#Well I didn't talk about life in general but moreso how it feels exactly right now | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

funkzpiel · 4 years

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I feel like at some point on the road, Jaskier would have been like, 'I thought Witchers didn't need to eat as much as ordinary folks,' and Geralt would have been like, 'Well, we can starve for a lot longer,' and Jaskier would have been kind of irrationally angry about it for a while.

More Geralt whump? Fuck yes. Thank you for the prompt, I love it.

Jaskier didn’t notice – not at first, not for a long time. Despite his frequent travels with the white wolf of Rivia, he had never even thought to ask. Something entirely unexpected for a man as chatty as himself and it would not be the first or last time Jaskier kicked himself for not noticing. He had always assumed that witchers had very slow metabolisms or some other strange mutation that allowed them to better digest and absorb nutrients and make the benefits of meals last longer. After all, Geralt rarely ate.

Perhaps ‘rarely’ was too strong a word, Jaskier admitted, but even so he could remember just as many instances in which Geralt didn’t eat as he did.

But it wasn’t until he found himself sharing a fire with the man one night that the question finally came to him. It had been a long ride with few breaks; a ride that had immediately devolved into a fierce fight with a creature Geralt had been contracted to handle, quickly followed by another rough ride when the blasted thing had managed to fly away, wounded and bleeding. Thankfully it had left quite a trial to follow, low as it had been flying and bleeding as it had been – but it meant that the two of them were running off of fumes and Jaskier, for one, was unused to it.

Well, no. Not unused to it. He had known hunger in his younger days, back when he had first left Oxenfurt to start his travels as a bard. Fame did not come without its prices – unless one had a very generous benefactor to start with, of course. And the price had been crude, cruel and simple: play for free, get his name out there, and starve until his music had the hearts of enough folk tied around his fingers that he might then play for pay. He wasn’t always hungry, of course. There had been more than one maid or village lass who had taken pity on him, in love with his blue eyes and silver tongue in that way young ladies – bored with village life – tended to sometimes be. But he had known hunger and cold.

Even though the years had been long since those meager days, even now he could not help but think ‘I remember worse hunger pains’. That didn’t mean he enjoyed it though. And if Jaskier was good at anything – singing and writing and general charisma aside – it was whining and surviving.

He plucked the fluffiest bits of his bread from within the hardened crust of the loaf he had in his pack and moaned as that first tuff nearly melted in his mouth – too stale from riding to be properly soft, but hunger had blurred that line of reasoning into something far more fantastical and pleased.

“Gods above, I love bread,” Jaskier all but moaned, slumping on his log as if the taste alone had rendered him useless. He fluttered his lashes. Geralt grunted.

“Come now, Geralt. Even you with all your witcherly stoicism can’t deny that there’s nothing quite as good as bread after days of starving,” Jaskier pointedly out, plucking another chunk of bread and placing it on his tongue with another lewd moan – now purposefully so.

Geralt rolled his eyes, face canted down toward the fire as he stoked it with a stick, ensuring that the logs lay just right for the best flame. Jaskier continued on, too merry from his meal to stay his tongue.

“Food’s always best when drunk or starving,” he mused.

He remembered lectures about that, at some point in Oxenfurt. His studies, while fundamentally focused around literature in general, had varied. A good writer needed to know a little of everything, after all, and he was nothing if not thorough when it came to his craft. He could still remember an old bore of a professor going on and on about a human’s instinct to survive and that, when starving, food was often times described by patients to be far richer or more delicious than normal – even if that food was in fact bland or stale or generally something the patient might detest in regular circumstances. The body recognizes the necessity of eating, numbs the mind of any factors that might keep them from eating, and therefore everything tastes as if it had been delivered from the heavens themselves.

“Agreed,” Geralt said, setting his stick aside to stand. Jaskier watched him with childish passivity as the witcher went to Roach, filled a feed harness with grain or whatever it was he tended to give the ol’girl, and went about attaching it to her head so she might eat – obviously reminded of the task by their conversation. Then he attended to Jaskier’s horse as well, Daisy. That made something fond prickle in Jaskier’s chest.

“It’s stale and I don’t even care,” Jaskier continued to babble, breaking the hard crust off piece by piece now as he continued to consume his meal. Geralt grunted again, crouched by his pack again, and despite Jaskier’s assumption that the man was now finally fetching his own meal, the witcher instead returned to his place at the fire with his sword, a rag and some oils – and surprisingly no whet stone.

Jaskier rose his brows.

“Really, Geralt? I know you witchers have a frankly unhealthy relationship with your swords, but it can wait. Aren’t you hungry? Tired?”

Amber eyes met his overtop the brilliant flames of their fire. They seemed paler somehow, but the fire made it quickly difficult to hold the man’s gaze; even moreso to make out fine details. Otherwise Jaskier might have seen the hollows of Geralt’s cheeks beneath his riding stubble, or the dark circles that had made a home of the space beneath his eyes. Might have noticed he was paler than usual.

But he didn’t.

“Hmm,” Geralt said, eyes dropping back to his sword as he oiled his rag and began the lengthy process of cleaning it with the meticulousness of a witcher.

That gave Jaskier pause. He had seen the man fight. Geralt had described the Churt as a young adult, even though Jaskier couldn’t have imagined a larger Churt in his life. The point being: the Churt had been no babe, and while Geralt was a witcher of immeasurable skill, the beast had done its fair share of harm in turn. With the bend of its wing it had struck such a blow on Geralt’s right shoulder blade that it had tossed the witcher across a small clearing and into a try. Jaskier hadn’t imagined the wet pop he had heard at the time, nor had he imagined the gash the thing had landed on Geralt’s thigh and hip when it swooped down from above, talons first.

