaskier to fall in love with him.

“Oops.” He muttered, his voice going up in the end so it was almost a question.

Geralt just smirked and Jaskier felt his eyes go wide. Shit. He didn’t have time to scarper as Geralt lunged at him with his roller. He squeezed his eyes shut as the goopy roller went right down his face.

“Geralt!” He whined and he wiped his face with his hands. He looked down at the white paint all over his hands and then back at Geralt and grinned.

“Fuck.” Geralt muttered and vaulted over the sheet covered sofa. The fucker was fast but Jaskier was determined. He jumped at Geralt knowing that Geralt would catch him. He always caught him, it was just instinct at this point. Once Jaskier was safely nestled in Geralt’s arms he reached up and smeared Geralt’s face with paint.

It went back and forth until there was more paint on them than the walls. At some point one of the cracked open the teal paint so now Geralt’s hair was starting to look like a mermaid. Jaskier was captivated. He was so going to write a song about this! The fight ended with Jaskier pinned under Geralt’s firm strong thighs as he straddled Jaskier’s waist. Geralt was trying to get teal paint in Jaskier’s hair and he did not want that! He was getting awfully distracted by the closeness of Geralt’s body. Even covered in paint he was gorgeous.

Jaskier pouted. “Geralt!” He moaned and tried to wiggle free.

Geralt, to his surprise just stared at him, a faint red blooming on his cheeks. “Fuck, you’re beautiful.”

Jaskier squeaked. “I’m sorry what was that?!”

“Nothing.”

“Oh no. Not nothing!” Jaskier poked Geralt in the chest. “Say it again!”

“No.” Geralt grumbled and tried to get up but this time Jaskier was faster. He gripped onto Geralt’s t-shirt.

“Say it again,” Jaskier breathed, lowering his voice in a way that he hoped was sexy “and I’ll kiss you.”

Geralt didn’t miss a beat. “You’re beautiful.”

Jaskier grinned and pulled Geralt down into a kiss. After all these years all it took was a couple of tins of cheap paint. Jaskier wasn’t complaining.

[officerjennie]

Hey Jennie!! How about 6 or 37 from the prompt list for the witcher? Have fun!! Also, I love your writing ❤️❤️❤️❤️!!!

Since you didn’t mention a ship and I’m feeling Curious about one, I’m going with 37 “Wanna dance?” with Jaskier/Aiden :3 Hope you don’t mind the ship!

CW: Rated T. No real warnings? Some roughhousing between Lambert and Geralt. Aiden being a little shit. Lambert, too, being a little shit. Pretty tame flirting. Meet Cute Mischief. WC 2.6k+

--

It wasn’t every day that they ran into one of Geralt’s fellow witchers, let alone two.

Jaskier had watched, at first in horror, as a rather feisty fellow had hurdled himself towards Geralt and tackled him to the ground just outside of the village. They had just taken a contract over some odd noises and mysterious events surrounding an abandoned keep, one the villagers themselves had insisted on them taking despite how many times Geralt had told them he doubted it was anything - apparently it sounded much less like a monster and much more like a secret getaway for the young folk about but the innkeep had been certain something foul was afoot. 

At the very least, Jaskier thought it would make an amusing tale, already crafting lines and lyrics as Geralt tied Roach up in the stable and went off towards the keep (allowing Jaskier to tag along without complaint for once, considering it shouldn’t be dangerous).

Which is one reason Jaskier was rather startled, to put it lightly, when he was suddenly witness to one of the toughest brawls he’d ever seen Geralt take part of. Geralt had grunted and then snarled when he hit the ground, rolling and grabbing for the other man’s limbs, them both rolling while Jaskier clutched at the strap that held his lute to his back, some rather undignified squeaks escaping him while he struggled to keep up with their movements. 

But he couldn’t just stand there stalk still while his nearest and dearest friend was fighting for his life. He jerked his arm into motion, grabbing for the dagger Geralt had tried to convince him not to buy half a year ago at one of the southern markets, and managed to fight it out of its sheath and hold it at arms length, waiting for just the right moment to throw it at the accoster. 

