dragonlady7 | Entries tagged with jaskier

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lothlaer:

sisspoo:

idk if i have any witcher fans following me, but here’s some cursed imagery compliments of

lothlaer and i (wherein em provides me with various polly pocket / ken doll outfits and i draw jaskier in them bc that’s unfortunately the exact brand of energy he exudes)

bonus:

i have never been so simultaneously ecstatic and appalled in my life. thank you for my life

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Jaskier paused to drink from the bottle. He should stop; he was on the verge of belligerence with an all-powerful mage standing in his bedroom with her arms crossed.

But he’d done stupider things, and hadn’t died yet and when his time came he could only die once, so. Melitele knew, he’d irritated this particular mage often enough that when she finally snapped and killed him he’d richly deserve it, so why stop now?

The next-next bit of Ancient Sea is going well but I’m going to have a Little Fishie update up later this morning instead, featuring a great deal of expanded Feral Disaster Brat Jaskier content (plus a vampire hunt plus the eyeshine scene) once I’ve finished hunting down and killing all the extra spaces around the italics. Yes, yes, I know, there are scripts for that, but how else am I going to last-minute figure out what the themes of the piece are?

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I did get some Jaskier POV back in the present-day part of Meet Death Sitting and I self-inserted my folk music session experiences to do it, ha ha! this won’t be in the next update of The Ancient Sea, but probably the one after that, so hold on. and listen, I wrote lyrics for this, and they might even scan. No guarantees. Also it took a real effort of will not to have Jaskier say “it’s over for you hoes” but know, in my heart, that’s what he says, there.

Anyway, Jaskier’s Advanced Bardic Performance Techniques Session section is harassing him for being low-energy, and he has to turn up:

(cw for earworms and your mom jokes)

“It’s just sexual frustration,” Allisande said. “He’s wasting away.”

“Mmm,” Jaskier said, “that is actually my problem. Very keenly diagnosed, thank you Allisande.”

“Pining after someone’s mother?” Dotlef asked nastily.

“Oh, no,” Jaskier said, “I broke up with your mother years ago, she was insatiable, Dotlef,” which made Dotlef put down the recorder and start to his feet, which meant Hestia had to shove her harp in between the two of them, and Jaskier gave Marija a little winking salute and she rolled her eyes.

“Sit down,” she said to Dotlef, “my gods, you started it,” but she was smiling.

“No no,” Jaskier said, “I am pining because after twenty years I finally got that Witcher to kiss me, but now he’s gone into exile in the desert or something and I will never get him to plow me the way I have been trying for these last twenty years, and I’m just trying to work out how to make it a good ballad. Once I do, though, then it’s over for the rest of you, because it’s going to be really good.”

“I didn’t know you could kiss a Witcher,” one of the students said, a bit dazed.

“Mmmm yes you can,” Jaskier said, and tipped his head back and played a little run on the lute, a riff off of the now-famous bit of Toss A Coin (it had been famous enough for long enough that it was cliche, which was simultaneously depressing and thrilling, depending on the day).

Allisande sang, in his lovely baritone, “Oh you can kiss a Witcher, if you’ve no sense of danger, you’ve no sense of danger, oh-oh-oh!”

“No!” Marija shouted. “No Toss A Coin, we have a rule!”

“And no monsterfucking,” Hestia said, “that’s rule two, no songs about monsterfucking.”

“A Witcher isn’t a monster,” Jaskier said, which was an old point of contention by now, “but I will abide by the first rule anyway, since I made the rule in the first place.” It was possible to get tired of one’s own cliche, it turned out. Anyway, Oxenfurt’s stately halls were not particularly in need of pro-Witcher propaganda anymore, after fifteen years of Jaskier’s intermittent residence. He hadn’t stopped playing the song, and now he modulated it into something else.

I came upon him finally, and close to death was he
I wept to see him in that state, his strength reduced to this;
He gave to me his silver knife, and bade me set him free
Between his ribs I plunged it fast, his bleeding mouth I kissed

“That’s, ah,” Hestia said. “That sounds like monsterfucking.”

“Oh, yes, the knife’s a metaphor,” Allisande said. Then, hesitant, he added, “Surely?”