Geralt had excused himself to wash the worst of the fight off in a river, leaving Jaskier to settle Roach and start the process of picking up flammable tinder for the fire – something that once upon a time, he never would have trusted the bard to do. It made a little bloom of warmth grow in his chest at the thought even as dread slowly but surely began to curl in his gut.

He hadn’t seen Geralt take any salves or wrappings to the river. And if Jaskier was tired from riding without food, he could only imagine how ravenous he might feel after riding and slaying a Churt on just as empty a stomach.

“Geralt, come on,” he repeated, the cheer he had felt from his bread now weak in his tone. “You should really eat something.”

“M’fine,” the man said, focused on his task.

Jaskier felt his brows pucker into the slightest frown and not for the first time cursed Geralt for the wrinkles he would no doubt get because of the stubborn witcher and his stupid concepts of logic and reason – aka, his utter lack of either when it came to simple matters of health, wellbeing and general comfort.

Witchers, honestly.

But not for the first time Jaskier tried to quell his sharp tongue if, for no other reason, because he himself was not a witcher and sometimes they were able to do extraordinary things due to their mutations. He tried to keep his tone light as he asked, “Are witchers able to digest their food more slowly or something?”

Geralt snorted, but under the crackle of the fire Jasker could not tell if it was the white wolf’s attempt at a chuckle or not. Jaskier plucked another bit of bread from his loaf, stuck it in his mouth and looked at the witcher pointedly – expecting a real answer.

Geralt grunted, cleared his throat in a manner Jaskier might describe as ‘uncomfortable’ in witcher-speak – a tongue of body language rather than words – and when it became obvious Jaskier would not fill the silence for him or move on, surprisingly answered.

“In a manner,” he admitted.

“In a manner,” Jaskier repeated theatrically, as if this in fact explained all the secrets of the universe, and nodded his head sagely, “Ever a man of many words you are, Geralt. In what manner?”

Geralt blew a breath through his nose in a heavy huff, his eyes darting up in that way he did whenever he was gauging whether or not something was worth sharing with Jaskier. It appeared his distate for being badgered outweighed his dislike of talking about himself, because he kept his eyes pointedly down on his sword as he said, “Mutations.”

“Ah. I see.”

Amber eyes darted to him for a fraction of a moment – almost, dare Jaskier say, nervous; but he couldn’t be certain with the firelight. No, not nervous exactly… but without a doubt Geralt was anticipating something. Bracing himself, one might say.

His sword was already positively gleaming, but the man continued to focus on it as if it were rusted. When Jaskier threw a stick at him, staring at him pointedly, mouth full of bread, Geralt sighed – haughty and on edge.

“Witchers,” he said slowly, drawing it out as if unsure of how to proceed, “Adapt easily. Our bodies can speed or slow our metabolisms as needed.”

The bread in his hands felt suddenly too rough, too heavy. He had a terrible, awful feeling he knew where this explanation was headed, but he needed to hear it. Needed to know for sure.

“Geralt,” he said just as slowly if only to show Geralt that any cheerful playfulness in him had passed and that there was no escaping this conversation now. “What precisely are you trying to tell me? That you have an on-off lever for your hunger?”

Geralt blew out a breath through his teeth that stirred his messy silver hair. It was like pulling teeth, Jaskier thought, frustrated.

“We can starve a long time before it becomes a problem,” he finally said, clinical and blunt, as if he had said something mundane like ‘witchers are more flexible than most’ rather than ‘I can suffer starvation longer than mortal men before I’ll ever die’.

“Geralt,” Jaskier snapped, unsure of what he was even trying to say. The word had slipped past his teeth in a snap, unfettered and unabashed and wholly horrified. Geralt might have flinched, it was hard to tell past the fire, and finally Jaskier had had enough of the man’s cowering. He stood and rounded the fire – loomed over the witcher – and saw the nearly feral glint of the man’s eyes as he pointedly did not look at him. Eventually, words returned to him. “Tell me this is some utterly terrible version of a witcher joke. Humor really does not suit you, you know.”

“Sure, it’s a joke,” Geralt deadpanned, something tight about the way he held his shoulders.

“Geralt!”

“What?” He finally snapped, the word nearly a hushed snarl when his eyes finally darted up to meet Jaskier’s and finally – finally – he saw it. Geralt was thin. It showed in his face, scant of even so much fat as to fill his cheeks, and from this angle the fire cast dreadful shadows in those hunger hollows.

Gods above, his gear. That’s why he hadn’t noticed, at least not yet. They had not exactly found a tavern in some time – sleeping outdoors provided little opportunity to disrobe or enjoy one another’s company in comfort. He had thought it surprising that Geralt had kept his armor on for more, if not all, of the trip. Now he knew – it was just as much a cover as the fire had been.

“Take it off,” Jaskier said.

Geralt blinked slowly, caught off guard. Slow from hunger, Jaskier realized. Something no doubt made worse by the witcher’s difficult relationship with sleep.

“What? No.”

“Geralt.”

“I already did it.”

He meant his wounds, Jaskier realized, and for some reason that made him angry.

“Another lie!” Jaskier said in an explosion of hand movement, too wound up to settle his tendency toward the theatrical as he gestured at Geralt’s shoulders – at the way he was obviously favoring one side over the other, and continued, “I saw you go to the river. You didn’t bring a single salve with you!”

Geralt rolled his eyes – not so much a dramatic gesture as it was a minute flutter of his lashes – and said, “I’m a witcher, Jaskier. It’s fine.”

He had heard the story before. Witcher, in Geralt’s mind, appeared to be synonymous with ‘immune’. But even so, the man was generally good about salving and bandaging himself. His body was, after all, his greatest tool. And yet he hadn’t this time.

“You don’t have any food, do you?” He finally accused, catching on, “Or salves? Gods above, Geralt, why did you take this contract without those things!”

“Because I needed the contract to buy those things,” Geralt said through his teeth, nearly baring them like his namesake might.