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you, darlin’.”

He jumped and whipped around, dagger first, and the man who’d snuck up behind him didn’t quite duck in time to completely miss the blade. It cut into his cheek, a drop of blood slowly dripping down, cat eyes staring at him in a way that made him freeze.

A smirk that Jaskier really wasn’t sure was from amusement or a promise of death stretched his lips, showing off some very sharp teeth. 

“G-Geralt?”

“I’m busy, Jaskier.”

A thump from behind him allowed Jaskier to jerk his head around, seeing Geralt pining the other man face first into the dusty road - but the other man was laughing, even as Geralt’s face was twisted into a snarl, the both of them dirty and scratched up from their fight.

“Damnit, Lambert,” he gave the man another shove but then got off of him, and Jaskier almost squeaked out that that was very much not a good idea - but then Geralt was helping the man up, the anger fading from his face as he dusted some of the dirt off of him.

Dusted...the dirt off of him, yes, because that’s something completely normal for enemies to do with one another. Help clean them off. After fighting. Maybe Jaskier had never woken up that morning after all and this was just some strange dream? Would explain the way the other other man leaned forward into his face sudden, nose twitching as he sniffed, a thoughtful frown tugging his lips down as Jaskier leaned away from the invasion.

“Smell like lavender, but not the flowers. Fancy your oils, huh?”

“Do you know these men, Geralt?” He took a step back away from the one that was once again giving him that smirk, beating a hasty retreat to his friend’s side. Geralt, for his part, finally looked away from the man he’d started to exchange some pleasantries - or what counted as pleasantries for his dear witcher, which was mostly grouching - and turned to look at the other witcher.

He cocked his head, and Jaskier knew before he said anything that Geralt didn’t know that one. “Lambert, one of my brothers.” He slapped Lambert in the chest with the back of his hand, passing the hit off as handing him back the weapon he had gripped in that hand. The man - Geralt’s brother, apparently - took it and buckled it to his side, though not without shooting Geralt a shit eating grin. “The other one I don’t know.”

“Oh, I’m wounded, Lamb.” The man practically purred the words before bowing with a flourish. “Aiden, not necessarily at your service.”

“Don’t call me Lamb, kitty cat.”

“Watch who you call kitty cat, sweets.”

From the increasingly dangerous looks on the two witchers’ faces, Jaskier thought it best to interrupt them then. “Jaskier, long time sufferer of all the hmms and grunts that Geralt passes as communication - though perhaps we could save further introductions for later? We have an, ahhh, rather important contract to be getting done.”

It wasn’t a contract they ended up doing alone. Lambert and Aiden followed them with little hesitation, the promise of shared coin more than enough to garner their interest (though Aiden made a few faces at the correct of a small amount of coin). Really it wasn’t all that surprising, after all; though Geralt was a rather closed book about a lot of his personal life Jaskier had learned over the years that his brothers were very near and dear to him, and he saw them very little throughout the year - winter being the one big exception.

The two brothers spent most of the journey trading snarky remarks and the occasional shove, Geralt doing his best (and utterly failing) to seem like he wasn’t as into the roughhousing as his brother. With those two rather busy catching up it left Jaskier to follow behind them, wondering what tales those two had to share, what journeys they’d spent together, what hunts they’d conquered.

“Didn’t know what I expected,” Aiden mused, suddenly next to him, his silent steps making Jaskier jump when he finally noticed him. “But it wasn’t what I see, ya know? Big hero and all that.”

“Huh?”

“Suppose anyone could seem a hero, if the right bard sings of them.” He gave a wink, his arms crossed behind his head as he walked, the silver beads in his tight braids glittering in the sunlight. It took a moment for Jaskier to catch up with what he was saying but finally he did, turning back to look at the brothers that walked ahead of them, both looking very much like the heroes to him.

Who else would carry such broad swords so proudly on their backs, wear such armor, but the heroes? Maybe not all witchers would be quite as heroic as Geralt but Jaskier was firm in his belief that they were all capable of such, like so many of his own kind seemed to sniff at in disbelief.

