#witcher fam

[highbeeans]

Jaskier’s having a great time. Commissioned by @statisticallymorelikely ❤ ❤ ❤

[kalienareads]

thinking abt the way s2 saw jaskier, geralt, and yennefer all losing things most important to them (outside of the three of them) and finding their love (again) and purpose (new) in each other and ciri

[yellow-faerie]

For @wren-of-the-woods for being my first ever follower on Tumblr and also for our general screaming into the void about the Witcher and the Amazing Devil. You also have the best fic recs and that is not an understatement (your taste in fics is impeccable).

Link to AO3.

The snow is mushy and grey when Geralt finally stops running, seemingly deciding they are safe from their pursuers.

Jaskier – despite the fact that this particular doublet was new and certainly not cheap – slumps onto the ground in relief and wonders when, exactly, the burning in his lungs is going to dissipate.

Thankfully, he is not the only one suffering as Yennefer is leaning against a tree with a hand on her hip and breathing heavily, and Ciri has crouched down and put her head between her knees, as if she might throw up.

Geralt, of course, looks unaffected but Jaskier suspects that might be the swallow in his veins.

“Well,” he says when he starts to think he might one day be able to breath properly again, “I must say that this has been exactly how I saw our Midwinter going.”

Yennefer laughs sharply, a bark into the cold air. It’s contagious, apparently, as soon they are all in breathless laughter and Geralt is even smiling.

“I must say, the way that man’s face fell as the song went on,” Ciri says, between hitching laughs. “That was possibly one of the best parts.”

“I don’t know.” Yennefer smiles in that sharp way she is prone to. “The fear when he realised who he fucked with was possibly even better.”

Geralt grunts as he falls to the ground heavily. “I would have preferred if…ugh-” He peels back fabric from a bleeding cut and Yennefer pushes herself forward to examine it. “-I’d been paid. It’s not that – ah, careful Yenn – easy to defeat a nest of drowners.”

“We got away didn’t we? I’d say that’s good enough. We’ve enough money to get us a room in an inn for the next three weeks at least.”

Geralt looks up from where Yennefer is carefully stitching up his wound. “We do?” He asks incredulously.

“Sure.” Jaskier shrugs. “And that’s with the added frivolity,” he makes a point to put very pronounced air quotes around ‘frivolity’, “of having a decent bath.”

“Oh a bath would be lovely,” Ciri sighs, a little wistfully.

“I never says baths were frivolous Jaskier, but your excessive use of…oils and perfumes is frankly unnecessary.”

“Unnecessary, he says,” Jaskier puts a hand over his heart and puts on a faux heartbroken face. “I’ll have you know, it takes a lot to create this perfection.”

Yennefer snorts. “Yeah, you could certainly call it that.”

Jaskier splutters but finds he’s too tired to keep coming up with witty comebacks. “Oh, come on Ciri – let’s go find some firewood where we’re appreciated.”

He rises to his feet, turning his face away from Yennefer with a great deal of exaggeration. He can practically hear her exasperation as Ciri runs to catch up with him.

The wood is mostly too damp for even Yennefer to deal with and so Ciri climbs up some of the trees to find some of the old twigs that get caught up in the higher branches rather than falling all the way down while he hacks off some of the green wood that look like they could catch fire with a bit of effort.

They wander back to the makeshift camp in high spirits and all pretend arguments well forgotten.

Yennefer has already cleared a space for the fire and Geralt is scowling where he lies on one of the waterproof sleeping mats.

“Is he being a big baby about his injuries recovering correctly again?” Ciri asks, smiling affectionately.

Geralt scowls harder. Jaskier knows that this would have been ‘fuck off’ to anybody other than his child surprise.

Yennefer smiles a bit wider. “Yeah, he doesn’t like the idea of not being hypervigilant 24/7. Jaskier, you’re going to have to sleep on him if we don’t want him wandering off in the night.”

“You know I can hear you.”

“We are,” Jaskier and Yennefer say at the same time and Ciri hides a snort of laughter as Geralt’s scowl gets impossibly darker.

“And I am capable of looking after myself but we could still be being chased and I really-”

“Geralt,” Jaskier says, crouching down as Yennefer and Ciri begin with the fire, “I don’t think that a bunch of scared, untrained pitchfork-wielding peasants are really going to be a huge problem for the strongest chaos-wielder in centuries and Yennefer.”

“Fuck off bard.”

“It could have been a compliment.” He turns back to Geralt. “It was not. Anyway, where was I – oh yes, how you don’t seem to trust Yennefer or the girl you trained yourself to be able to protect themselves.”

“And what about you? You’re useless on a battlefield.”

There is genuine worry on Geralt’s face, hidden rather by the scathing comment. “Ah, well, I shall play the damsel in distress as always and shall we summarily ignored in favour of the much more impressive threats.”

Geralt looks like he might argue but he then grunts and sinks back in defeat. “Fine. Have it your way.”

“I will thank you.” He sits primly on the edge of the waterproof mat and watches as Yennefer gently teases Ciri as they go about roasting a few pigeons Yennefer apparently caught while they had been collecting firewood.