It was an argument that was quickly going nowhere, and Jaskier could not exactly pin point why exactly there was a kernel of fury growing in his stomach, searing him from the inside out in a rising tide. Instead he just made an utterly exasperated sound at Geralt, took a step forward – ignoring the tension that bloomed in Geralt’s body in reaction – and shoved the rest of his bread into the man’s hands before stomping off to his pack with a frustrated, “Why didn’t you say you utter oaf!”

Geralt’s brows shot up.

“Jaskier, I can’t,” he said, eyes on the man as he held the bread loosely, his rag haven fallen to the ground. “This is yours.”

“And now it’s yours, you bloody idiot of a witcher,” Jaskier said back just as quickly, his tone almost lilting as he fell back into the comfort of jesting words to hide the anger in his gut that made him want to – he didn’t even know! Kick a tree, maybe? Punch a man? Tie Geralt down until he understood how to better take care of himself? Yes, that one. He busied himself with digging through his own pack on Daisy. His horse whickered at him cheerfully as he shuffled things around. He found another chunk of bread – this one smaller but better than nothing. He also pulled out a tin of cured meat he kept for emergencies, as well as a leather wrapped kit – crude at best – of what scant medical supplies he had come to find necessary during his trips with Geralt. Bandages, cheap salves, thread and needles. He turned back to Geralt, his findings in either hand, and nearly barked out a laugh at the sight of the witchere. The man had never looked more uncomfortable or out of his element, staring at him like Jaskier were a lion that might make of a meal of him rather than a wispy bard with bread, meat and medical items.

“You look as if I’ve revealed myself to be another Churt in disguise,” Jaskier said, coming closer now. Geralt moved, perhaps to stand, to flee, but not quickly enough – and that, in and of itself – convicted Jaskier on his path even more. He pressed a hand onto Geralt’s knee, cautious of where he thought the man’s wounds might be, and urged him back down onto the log as he took a seat beside him.

“Surely you’ve been without coin before,” Jaskier said as he delicately places the second loaf onto the cleanest bit of bark that he could manage, then the tin and medical supplies. Geralt looked like a cornered dog but Jaskier just kept talking, as if his babbling might ease the witcher into some modicum of familiarity and comfort. “I’ve seen you hunt. So why not hunt?”

He asked even as he knew why. Geralt had already hinted at it. With a metabolism that sped and slowed as needed, it meant that his body had burned most of its energy in the fight. Now it was slowing again, drawing the warmth from his skin as his heart beat dropped to an almost unnatural rhythm. Hunting took time and energy. It meant Geralt was now in league with most wild predators – better to wait for an ample opportunity that promised success than to blindly waste it looking for an animal in the woods at night. Better to bide his time, even if that meant a gnawing stomach.

“No point right now,” Geralt said, confirming his suspicions. It was strange to simultaneously see the man as a predator and yet realize that meant that, in this moment, he was vulnerable for the very same reason that he was dangerous.

“Right, of course,” Jaskier said idly, more focused on the task at hand now that he understood the problem, “Not to rush things along because I generally prefer to take my time disrobing my partners, but let’s go, Geralt. Eat your bread, off with your armor and such.”

Geralt stiffened, then held the husk back to him with a murmured, “It’s yours. I don’t need handouts. M’fine.”

The words ‘I’m used to this, it’s not a big deal’ went unsaid – and wisely so. Jaskier might’ve given him a motherly wallop for it. Instead he shoved the bread back toward Geralt with a quick, “Yeah, well, if it’s mine then that means I can do whatever I want with it. And I want you to eat it.”

That, in combination with hunger, seemed to finally cow the witcher into some semblance of obedience. He pulled a tuff of soft, white bread flesh from its stale husk and went about eating it with far less drama than Jaskier had. But the bard didn’t miss the way the witcher’s fingers nearly – nearly – trembled. For the first time he realized the problem might be far worse than a day or two without food. There was no telling how long the witcher had gone without before Jaskier had arrived to join him on his trek.

He realized with a start that he didn’t want to know. He didn’t want to know how long Geralt could go. He’d much rather focus on ensuring he didn’t ever go that long ever again.

Jaskier pressed into Geralt’s space with long arms and clever fingers, unfastening buckles and straps around Geralt as the witcher ate. He pulled off his chest armor and had to bite his tongue not to hiss. The witcher’s shoulder was a mass of purple – masked except for where it peaked out beneath the hem of his collar, but telling nonetheless. It’d heal, Geralt always did, but it didn’t mean the man needed to suffer while he did. He tugged at Geralt’s shirt, easing it over his head as he sighed, “For a man as adept and trained for survival as you are, Geralt, you’re an astoundingly huge idiot.”

“Wow, thanks,” Geralt mused, a chuckle blurred around the edges of the words, muffled as the shirt slipped over his head and—

Jaskier had to bury his teeth into his knuckles to avoid spitting out the first, dramatic invective that sprung to his tongue. But by Melitele’s tits, the man was deceptively built looking for a man as thin as he was at the moment. With his armor on he looked like a brick wall – tall, broad and built for tasks no normal man could handle. But beneath all that, even as muscled as he was, the truth remained that the white wolf was thin as a rail almost. He tried to remember the last time he had seen the witcher, the last time they had shared a room, shared each other’s company. He was a surprisingly lithe man for someone so accustomed to a job like witchering – but he hadn’t been this thin. He must have been decently fed, last he saw him, because now Jaskier could almost swear that if he had a hand on either side of Geralt’s hips, his fingers would nearly touch. An exaggeration, and yet, he didn’t want to try in case he was right. He could see every rung of Geralt’s ribs, every knob of his spine. His stomach curved inward, even the musculature of his abdomen less prominent that he remembered. And his hips; the way they jutted even while sitting…

Gods above, how long did he starve this time?