“You’ve not met him before,” Jaskier said a little tightly, trying to not get too defensive of his friend. “No one looks like their proudest moments but he exemplifies them nonetheless. As much as he loves to blather on about not getting involved he puts himself right where he needs to be, even when no one would think to thank him for it.”

“No one but you.”

Jaskier blinked at that, not really sure what Aiden was on about. But he didn’t have time to ask, Geralt motioning for them to come to a halt now that they’d reached the keep, the group of them going quiet for now.

It was, as it turned out, not just a gathering place for the young folk. Aiden was the one who found the mountain lion kits and quickly shooed the rest of them away, sniffing about the rest of the place himself without their help and coming back with a shrug. Nothing but cats and ghosts.

“And not the fun kind of ghosts.” Aiden tossed a coin idly into the air, a rather dirt caked one he’d found during his scrounging. “Just old smells, tattered fabric, a faded painting or two. No monsters here, dear pups.”

“Then what about the noises?” Maybe he sounded a bit whiny but Jaskier had walked all the way here for essentially nothing if it wasn’t even a romantic getaway; his feet were tired and his muse demanded fuel.

But Aiden just flicked the coin in the air again, letting it land in his palm as he said, “Ever hear a mountain lion scream, little bird?”

He had not, and when Aiden made them stick around til he did he regretted admitting as much. Jaskier was very glad to make it back to the inn, empty handed or not.

The innkeep, however, was very reluctant to let go of any coin, even if there were now three witchers and a disgruntled bard there to stare him down. In the end Jaskier managed to convince him to part with some of what he’d promised though not all, and to make up for the rest (to keep that anger he saw flash in Lambert’s eyes at bay) he promised to perform and earn enough coin to keep the gull flowing.

It was a real shame he didn’t have any ballads yet for the other two. His performances went as well as usual, the crowd eating out of his hands, the general mood shifting from hot tension to easy fun. As the night went on he saw even the witchers easing into their corner, the innkeep pleased enough with the promised production that the gull was soon free to the three, something that brought a brilliant smile to Jaskier’s face and a new wind to his songs.

There had been a rather shy woman near the edge of the room at the start of his performance, who left sometime through but came back later in the night. In her hands was a lute of her own, and in-between a brief breather between songs she came up to him and asked, if it wasn’t a bother, if he wouldn’t mind, would it be all right if she joined in as well.

And who was he, honestly, to say no to such a quiet and hopeful request?

She was an absolute talent and Jaskier had nothing but praise for the music she weaved with her fingers. It was a bit of a fumble at first, them not knowing the same songs, eventually crafting some new ones just for this particular crowd to enjoy. Because she was so shy and hesitant Jaskier had to admit he was worried the room of rather drunken bar tenants might not take kindly to her attempts but he was pleasantly surprised, and after a time he even left it to her, bowing out to marvel at the pride and confidence that held her shoulders straight now.

There was no doubt about it, she had talent. He leaned back against a wooden pillar in the room, his breaths a little heavy from exertion, his heart light in his chest. Oh, what a time to be alive, to witness the youth come into their own.

No matter that he was still young himself. He could have wistful, old man thoughts if he liked.

“You seem to do that to people.”

“You seem to love to sneak up on others, you daft-” Jaskier cut himself off, startled into his sass and nearly falling over when he jerked away from the pillar. Aiden now leaned his shoulder into the side of it, one dark eyebrow raised, his eyes alight with amusement - which just made Jaskier wish he hadn’t stopped his sass, if he were honest.

“Startle easy, little bird?”

“What do you mean?” He ignored the second question, for now settling back into his spot, habitually checking that his lute was indeed still on the table to his right where he’d placed it a little while before.

“Bring that out in them.” Aiden nodded his head towards the woman, but his eyes didn’t leave Jaskier. “Whatever you’d call that. Confidence. Belief in their self. Their proudest moments, you have a knack for bringing those out, don’t you?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.” He sniffed delicately, but did add, “Though I suppose I am a rather decent influence. Hard to be around such talent and not seek it out yourself. And I do have quite the air of confidence I’ve been told.”