“I wish it was a metaphor,” Jaskier said. “No, I stabbed him in the fucking chest, it was awful. But he got better.”

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I want more Feral Disaster Brat Jaskier fic, does anyone have any recs??

he’s so textbook, like, poor little rich boy, but like– abused poor little rich boy, family trying to shove him into a mold he doesn’t fit into, teetering on that edge of having been raised rich and privileged and well aware that while he has access to all the money anyone could need, that access is precarious and predicated on fitting into a mold that would kill him by inches, and maybe he walks on that tightrope for a while, balancing suffocating obedience with ridiculous defiance, but probably he hurts himself a lot and does increasingly stupid reckless shit with it, and Geralt meets him just as he’s broken free of it and is out in the world broke and lost and free and savage and high on making his own decisions, no matter how bad they are, just for himself, fuck you dad.

(You can throw in an extra layer, when he meets Geralt, of him recognizing that no, Geralt has the objectively horrifying background, and all his own problems are really just his own fault and he’s so stupid to be so broken-up about the fact that his parents never cared for him because he wasn’t who they’d wanted him to be. They only tried to fantasy-conversion-therapy him, they didn’t, like, strap him to a gurney and literally mutate him or anything, so he needs to stop crying and get over this before this incredibly hot guy laughs at him, and Geralt’s like… I do not know how to process this but I very badly want this boy to stop being so vicious to himself.)

(I feel like this is really well-suited to a modern A/U, somehow. I’m trying to write it in canon-verse but it’s not really, well. I can’t go as far with it as somebody could in a modern A/U. And because of the constraints of POV I basically can’t even show it. So my lust remains unsatisfied, here.)

You combine that with the Bad Decisions Because Of All The Trauma Geralt, and you have a really winning combination of Disaster Humans who would make such beautiful terrible decisions together, and eventually maybe would figure out how to take care of one another.

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this is another WIP snippet I won’t get around to posting for several more days (it’ll be in Little Fishie eventually) but I’m just so proud of myself, in various discussions there were headcanons that Witchers totally have eyeshine and i have been struggling now for days to come up with a scenario to show that off and i just managed it.

_____

“It was hard for me to tear myself away to go back out on the road this summer, I’ll have you know,” Jaskier went on. “But, I thought, absence has a way of improving affection, surely, especially in someone as, hm, concentrated in dosage as myself–”

Geralt snorted semi-accidentally, and Jaskier went on, sounding smug– he’d set that up, the bastard, to get a reaction– “so my going away was really only in service of my eventual triumphant return. Or so I hope. We’ll see if she has missed me when I come back.”

“I’m sure she has,” Geralt said.

“Also her husband spends the summers with her,” Jaskier said, “and it seemed politic for me to– aaugh!”

Geralt had just stepped out from behind a tree to give Jaskier a disapproving look at the tidbit about the husband, and Jaskier was between him and the fire. Jaskier, looking at him in the gloom of the woods, shrieked and dropped whatever branches he had, and went scrambling backward into the clearing, tripping over himself.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Geralt said, following him.

Jaskier flailed backward almost into the fire, and finally recognized Geralt. “What the fuck,” he said.

Geralt knew exactly what had happened. The firelight had caught his eyes, and in the dark that was all Jaskier had seen of him. “It’s just me, you dim shit, I was standing there the whole fucking time,” he said, a little more viciously than he meant to, but it never put him in a good mood when a companion was horrified to incoherence by some aspect of his fundamental physical self.

He dumped the branches down onto the ground, and went back to retrieve the ones Jaskier had dropped in his sudden terror.

“It’s just you,” Jaskier said faintly, gathering himself. “Holy fu– the light caught your eyes so strangely, you looked like a wolf or something.”

“I am a fucking wolf,” Geralt said, really grumpy now.

“No but like you had, what’s that called, ah, tapetum lucidum, oh yeah– eyeshine,” Jaskier said. “What a strange illusion.”

“I do have eyeshine,” Geralt snarled.

“You do not!” Jaskier said, astonished.

Geralt growled in annoyance, but stepped back into the shadows and crouched to turn and look at the fire from Jaskier’s level.

“Oh holy fuck,” Jaskier said, “you do, that is fucking awesome, how did I never notice that?”