Even faced with so much suffering, Jaskier held his tongue firmly between his teeth until he was certain he would not badger the man. Geralt knew how thin he was. There was a reason why he had kept his armor on with Jaskier. He had known the bard would fret. He had tried to hide it. Hounding him now wouldn’t reverse the effects of Geralt’s stint with hunger – but it would drive the wolf away, keen as he was to avoid confrontation and care like a Labrador unwilling to be bathed.

“You put even my boyish figure to shame, Geralt. Going after my job, are we?” He joked because he couldn’t bare the silence. If it were silent for so much as a moment longer he’d babble. He’d babble, and that would devolve to nagging, and he needed the witcher to sit still, to trust him. To finally, finally allow someone to care for him despite his conceptions about what was or was not his, and how far he could push the limit of witcher mutations before he pushed too far. Geralt snorted, back shivering like a horse shoeing flies when Jaskier ran two fingers lightly over his bruising. It was swollen, puffy; hot to the touch. Dark as pitch, made worse by the flickering light of the fire. He opened one jar of salve, coated a few fingers liberally, then went about rubbing it into the man’s skin as gently as possible while still working it in to the muscle and damage before. Geralt moaned – Jaskier couldn’t tell if it were pain or relief, but he continued regardless.

“Hardly about to start singing in pubs,” Geralt mused, evidently just as eager to settle back into some semblance of normalcy. Unused to being the one being taken care of rather than doing the protecting. It rankled him something fierce, muscles tight under Jaskier’s hands.

“Yes, well, maybe you should consider it,” Jaskier said lightly, dipping his fingers back into the jar for more, “With a voice like yours, you’d be quite exotic for the trade. Women would swoon at your feet – if you can hold a tune, of course, very important. Pubs tend to feed their bards. Pay’s good, too. Better than…” he trailed off. It felt too raw, too cruel to take a shot at Geralt’s profession now when the wolf was so bare and vulnerable. Here Jaskier had taken his armor and his wrappings, both physical and metaphorically, and exposed the witcher for what he was: mortal, self-abused and exhausted. To go on felt like a moot point, like kicking a man while he’s down. It felt wrong to acknowledge once more that witchering was a thankless trade. Painful, even, when Jaskier knew Geralt risked his life often, protected thankless assholes that tried to fleece him often – and he starved himself to do it, too.

Geralt made a sound Jaskier couldn’t quite navigate.

“Eat the meat in the tin as well,” Jaskier guided the conversation away, tone light despite the way his breath hitched in his chest seeing Geralt like this.

“Jaskier, this isn’t necessary—”

Jaskier’s hands drew still on Geralt’s back. Something swollen twisted his chest and throat into something thin and strained as he said, “Please, Geralt… if for no other reason than to appease me. I may not have a witcher’s metabolism, but I’m tired as well.”

The tin squealed lightly when Geralt opened it. The same of dried pork wafted up lightly – stronger when Geralt took a slice and held it over his shoulder with a gruff, “At least eat some, too.”

Jaskier would have laughed if the whole situation wasn’t so fucked up. Instead he just hummed a pleased, “How thoughtful,” and took the morsel directly from Geralt’s fingers with his mouth, unwilling to touch it with his salve-greasy fingers. Geralt was more comfortable with that gesture than being taken care of, and Jaskier decided then and there that he’d have to work on that.

Geralt ate the jerky and Jaskier sent a quick halfhearted prayer of thanks to the gods on the off chance they were real even though he was pretty sure they weren’t and mainly enjoyed referencing them for how colorful they made his curses. Once the worst of Geralt’s shoulder was handled, he ran a hand over the rungs of his ribs down to the – sharp, too sharp – jut of his hip and asked, “Did you actually attend to those gashes or do I need to strip you completely?”

“They were shallow enough. Nearly healed,” Geralt grunted around a strip of meat. Jaskier looked at him pointedly, brows raised, and Geralt offered a grumbly, “Truly. It’s fine.”

Jaskier waited another beat for added affect before capping the jar with a soft, “Alright, Geralt. I trust you. But if they’re not gone in the morning, please put salve on them?”

Geralt grunted at that, and Jaskier took that as a sign of victory.

Much of the tension had eased from Geralt’s shoulders now, but there was still a great deal of exhaustion under his eyes and in the shadows of his cheeks. Jaskier wiped his hands clean on a rag, watching the witcher eat with a strange fondness in his gut he couldn’t quite name. He was unused to this, he realized. Not just with Geralt, but in general. In brothels or taverns or even with the witcher, his relationships had been centered around passion and drive. The need to fulfill his desires with lips and fingers and teeth. He had shared meals and treats after with maidens and men alike, of course, and had even himself been cared for some. But had never really done the caring himself and mostly certainly not in a context as benign as this. He had never felt the urge to. No one ever stuck around, after all, and both parties were only ever fulfilling the same selfish desires only…

This was difficult. Geralt was different. Jaskier wanted to help. They wouldn’t lay together, not tonight. There was no ulterior motive, no benefit other than… Well, other than Geralt’s comfort and safety. Jaskier’s hands stilled in his rag, gaze caught a bit wide-eyed on the snacking witcher when suddenly Geralt’s own amber eyes lazily caught his, no longer as edgey as he had been.

“What?” The witcher asked, the idiot.

“Nothing,” Jaskier chirped quickly, eager to cover the sudden revelation before he had time to properly turn it over in his mind and understand it. He tossed the rag at his pack and for once he was the one avoiding the witcher’s gaze as he said, “I was merely thinking about how lucky you are to have such a handsome and selfless friend such as me. Talented, charming and capable in the woods – you were born beneath a lucky star to have met me. What would you do without me?”

Geralt snorted again and that, Jaskier could tell, was a laugh. He grinned in return, back on familiar footing, and came to sit thigh to thigh with his witcher. Geralt hummed, curiously close to a cat’s purr, and Jaskier had the oddest urge to run his fingers through the man’s hair just to hear more of that sound.