“And your smart, and beautiful, and have the single best taste in fashion, and are oh so modest to boot,” Aiden drawled, that dangerous smirk coming back, and this time perhaps it was the atmosphere around them - the belly laughter from the crowd, the smell of drink in the air, upbeat and cheerful music kept in time with the stomping of boots on the floor - but that smirk made Jaskier’s heart flutter dangerously in his chest.

Despite the implied insults. Or, fake compliments. Or assumed bloated sense of self that Aiden was suggestion - there were plenty of ways to take his teasing but Jaskier was certain it wasn’t meant to be harmful.

Mostly certain.

“Do you usually travel with Lambert, then?”

He wasn’t really sure what possessed him to ask that. Before he had much time to think on it he flicked his eyes away from that dangerously handsome face - handsome face? - and focused instead on his newest pupil, who had taken a request for a dance piece that was apparently popular in the area. A few in the crowd started to push some tables aside drunkenly, saved by the few sensible not drunk patrons, and soon her fingers were plucking away and the place became twice as lively as it had before.

“Yes, I do, little bird.” Jaskier dared to glance over at him, able at least to not get distracted by the beads in his braids, now nearest to the side Aiden kept shaved. “Lamb and I have been through quite a lot over the years. He’s got my back and I’ve got his, no matter the circumstance.” Something dangerous flashed in his eyes but it was gone when Jaskier blinked next, cat eyes focusing on him again instead of off into the distance on memories he had no knowledge of. Yet. “He is my friend, and I don’t say that word lightly.”

“I’m telling him you said that.”

“The bird threatens the cat now?”

“Oh are we speaking in third person now?”

He really wasn’t sure what had come over him, but something about Aiden - something about that look in his eyes, how the gold in his eyes seemed to glow against his dark skin, how the even darker freckles dusted his cheeks beckoned his fingers to brush against them-

There was just something about him that drew Jaskier in.

Aiden cocked his head, studying him, and for just a moment Jaskier felt very much like the birds he loved to compare him to, trapped in a cat’s gaze. But it wasn’t fear that made him lean forward just so, towards the man he’s amazed he’d never even met before halfway through that day. 

And then Aiden’s gaze softened, just for a moment, and he said so softly that Jaskier could have been entirely mistaken that he heard it at all: “You’ll do.”

Before he could ask him to repeat himself, the softness was gone, replaced with a mischievous grin that looked like it belonged on those full lips. “Music’s picking up, little bird. Care to dance?” And before Jaskier had even registered he’d said yes he found his hand snatched up lightning fast, whirled into the crowd of men and women and others who remained faceless to him - because the only face his eyes could see was the one with that sharp grin with teeth, owned by the man who danced with cat like grace and a body that was deceptively lithe, whose eyes never once left him in turn.

[knifewieldingenby]

for the nsfw drabbles: vanilla & massage? (ik it's on the boring side but pLEASE let me have geraskier treating eacho ther right and soft)

warning: very short, soft adult content

Geralt groans, muscles squeezing tight where Jaskier’s cock rests inside him. The man isn’t moving, simply resting there like it’s where he belongs, and Geralt would have to agree with that. He’s distracted by warm hands sliding over his chest, lute-calloused fingers softly tickling his nipples. He pants and pushes his hips toward the man. Jaskier lets him for a second before he moves one hand to Geralt’s hip and holds him down. 

“Jask,” Geralt moans. Jaskier leans over and swallows the sound with his mouth, lips moving slow and wet. 

“Patience, love.” He pulls away and goes back to kneading at Geralt’s chest, working out the knots in his sore body. His fingers slide down and dig into Geralt’s ribs, earning him a deep rumble. Slowly, to damn slow, he pulls out a little and pushes back in. After the prolonged stillness it feels divine, like too much and not nearly enough all at once. 

“Please Jask, more,” Geralt tries to move his hips again, and this time Jaskier allows the motion as he leans over and peppers kisses along Geralt’s shoulders, hips pushing forward again.

“Anything for you, dear heart.”

[king-finnigan]

Yes please show me what u drew friend 🥺

i drew. snail icarus (snicarus)