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I am doing the classic mistake of working on too many ideas at once, and so nothing is done, but here is a lil Geralt/Jaskier thing from unspecified past timeline.

Geralt looked at him for a moment, then looked down at his hands, this time making much of gathering himself, for humorous effect. “I can’t believe,” he said slowly, “that I am going to have to be the one to say this to you, Jaskier, but– your feelings–” He paused, breathed out, and breathed back in again. “Are valid, and other people having it worse or not doesn’t change that.”

It worked; Jaskier laughed. “Did that hurt?” he said. “It sounded like it hurt.”

“It hurt, a bit,” Geralt admitted. “Now don’t make me say it again. I’m sorry to hear of your trouble.”

“Thank you,” Jaskier said, subdued.

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on AO3, here’s an Explicit installment in the Meet Death Sitting series. Firstly, several things:

it is Jaskier/Yennefer, and there are some content warnings explained there in detail in the beginning and ending notes with specific triggers pointed out. (It is not noncon, it is also not either of them cheating on Geralt; I have a sort of poly kind of endgame there, none of the characters think of it as cheating. I’m just explaining this for people who are having OTP kind of feels about stuff so you can adjust your mindset and not worry.)

That said, on to the fun:

Innermost Depths, a whopping 12400 words, on AO3 featuring illusions, shapeshifting, pegging, transactions, politics, and Jaskier living the life of petty academic drama.

It also contains the excerpt about the teeth, and the short snippet I posted this morning, and is why I named the series the same thing I named the first story, because that theme is echoed in this one.

“So,” Yennefer said, “it seems to me you are the only possible source of the information I’m looking for, which is how in the name of fuck anyone could legitimately spontaneously fall in love with him.”

Jaskier nodded. “Well,” he said, “there’s the ass.”

“A lot of people have fantastic asses,” Yennefer said dangerously, unamused.

Jaskier writhed inwardly. “Jaw,” he said.

“An awful lot of people have good facial bone structure,” Yennefer said, sounding even more dangerous. Jaskier had the tip of his tongue between his teeth and she cut him off with “Don’t you dare say thighs or I’ll pull your guts out through your face.”

“Listen,” Jaskier said, looking at the ceiling. “You’re more or less asking me to just rip open my own chest and show you my beating heart so you can pick at it and maybe eat the parts you like. It’s not conducive to great honesty. I could show you some of my old poems, maybe, but I don’t think I can just– vomit it all out for you right now, no matter how terrifyingly you glower at me.”

“Maybe I should just kill you,” she said speculatively.

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lol in the next bit i’m writing i’ve found a new life motto for jaskier

He was probably going to regret all of this, in short order, but, well. Everyone had to die sometime. Better to face death head-on, and make oneself comfortable. Maybe spread one’s legs.

listen this isn’t a fluffy sweet story with heartwarming life-affirming sex but jaskier is going to get some.

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daryshkart:

i love immortal Jaskier concept, but i raise you silver fox Jaskier~

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So the next sequential bit of Meet Death Sitting is taking some editing. It’s. Also not super-fluffy? It’s not noncon but it’s like, there’s some sort of… transactional? sex in it? and it’s. It’s not dark exactly, but it’s not as sweet as the rest has been.

So for this lovely freezing Friday I’m tossing y’all a coin in the form of a reasonably-fluffy backstory fic featuring Eskel. Who, I know, in the first installment of Meet Death Sitting, I had Jaskier say he hadn’t met. But.

(I’m asking this in the fic notes too– should we pretend he’s an unreliable narrator or should I fix that line and make this line up better? or what? feel free to weigh in)

So anyway, this also is where the most recent banter post I made wound up finding its home. Not shippy, but there’s some fun homoeroticism, everyone loves that.

Along Came This Song, 5900 words, on AO3.

“You,” Eskel said, with sudden realization. He’d been catching up to that bard; the last town had said he’d been through “yesterday”. Posh, Redanian, foppish, string calluses on fingers. This was the guy, beyond all doubt.

The young man blinked, not without alarm. “Me,” he said.

“Do you know,” Eskel said, making himself speak more quietly. Also he was looming over the kid, so he sat down on his haunches to look at him more on his eye level. “I’ve been on this road three weeks, and for the last two, people have suddenly been tossing coins at me wherever I go.”