“Starve a little longer, I suppose,” Geralt said, playfulness dulled by the truth in it. Blunt, daft ass of a man. Jaskier stretched his legs before him, forced himself not to go off on another tirade unless the witcher – too used to doing things only on his own terms – shut down after all the work the bard had done to loosen him up that evening.

“Yes, well, from now on what’s mine is yours, Geralt. I’ll pack accordingly.”

Geralt stilled.

“—Jaskier, you needn’t trouble—”

“If you’re starving you can hardly protect me or perform those heroic acts of inhuman deeds I do so love to sing and profit off of, can you? Consider it your cut in the fame you’ve brought me with your witchering,” Jaskier said cheekily, eager to cover his own vulnerabilities like the coward and hypocrite that he was. Something stole across Geralt’s face, something unidentifiable, and Jaskier felt his gut curl ever so slightly.

“Of course,” Geralt said. Jaskier felt the slightest bit of distance grow between them suddenly, their comradery turning the littlest bit stale. Guilt stabbed him lightly. The fire crackled. “That is why you come, isn’t it.”

It almost… almost seemed as though Geralt was disappointed by that – mildly, as witchers tended to be, and yet more poignantly because of that.

Well… he had stripped Geralt of his manly pride, his clothing and his illusions of not being a twig. The least Jaskier could do was offer some boon in turn. Even the playing field, so to speak.

He sucked in a breath, let it go slowly, catching Geralt’s attention because of it.

“It started that way, yes. Though not wholly for the stories or the songs… But now… Geralt, I would follow you even if there were no story to sing about in some pub,” he admitted. “If one of our trips just comprised of us dozing under willows by the river, I’d join you. I’d keep the songs just for myself. Sing them to you. Maybe it’d help you sleep.”

Geralt watched him for a long time. Jaskier began to fidget, his neck burning and no doubt red as the silence made his words sound more and more ridiculous. He was just about to say, ‘forget it, I’m just daft with exhaustion, you know how it goes,’ when finally, Geralt spoke.

“What would you sing about then,” Geralt asked slowly, carefully, “If not about whatever I killed?”

Geralt was staring at him, his face a blank sheet, and Jaskier felt prickly all of sudden, frustrated that the witcher could so easily hide while he was weak to expressing himself at the drop of a hat. But the moment felt important to Geralt regardless, somehow the bard could just tell. Perhaps it was his increasing fluency in the wordless speak of witchers. The worst of that dazed, hollow hunger-glaze had retreated from those amber eyes. Still there around the edges, but otherwise focused on him in a manner Geralt rarely allowed himself to do.

“I’d have plenty to sing about,” Jaskier said softly, his protective, charming mannerisms falling away layer by layer under those eyes. “I’d love nothing more than to sing about the white wolf finally enjoying himself for a moment – even if that moment were as benign as enjoying an apple freshly plucked from the tree. Even if it detailed only the litany of your snoring or the way the wind dances in your ridiculously white hair.”

Geralt snorted, a wry twist of amusement to his lips as he looked out into the night and said, “Enough. I’m not one of your conquests from some backwater village or high court function. Stop blowing smoke up my ass.”

He should joke. It was his cue to joke. Geralt was offering him an out. He should joke.

“I could sing even about this,” he said instead, his eyes traveling to the dark bloom on Geralt’s back – proof of his mortality despite the legends Jaskier had hand in crafting.

“Some song that would be,” Geralt grunted, “No one wants to hear about a half-starved witcher. Sour the mood immediately.”

“Don’t be so shallow, you’re cleverer than that,” Jaskier chided.

“I’m daft, I’m clever – which is it?”

“Believe me, the contradiction frustrates the hell out of me too, witcher,” Jaskier chuckled, the littlest bit of a frustrated grumble in the tone as he leaned in, crowding the man. “But I stand by it. Perhaps that should be the next song I sing: how to take care of your witcher. Help some other fool bard out there who also fell head over heels for their witcher.”

“Your witcher?” Geralt asked, brows raised.

“Ears like yours, I know you heard me, Geralt. A mouse farts and you wake up. Don’t play coy with me.”

Geralt actually let out a soft huff of a laugh at that.

“How to care for your witcher… you think you know how?” He mused, too weary to fight or snap, it would seem – made soft by the salve and Jaskier’s hands. Steadier than the witcher from those early days, so skittish and closed off.

“You’re still here, aren’t you?” Jaskier said, puffing up, proud. Geralt shook his head, exasperated, and Jaskier pressed, “I’ll start with feeding you properly, since you can’t be trusted to make sane choices. And anything after that, well… I’ll learn as I go!”

And that was as close to saying ‘I love you’ as he could get for now. The witcher too easily spooked, and he himself unfamiliar with this version of himself that loved beyond the first fuck. It wasn’t ‘I love you’, not yet. But if the witcher could show him his wounds, trust him with his back, well…

They were both learning as they went.