“You know,” Geralt says softly, after they’ve been sitting in silence for a good few minutes, “I’m sorry. I know you celebrate…something at midwinter and…it hasn’t been exactly celebratory conditions.”

“This is alright, really,” Jaskier says softly. “I…Midwinter’s about family and so as long as I’m with you and Yenn and Ciri, then I have nothing more I can ask for.”

“Ah, that’s so sappy bard,” Yennefer says, not turning around.

Jaskier frowns. “I am notsappy – I am an artist and everything I say is poetic and artisticnot…sappy.”

“No, that was sappy.” Ciri looks at Geralt who nods in agreement.

“Oh, you’re all the worst.”

Yennefer rolls her eyes, leaning over to grab something from their bags of supplies. “That face does not suit you. Play something us something happy.”

“Oh, I see, I am merely entertainment to you all,” Jaskier says, feigning betrayal, but still he begins to pluck out the tune to some dance Essi while they were still little Bardlings at Oxenfurt and his biggest worries were how to one-up Valdo Marx.

As he begins to sing, Ciri drags Yennefer into a dance and Geralt even hums softly (something Jaskier chooses to ignore until it is a better time to tease him over it) and Jaskier finds himself…content, which is enough, really.

[trashbaggage]

People linked by destiny will always find each other.

The words, burning ever hotter in that fevered state, used to leave the sour taste of cruelty in his mouth. Destiny seemed nothing more than an excuse to cover a multitude of sins, spanning from the senseless violence of war to the casual malice in abandoning your child, alone and scared and with no idea of the horrors ahead.

3 out of 10 boys.

Surely, his survival was destined, then.

Destiny had greater use for him, but not until he was baptized by fire and pain and sorrow. If the little boy was weak, well, his destiny was always to die in service of something bigger, to be the blood ground in dirt for others to feed upon. But if that child survived? Destiny says he is made to carry more, for to become great, you had to suffer greatly. Because destiny does not deal in the small, the mundane, the quiet of a life well-lived and peaceful. Its edges are not dulled by softness.

And he had rightfully called horseshit.

The trials he had gone through, that had twisted up that boy and spat out a mess, were not to be lauded, or looked upon as necessary to a greater purpose. His suffering, then and now, is not validated in each stroke of steel into what they call monsters. He is - in spite of, not because of.

So that brand of Destiny can fuck off.

But lately...

Lately, he’s been turning that phrase over and over again in his mind, and finding unexpected comfort in its harsh lines.

People linked by destiny will always find each other.

He’s actually starting to believe it; probably because those people who keep returning to his life feel like a choice. Destiny presents them as opportunities, full of potential, just waiting for him to push away or pull closer. And, admittedly, he usually goes in for that first option, but he’s getting used to the second.

Destiny is not so much an iron band choking his wrists and throat, but a hand stretching out and seeking connection.

He looks at Ciri, small face determined as she tries to follow his movements, her sword arcing in sunlight as she learns to fight and protect herself - to protect her loved ones. She will not submit to the repeating cycle of loss that certain people will claim as Destiny’s trials, and he can’t believe such a fierce little thing chooses to stay on his path. He will try to give her what that little boy had never gotten.

Violet eyes catch his, and it’s a wonder to see how they relax and lose that hardened edge of hunger and hunted. Yennefer does not suffer fools, but still somehow lets him curl his jagged pieces into hers. They’re not a perfect fit, far from it, but they wouldn’t have it any other way. He knows she will guard his back and his heart, with all her beautifully selfish wanting, and she will choose to let him stay.

Calloused hands plucking deft melodies from the warmth of a summer night, and a smile limned in fondness and firelight; Jaskier always looks back at him with a steady gaze unfamiliar with fear. He is a constant, a home built over decades that he can carry with him, and every kiss and song and snarky remark settles the wretched loneliness born of that crueler Destiny. No matter how badly he had treated him in the past, those cutting denials of friendship and cold shoulders made sharper with insecurity, Jaskier always chose to welcome him back so he could prove he could be better. He likes to think he’s better.

So he’s learned to greet Destiny as more friend than foe, these days, and he treats it as a culmination of choices rather than a baseless faith rooted in inaction.

Visenna chose to leave him; his family chooses to keep him; and he will choose to live for that little boy.

His destiny is choice, not chance. Great, small, or somewhere in the middle - Geralt will shape destiny to fit the man he decides to be.

[asolitaryrose]

@vaultn7 replied to your post “ciri-yen-iris: top 3 things I love about the witcher: Geralt would...”

RIP Triss...

Triss who? 

[highbeeans]

That's why Jaskier's sleeves are so big, they're full of secrets!

I thoroughly enjoyed making these Witcher fam stickers! Check them out over here.

[highbeeans]

“I’ve been dreaming of a true love’s kiss~”

“Ignore the man, Ciri.”

“I think he’s singing to you, Dad.”

Have some witcher fam at Disneyland. @statisticallymorelikely thought Jaskier would make a great Prince Edward from Enchanted so here we are.

P.s. Saw this shirt and knew Geralt had to wear it.

[highbeeans]

Here’s witcher fam hanging out with with their fave villagers!

Which are your fave villagers?

Witcher crossing stickers are available here.