The young man looked perplexed for the barest instant, then guilty, then delighted. “Have you now,” he said.

Bonus content:

It was sort of Geralt’s fault they’d gotten chased out of town before the bard could even try to play at the inn; Roach had wandered off and had apparently eaten an entire nest of new-hatched chicks right out from under a broody hen, and there had been a lot of screaming and general unwarranted chaos. That wasn’t such odd behavior for a horse, really, but the fact that she was a Witcher’s horse meant everyone figured she was cursed.

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fannishliss (is that your Tumblr handle??) has not only composed, but also performed and recorded, an entirely perfect rendition of the Fat Baby song that Jaskier extemporizes (upon meeting a Perfect Fat Baby) in chapter 7 of Meet Death Sitting and it is here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/22811167

Please go and listen to this and shower love upon this masterpiece because it is much better than I had even imagined.

(The only part I wrote was that the chorus was just “Fat baby!” over and over, so as to be singable by the assembled Simple Villagers.)

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jerry-of-rivia:

bomberqueen17:

( the contents of my post with the excerpt about geralt's terrible dining habits, reblogged )

I’M HOLLERING

No judgement for my mutant gremlin’s opportunistic protein acquisition

[image description: a four-panel cartoon of 1) Jaskier from the Witcher exclaiming "Aww!" over a nest of peeping baby birds while Geralt, beside him, regards it with interest 2) Geralt, mouth full, going CRONCH, 3) close-up of Jaskier extremely horrified, 4) Geralt, confused, asking Jaskier "did you want some?"]

i am DYING, the expressions– OMG

just to add fuel to this fire, you know horses are opportunistic omnivores right? they’ll eat carrion or small animals they find (and in the case of a notable French horse from the Napoleonic wars, an entire Russian lieutenant who likely didn’t start out dead [ctrl+f “Lisette” on this page to get that and the bonus story of Freight Train, who had to wear a wire muzzle] )– I just saw an Icelandic Pony appreciation blog post about how their pony got into the dried mealworms for the chickens and just went hog– so you know Roach is like, right up there with him. He probably gives her the bits he doesn’t like.

So not only is she this insane hostile creature who bites people, she also probably gets him thrown out of a town or two for poking her head in the henhouses and eating the chicks like that’s not even a special Witcher horse thing that’s just regular-ass horses, they’re perfectly capable of being monsters

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brotherhoodoftheslice replied to your post “another wip excerpt”

I did NOT know about the eating raw meat thing, and it literally just made my day.

I was looking up the potion toxicity stuff on the Witcher wiki [witcher.fandom.com and of course I can’t find the part where it’s mentioned] and I just saw a snippet about the gameplay that was like Geralt can hunt and eat raw meat for a stats boost and I was like hwat the fuck

and then of course I immediately was like well I have to use that because this is who I am as a person

you can tell though that I didn’t think this through until recently because I posted a chapter in Meet Death Sitting where Geralt’s talking about herbs that have vermifuge effects (deworming! something I’ve been researching in real life for organic livestock) and that’s a thing he clearly would not care about if it was irrelevant to him, but I’m leaving it in because well, maybe his teacher left it in because maybe Witchers who wind up being instructors at Kaer Morhen don’t take enough combat potions so they eventually do have to worry about parasite load, who knows.

csevet replied to your post “another wip excerpt”

b have i told you lately that i love your writing because i ADORE your writing, especially when you get to write about Gross Dead Animal Nonsense

I was just very sweetly told over chat that my #brand is that I write Hurt/Comfort For Grownups, and I was all set to really internalize that and adopt it as my personal marketing, but now I see the error of my ways and realize that it’s the Gross Dead Animal Nonsense that is the true thing that sets me apart from the many other brilliant writers of fandom.

I mean, porque no los dos, but also, I feel very seen. GUYS LET’S TALK ABOUT VISCERA GUYS

walburgablack replied to your post “another wip excerpt”

i love Jaskier so much?!