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #gaskier #food deprivation/starvation #witcher biology shit #no beta we die like men #whump #prompt #witcher writing

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punkscowardschampions · 4 years

Text

Ava & Grace

Ava: Hey Grace: 👋 Ava: How'd it go with gym boy? Grace: 🤞 he's got the hint 👻 Ava: That good, huh Ava: how about the rest, you know, not boys? Grace: we so aren't here to talk about me Ava: Come on Ava: Give me some normal conversation right now Grace: !!!!!!!!! Grace: 100% not gonna be that bitch, talk to ME about what's going on in your oh so dramatic life! Grace: are you okay? Ava: Okay, okay Ava: I'll just come out with it Ava: no sugarcoating Grace: Duh 🚫🍫🍬🍭 Grace: it's not a cheat day Ava: 🤫🤫🤫 Ava: You wanna hear this hot, hot tea or nah Grace: obvs Ava: You'll be the least surprised so there's that Grace: 🚫😱😱😱 Ava: You know when you came here and then married guy couldn't come and then everything fizzled out? Ava: well, it actually did, for nearly a month Ava: but then he came back Grace: OMG Grace: it's literally the MOST 💖📽🎞 like FORGET before Ava: It really was Ava: remember when I got hit by that cyclist? Grace: that was so wild! OH was he the 🚴??? Ava: 😂 Ava: Imagine Grace: your otp Ava: But no, my parents were out of town Ava: and he came to the hospital, to make sure I was okay Ava: and he took me home and looked after me Grace: I'm like about to cry???!!! that's so Grace: 😍😍 Ava: Me too Ava: and of course, I had to go on Holiday like immediately after so that was shit but since then we've been talking and Ava: he's divorcing his wife Grace: I TOLD YOU HE WAS PURE Ava: I know Ava: and I'm sorry I had to kinda lie to you Ava: but I accidentally let slip I had talked to you and he freaked and that's why he first left so Grace: Oh please, if I filmed a storytime about this ALL the comments would be calling me out as #fake Grace: I get it Ava: It does sound pretty unbelievable Ava: even more so if I actually tell you who he is Grace: are you GOING TO???!! 😱😱😱 Ava: May as well, I've had to tell Nancy Ava: Parents and Buster to go Grace: Ugh! so sorry babes Ava: I couldn't tell you before 'cos they kinda know him Ava: knew him Ava: he was one of Buster's friends from School Ava: and his crazy wife is the main girl who bullied Nancy so Ava: that was fun Grace: Really?! wtf Grace: Chelsea is like Grace: so weirdly small Ava: That's why we call 'em villages, even though you're in a big city, the actual communities are ridiculously close-knit, for better and worse Ava: oh and Ava: make it weirder still Ava: you remember that boy from my party, Teddy? Grace: UM obvs I never forget a 💋 Ava: Well, that's his brother Grace: !!!!!!!!!!!!! Grace: do they look alike cos 🧸 is 😍😍 like 🙏🙏 Ava: Kinda Ava: [sends a cute photo he would've been able to send to the fake profile] Grace: oh Grace: my Grace: god Ava: I know Ava: 😩😍 Grace: did he edit his 👀??! I'm so shook 💙 Ava: No, I've seen them up close Ava: they're actually that unreal Grace: I can't even Ava: Guess what Grace: ?? Ava: He said he loves me Grace: NO WAY Grace: 😭😭😭😭 Ava: I know, I know Ava: I can't even Grace: so are you like a thing™ now? Ava: Yeah Ava: that's why I'm telling everyone Grace: Your parents are gonna be so Ava: Ugh Ava: it's going to be a whole thing Ava: with all of them Grace: mhhmmm Grace: like I feel like I know the answer but how did Nancy take it?? Ava: She just Ava: does my head in at the best of times and this was no exception, sadly Grace: at least Buster can't be telling ANYONE how to live their lives Grace: especially 😍💖 Ava: Watch him try though Ava: I'm expecting it though, they'll have to get over it on their own time Grace: 🙄 Grace: I feel that, Ri always thinks she can tell me something Ava: It's so Grace: IKR Grace: full offense babes I'm gonna listen to Janis before you & like no Ava: It's gonna be hellish but they can't do anything about it Grace: 🙏💜🤞 Ava: unless they do in which case bye and feel free to go through my wardrobe 🤷 Grace: duh Grace: but watch me also take your man Ava: 😏 cheek Grace: my crazy would look 😇 next to his ex's Grace: love that for me Ava: 'Til I haunt you crazier Grace: so scared obvs Ava: 😒 Ava: I only just got him, you can't be stealing him Grace: so sorry but like gotta get the full set on that fam now Ava: You better 🙏 my parents take it that personal Grace: 😇🙏💜 Grace: Jesus is totally my bae so Ava: and God's favourite son Ava: leave mine alone 😉 Grace: 😂😂 Ava: So you're not mad at me now, yeah? Grace: lowkey 💔 but not mad Ava: awh please Grace: ILY bitch you know it Ava: ily too 💙 Grace: & now I don't have to 👻💔 his brother so Grace: no way he'll be hitting me up after this Ava: Oh yeah, you're welcome for doing your dirtywork Grace: 💜😂💜 Ava: Has he hit you up then? 