He absolutely Cannot Shut Up and I overidentify far too much

i actually did just have the thought that people probably expect me to like, mention Geralt, in the ongoing story, and I’m like oh right, but well, it might just be the Continuing Adventures of Jaskier, Underpaid Academic And Victim Of Fame

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so what i really am chewing on dealing with is the weird gross nonconnish feels about Geralt’s ill-advised wish on the djinn, to tie himself to Yennefer, which he of course did to save her, but she was at the time actively screaming that she did not want him to save her, right? anyway, i feel like that has to be addressed. Like, clearly he’s eventually punished in the narrative for that, it’s not like anybody’s arguing that he did the entirely right thing there, but now we’ve got to address it, right?

(I didn’t really catch that the first time through and so I feel sort of good about myself for being like does their relationship seem weird and super-intense and abrupt and kind of bizarrely cliched and not in line with the rest of the tone of this series on my first watchthrough, because yes, bingo, it is)

So the sequel I’m working on to Meet Death Sitting [I need a series name, any suggestions?] involves Yennefer and Jaskier, and it’ll be a bit before I can really get it worked-up so

but here’s the thing, sometimes your mind goes in cycles, and years and years ago when I was writing Silmfic a beta-reader asked me (nicely) if I had some sort of tooth fetish and I was like no? and they were like because you talk about Elves’ teeth a lot and I was like i do? and yeah, it was a weird motif in that work, unintentionally, and as i was writing this i was like what the fuck why do i always end up circling back around to ageless characters’ teeth? what the fuck.

so, enjoy some of my weirdness, since i clearly have a lot more work to do. uhh i suppose tw for animal death and intestinal parasites in the discussion? also tw for terrible banter, i can’t stop. (note: the teeth thing, I’ve made up, because of who I am as a person apparently, but the raw meat thing is absolutely video game canon and is implied in the N’flix series and since I can’t un-know that neither can you)

“It always floored me,” Yennefer said, “how disgusting he is about hygiene and yet, he’s always so careful with his teeth.”

“I don’t think his teeth heal like other parts of him,” Jaskier said. “Like, I think they’re stronger than standard human teeth, but if he gets them knocked out I don’t think they’d grow back.”

“Fair,” Yennefer said.

“Must be he’s not immune to tooth decay,” Jaskier said, “although we did determine that he doesn’t get tapeworms. Wait, don’t you know either?”

“Why would I know?” she asked.

“You’re a mage,” Jaskier said. “An Aretuza-educated mage. Their library must be– surely you know, like, everything about, uh,” he trailed off at her expression. “Magical. Stuff. Like. Like Witchers. Right?”

“Witchers are their own thing,” Yennefer said. “They don’t tell anyone their secrets. Which is why there are no more Witchers because everyone who knew what their thing was got killed so they can’t make any more.” Then she made a face. “Tapeworms?”

“You know,” Jaskier said, making a face and a nonspecific gesture. “Tapeworms.”

“I know what tapeworms are,” Yennefer said, “I grew up on a farm. What are you talking about?”

“Geralt doesn’t get tapeworms,” Jaskier said. “He figures he’s probably poisonous to them. Or all the potions he takes, anyway; no time for them to get established. He didn’t really know they were a thing until I explained them. Which is why he can just. Eat whole raw dead things and not worry about it.”

“That’s disgusting,” Yennefer said.

“You’re telling me,” Jaskier said. “He never did that in front of you?”

“No,” she said.

“Just, grabbed a rabbit, snapped its neck, ate the whole thing bones and all?” Jaskier made a vague pantomime of the neck-snapping movement and then wished he hadn’t. “Usually leaves the skin but not always.”

“That’s horrible,” she said. “What the fuck.”

“He does that all the time,” Jaskier said. “So I had to explain to him that humans can’t eat like that not only because it’s gross but also because we’d get worms and die. Do you know what kind of parasites rabbits can harbor? Well done for me, thanks.”

“That’s absolutely repulsive,” Yennefer said.

“He’ll do it with deer too but at least he has to cut them up first,” Jaskier said. “Though it’s really impressive how much of one he can just. Eat. Bones and all, it’s incredibly fucked-up.”

“Stop,” she said. “Oh my gods, stop.”

“He’s so disgusting, Yennefer, and not at all for any of the reasons people think Witchers are gross. Just, on a personal, human level, he is a repulsive person. With terrible habits.” He gestured wildly. “And I know he has to have been dialing that back for you, because he was making an effort for you, and I wonder if that was on purpose or if he felt compelled or what, but it was deeply weird to witness it and I don’t know how I feel about discovering that it was a whole bizarre djinn-inspired mindfuck.”

“And yet,” Yennefer said, “you still fucked him, of your own free will, without compulsion.”

“I wish I fucked him,” Jaskier said. “We never got to, there wasn’t any privacy.”

“Even with him eating whole rabbits right in front of you,” Yennefer said.

“Yes,” Jaskier said, defeated. “I have no standards. I can’t help it.”

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I don’t know when this bit’s getting published but I wanted to put it up because I just wrote it and liked it and I know this won’t be the pullquote when I put this chapter up because other stuff happens. Jaskier, on sort of deadnames and childhood trauma, and a parting.

Jaskier sighed. “You can write to me, if you like. Care of Oxenfurt University.”

“Should I address it to Jaskier, or?” Geralt tilted his head a little.

Jaskier made a face. “Jaskier should do it,” he said, “but.”

“Are there stuffy old fuddy-duddies who won’t call you by your stage name?” Geralt asked, one corner of his mouth tilting up.

“How did you guess,” Jaskier said. “And if one of them’s overseeing the correspondence…”

“Pancratz it is,” Geralt said. Jaskier must have made a face, because Geralt leaned forward and kissed him gently beside the mouth, quick and gone before Jaskier could react.

“J. A., to be sure of it,” Jaskier said. “There are… numerous Pancratzes about.”

“Hm,” Geralt said, and Jaskier understood that to be him emphatically not asking.

“Alfred,” Jaskier said. “That’s what the A is for.”

“Hm,” Geralt said again, looking at him under lowered brows. I wasn’t asking, plain as day. Jaskier laughed.

“I know,” he said. I know you weren’t. “It used to be a secret, who I was really, but then I wanted to publish poetry, and it just didn’t. Stay a secret.” He shrugged. “I’m over it now, Geralt. I’m old, and one can’t hold a grudge about one’s childhood forever.”

“Yes one can,” Geralt said.

“It’s not so hard to move on once they’re dead,” Jaskier said. “Once the games they were playing with you as a pawn are dissolved into gravedust, it’s possible to pick yourself up and salvage some things.” He grinned toothily. “My sister inherited while I was off pretending no one could guess who I was, and the ones who wanted it to be me have all moved on to other machinations, or died of old age. Or been murdered, probably, but as I wasn’t involved, I don’t care.”

“Is there a ballad?” Geralt asked, with another of his sardonic head-tilts.

“No,” Jaskier said, “but there is a fantastic collection of really terrible songs that were among some of my first compositions. My Father Is A Piece Of Shit was possibly the first one, but Fuck You, You Grasping Bitch, dedicated to my mother, is perhaps the pinnacle of the genre. Sometime if I’m drunk and feeling very, very poorly, I’ll treat you to a recitation.”

“Hm,” Geralt said, which was a pretty clear no, don’t do that. Jaskier laughed at him, letting the brittleness run out of him.

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Well the story is 10k words long and involves Jaskier telling Geralt either “Fuck you” or “go fuck yourself” or “tell him to go fuck himself” through a proxy, no less than thirteen times. Other instances of the word are probably mostly directed at him as well, but not directly.

Also it involves Jaskier being middle-aged and really fucking tired, in those precise terms, so it’s really a Big Mood. (Oh, I did not expect to be self-inserting in that way! Fuck you, subconscious.)

[image description: a screenshot of the find-replace window in Gdocs, showing the word “fuck” and gray text next to it indicating the highlighted instance is 1 of 44 occurrences of the word] That’s how you know it’s a good story.

Now I have to figure out what to do in the second chapter of it, because I’ve ended at an ending place but the resolution has been, well. Unsatisfactory.

two tiny snippets:

“You should run,” Geralt whispered hoarsely, after a long time.

“No,” Jaskier sighed. “This is the thing, Geralt. I’m middle-aged and tired and I just think I’d rather meet death sitting down and facing it rather than from behind while I’m running. You know?” He contemplated that a moment, and finally added, “Especially if it’s you.”

and number two:

“Fuck you,” Jaskier said, and then bit his lip very hard so he wouldn’t cry. “Fuck you for making me do this.”