👀 Grace: 🤐🤐🤐 Ava: After I just poured my heart out? Ava: Rudeness Grace: you're in a 📽🎞💖 I'm in a 📽🎞😱 starring my crazy Ava: Girl, please Grace: I'm so serious Grace: & so over it Ava: You're not crazy Grace: I'm not not Grace: ask gym boy, but like don't Ava: I'm not gonna sleuth on you, don't worry Grace: if you had you'd see 🧸 on my pics hitting the 💜 Ava: Cute Ava: he must like you or he'd air you Ava: it's not unheard of Grace: like I said, thanks for putting that work in for me babes Ava: 😒 why not talk to him Ava: you don't have to see him 24/7 Grace: well duh I'm not about to move in with you Grace: but that's not why I can't Ava: ? Grace: he's like Grace: & I'm like Grace: It's not gonna be a thing Ava: You can't be friends? Grace: 😂😂 no Grace: that's as terrifying OMG Ava: 🙄 he is NOT scary Ava: though he is gonna hate me now probably so loyalties Grace: UM yeah he is Grace: he's nice & so I'm scared of him Grace: @ gym boy too Ava: 🤔 Grace: ugh whatever Ava: You're a nice person, you should hang with other nice people Grace: 🙄🙄 Grace: I've got friends he doesn't need to be one Ava: Okay Ava: not my otp, not gonna push that hard Grace: or ours its fine Grace: he won't be 😭😭😭 Ava: 'Course Ava: gonna have bigger problems to deal with, lbr Ava: 😬 Grace: yeah exactly Grace: maybe we can bond when the wife murders you but like Grace: black isn't my fave tbh can't 🤞 I'll serve my best look Ava: Funny 😏 Ava: she's actually 'out of the country' rn so you should probably watch your back 🔪🔪 Grace: you're so not gonna come visit me now you're 😍😍😍 are you? Grace: are you even doing holiday 2? Ava: time is getting away from us Ava: summer holiday standard Ava: it lowkey has not been organized so god knows now, I wouldn't be mad if it didn't but I wouldn't not go, I guess Grace: depends how they take your homewrecker status Ava: Yep, cheers 👍 Grace: people are shady Ava: Sure Ava: but my actual friend friends will know what's up Ava: everyone else chats about us anyway Grace: true Grace: shoutout to the fam for that one Ava: at least this one is something I actually did so Ava: oh well Grace: anyone who has a clue about his ex will know it's not even you Grace: like sorry hun you killed that 💍 yourself Ava: I'm not too fussed, it's my last year 💁 Grace: #priorities Ava: Exactly Grace: still so triggered by the idea of going back though thanks Grace: school is the WORST Ava: tell me about it Ava: won't miss that place Ava: Chelsea in general moreso but it isn't like I'll be a million miles away Grace: unlike me always a ✈ away Ava: Do you reckon you'll stay in Dublin? Grace: I guess Grace: where else would I go? Ava: You aren't going to make like Billie and Nancy and bounce then? Grace: being a or sleeping with models isn't very likely for me, babes Ava: Models are usually weird looking anyways Ava: oops accidental shade at your sister 🙊 Ava: don't tell Grace: thanks? I think Grace: shade her all you want, I'm about it Ava: How many times have you seen her kid? Grace: Like none Grace: we might get christmas but Ava: this family is messy Ava: watch me get lectured like it ain't Grace: preach Grace: maybe I shouldn't stay here Ava: you could stay or go wherever Ava: everywhere needs beauticians Grace: not Chelsea though, I'd run into your boyfriend's wife Grace: obvs can't escape anyone there Ava: 😂 truly Ava: I don't wanna be far away from the fam Ava: cracked as they are Ava: but that's just me Ava: I guess it isn't automatically selfish to move yourself halfway 'cross the globe hmm Grace: same though, I even miss Junie & like ?? why Grace: never saw him when we lived in the same house Ava: yeah Ava: that whole situation still fucks me off I Ava: idk Ava: I know it's not the kid's fault but I can barely even look at pictures of her Grace: Ri never should've done it Grace: like he didn't need a kid that bad Grace: obvs he didn't actually need one at all but nobody NEEDS one Ava: If they'd been together any amount of time Ava: Junior wasn't 20 fucking years old Ava: it was really stupid Ava: Buster said but oh well Grace: Demi is so Grace: I can't Ava: This family can't seem to help but add more fucked up people into its sphere Ava: like Ro hadn't just brought Drew back, AGAIN Grace: Getting pregnant by accident is one thing, like it's stupid but okay Grace: they planned that Ava: This family has way too many baby hangups dating back to nan Ava: can't blame her for all of this but break the cycle, someone, damn Grace: literally had my contraception on 🔒 since I was 13 thank you Ava: 'Accident' is some bullshit 9/10 times tbh Ava: you knew it was a matter of time, even if you don't know you knew it Grace: @ my mum & dad so hard Ava: and mine, they say the twins were an accident but they probably would've broke up if they hadn't have had them at that time so Grace: mhmmm Ava: ugh Ava: I'm just heated knowing how hard I'm gonna have to defend this Ava: like I've got myself pregnant Grace: don't even joke, she trapped that poor boy so hard like Ava: seriously, he probably never wants kids again Ava: not that I've asked because it's been like a month or so and I'm not psychotic, thanks Grace: do you? not now obvs Ava: I don't know Ava: like, don't tell my mother but I don't actually meticulously plan every aspect of my life Ava: if I ended up at a place and time in my life where it felt right, I could see it Ava: but if I ended up living a different life where they wouldn't fit, I wouldn't and I wouldn't be 💔 about that Grace: 😂🤐 Ava: Do you? Grace: girl, I'm too freaked out to let a boy date me, I don't think it's gonna happen Ava: you won't be 16 forever Ava: and if Ro can manage it Ava: your mum and Drew are probably the only people to see her vaguely undressed in her life Grace: idk sometimes it's all I want & sometimes it's the WORST thing I could think of Ava: I get that Ava: I don't think its a thing you can overthink, 'cos it's not usually right or wrong Ava: so people just do it and have to deal, better or worse Grace: Yeah Grace: maybe I'll get like that with dating Grace: or you know, get so lonely that I won't care that people always leave Ava: 😔 Ava: You'll get there, whether there is living your best life with or without Ava: I'm defs getting left after this fiasco so I'll come 😭 to you in a few no doubt Ava: we're walking Frank rn, so gonna enjoy this whilst it lasts 👌🥰 Grace: UM no! He LOVES you remember, you'll come at me with your 😍 more like Ava: 🤞🤞 Grace: 🙏💜

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anonymoustalks · 4 years

Text

I told my husband I felt neglected and tempted to cheat, and he didn't care

(7-3-20) You both like conversation.

You: heya

Stranger: Hiya

You: how's your day?

Stranger: Going ok. Slow. You?

You: I have to go to work in like half an hour

You: I spent my morning reading about the epstein case

Stranger: I'm glad they finally got her

You: one of the victim's memoirs

You: yeah

Stranger: I see

You: it's really jarring to read

You: or well, heavy

Stranger: Yeah. I watched the documentary on Netflix. But it's so much bigger than just them

You: mhm

You: I think for me, as I was reading, it feel like I saw familiar patterns in it, which felt kind of creepy

Stranger: The documentary was unimpressive. Almost like it was covering for the larger conspiracy.

Stranger: Familiar to what?

You: in the sense that I feel like I know certain people like either the victim or the abusers or others

Stranger: I understand. With similar stories.

You: well my uncle has like this company and has a lot of money

You: growing up he had like three houses, a boat

You: and some of his demeanor just seemed familiar to like the way many of the ppl epstein affiliated himself with

You: kind of like the ego/bravado-ness that is kind of trump-y

Stranger: Oof, that's a scary realization

You: a lot of the victims also had really heavy family stories or backgrounds

Stranger: Yeah, that's who they prey upon. Vulnerable.

You: and then I started thinking about some people I met online with heavy histories

You: yeah

Stranger: I see

You: like I have one online friend who just can't stop dating people

You: who honestly aren't good for her

Stranger: Sounds like daddy issues

You: yeah idk

You: I don't always know what's going on with people

You: but it sounds worrisome

Stranger: Yeah. People hide things well.

You: yeah

Stranger: You sound like a good friend, though

You: well, idk

You: yes and no in the sense that I ghosted her from time to time

You: it's just so much to handle

Stranger: I understand

You: like she's a drama magnet

Stranger: Yeah, I have an aversion to those

You: mhm my life is really simple in comparison

You: or well, it's so strange to wrap my head around all this drama that people get into

Stranger: Yeah, it's fascinating to people who live pretty straightforward lives

You: mhm do you go through much drama?

Stranger: I'm not a dramatic person, no. I have zero conflict with friends.

Stranger: But my marriage is very dramatic.

You: ahh... I'm sorry to hear that

Stranger: Lol it's fine

You: would it be prying to ask?

Stranger: Nope. Otherwise I wouldn't have brought it up

Stranger: I got married really young, at 19.

Stranger: We're just very different. He's pretty broken and addicted to pc gaming.

Stranger: Ignores me.

You: ahh :c

Stranger: So I come on here for connection I guess?

Stranger: It's not that dramatic lol.

You: it's just sad I guess

Stranger: And you? Simple life then?

You: well, I have marriage-related complications too I guess

You: although I'm not married

You: just engaged

You: although I feel like I've been delaying the topic of marriage

Stranger: I see. If it's complicated, you should end it, tbh.

You: or I'm not mentally there or something

You: well, it's not altogether that bad

Stranger: That's really selling it, lol

You: like my partner is wonderful in every way

Stranger: Oh

You: I have like lgbt complications of various sorts which makes it feel vaguely complicated for me

Stranger: You're wondering if there's something better?

You: well, not exactly that; I think my fiancee is amazing and we have a really great relationship in terms of companionship

Stranger: Ah, sexually?

You: I think that's where things are a little weirder, yes

You: I mean, we're totally clear and transparent about this

You: but I think it just keeps popping up in my mind from time to time

Stranger: Hmm,that's tough

You: like we trust each other totally and love each other in all of those ways

You: it's just that sex is challenging lol

Stranger: As in your sex isn't great?

You: mhmm... I just don't have much interest in it, I guess?

Stranger: Because of your partner's gender? Or your partner themself?

You: I think maybe it's my gender moreso than theirs idk

You: I think I'm in general just not very interested in women

You: but I feel like my connection with my partner is way more than on a sexual level

Stranger: You're going to suffer if you marry her though

Stranger: Sounds like a friend.

You: I mean I've never dated any guys lol

You: and I'm not sure if I want to

You: we've been together for 8 years lol

Stranger: Is she aware of this?

You: and we finally got engaged last year

You: yup!

Stranger: Well,it's good you're so honest

Stranger: And if she's not scared and trusts you, that's great

You: it's kind of like this hard spot where it feels like we're mutually dependent on each other

You: like it feels too scary for either of us to let go, I guess

Stranger: I understand that

You: and I don't think I want to

Stranger: I wouldn't get married unless I was over the moon about it though.

Stranger: You'll cheat eventually

You: mhm

Stranger: I went ahead and married even with red flags

Stranger: And I 100% regret it

You: I see

Stranger: But I shouldn't project my issues on you

You: it feels like time is slipping away for me

Stranger: How old are you?

You: like I guess in a sense we delayed for so long because we weren't sure

You: I'm 26 she's 28

Stranger: I see. Not that old yet. But I understand. It's really tough to detach after 8 yrs. I'm sorry.

You: yeah

You: or well, I feel like I'm the kind of person who would just sort of carry on with the status quo

You: like we're both very happy cohabitating

Stranger: It's comfortable and you know each other.

You: and then I feel like next thing I know it it's going to be like 10 years lol

Stranger: Yeah

Stranger: I've been with someone online for 2 yrs now

Stranger: I'm cheating

You: ohh interesting

You: yeah I can understand

Stranger: And it's like night and day. Of course, it's semi fantasy and I don't have to deal with the day to day problems with him.

Stranger: But I'm experiencing what it's like to truly admire, respect and love someone

You: mhm

Stranger: And to be excited

You: right

Stranger: So I can only offer my experience. But I would really think about it.

You: yeah, thank you for sharing

Stranger: She seems like a really good person. So I understand the conflict.

Stranger: I told my husband I felt neglected and tempted to cheat, and he didn't care. So it's a different boat.

You: ahh :c

Stranger: I wish you the best though. You should stay away from drama friend though. Those people just suck nice people like you into their black holes.

You: aww haha okay

You: yeah and i wish you the best too

You: I guess it's close to my half hour

You: so it was nice talking!

Stranger: Thanks. Have a good day at work!

Stranger: Bye

You: bye!

You have disconnected.

#omegle #conversation #marriage #epstein #cheating #affair #lgbt

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