#oxenfurt

[dapandapod]

Happiness suits you

Guys is it weird to base a fic around having seen too many Geralt-has-no-social-skills-and-is-forever-alone-because-of-it, and decide no, and write a Geralt-has-no-social-skills-so-litterally-every-person-decides-to-care-for-this-poor-poor-witcher fic?

Yes I rewrote that sentence six times. I just feel like people like Geralt, *beacause* he has no social skills. They see this poor little meow meow and decide that this man needs a friend. That, and also in games and comics, Geralt is just genuinly charming (and a bit of a bastard).

Thank you Jin for helping me beta read this! <3

PLease enjoy this piece of fluff and my attempt on namedropping literally anyone Geralt has had a pleasant conversation with.

Also immortal Jaskier rights. <3

On Ao3 here

Witchers come and go from the keep as they please. Sure, they tend to gather during the winter, but the gate remains open to those who know (and can get there safely) where they are. 

Snow has barely started melting, water trickling and dripping down from trees and icicles, the snow on the ground getting a crust from melting and freezing over and over again. The skies are the kind of blue it is in perfect spring days, not a cloud to be seen, the world visible for miles when you stand at a high point.

Nature is waking up, even as winter fights with tooth and claw to keep its grip over the land. Beneath the mountains, most of the snow has already turned into mud, but up here, Geralt's breath still fogs as he sighs at another one of Lambert's stupid remarks.

"I thought you didn't like to put yourself on display, pretty boy." He snarks, snow crunching under his feet, giving way for his stomping ahead. 

Geralt gives Dandelion a quick look and a shake of his head no. There are things everybody is better off Lambert not knowing. The poet just smirks and hooks a gloved finger around Geralt's pinkie.

"It is about the lodgings." Dandelion informs Lambert instead, who huffs in amusement.

"For who exactly? Because I'm pretty sure your whorehouse-"

"Cabaret," Both Geralt and Dandelion corrects.

"Sure. I'm pretty sure you can house the entire spectacle there, so I guess that makes it cost efficient. Plus, you got the entertainment covered."

"We are not saying our vows in the Passiflora." Geralt mutters.

"No room." Dandelion agrees, changing his grip to just hold Geralt's hand instead. 

It never fails, Geralt's stomach flutters at the contact and he can't help but smile warmly at his poet. In the sunshine, his golden curls peak out and through all his winter clothing and his nose is red.

Lambert snorts again and turns towards them.

"So where then? Wherever that lordling title of yours stem from?"

It is Dandelion's turn to snort. 

"Fuck no. I don't even think they remember me there anymore. My youngest sister should be what by now, fifty-eight?"

He looks at Geralt for confirmation, who just shrugs. 

"You were already old when I met you." He teases, just to hear the poet's outraged spluttering.

"You-! How dare-! Rude, Geralt! See if I will compliment your luscious rear now!"

“You have not aged a day,” Geralt amends, squeezing Dandelion’s gloved hand.

"Spare me." Lambert groans, rolling his eyes and walks ahead again. "Why won't Eskel ever join me when I check the traps?"

"Because you're a prick." Geralt reminds him calmly.

"No, Lettenhove is out of the question. And as much as I love Corvo Bianco, it is simply too far away for most of our guests. And not to mention, again, lodgings." Dandelion muses, following the movement when Geralt nudges him to the side to avoid stumbling over a branch barely hidden in the snow. 

"How many people are you expecting anyway? Is the entire continent invited or something?" Lambert asks, finding the first snare by the line of the trees. It is empty, neither hare nor bait to be seen. 

"Well, there are some acquaintances of mine who would take it poorly if they were not to get an invitation, not to mention my friends. And then there are Geralt's friends-"

"You mean all of his exes?" Lambert throws over his shoulder as he resets the trap and baits it again.

"Triss is holding the ceremony." Geralt says, pulling his poet close and wraps his arms around him when Dandelion shivers ever so slightly. 

It doesn't do much for warmth, actually, but Dandelion hugs him back and leans his head against Geralt's chest, and well, there are many ways to get warm, is there not?

"I think most of them will come. Well. Maybe not Milva, I don't think she would wander that far from Brokilon with her daughter that young still. Dandelion, I just realized we haven't started writing invitations."

"You haven't started writing invitations," Dandelion smirks, tilting his head up teasingly. "I however, have been working on them since the new year."

"So what, Passiflora can't deal with all the people from across the country to see my brother's grumpy ass be married?" Lambert asks, and stands up to brush leaves and some stubborn snow and ice from his knees.

Dandelion turns to look at him, tilting his head.

"You'd be surprised." 

Geralt spends a long few evenings writing until the candles burn low and Dandelion complains of a cold bed. 

His hand is stained with ink and his fingers are cramping, but most of the letters are finished by the end of the week. The face Lambert made when Geralt handed them over, asking him to bring it to the postmaster in the village below the mountain made it all worth it.

The rest he should be able to send out or give in person before they're due to be in Oxenfurt.

They need to be there ahead of time, making sure that the innkeepers know to keep their rooms free during those days. 

Technically, the ceremony is only the one day, but they decided that for those who traveled far, they will keep the festivities going for another day or so. At least in the Passiflora, they are not made of money. 

"Lambert, I want you to be there. You are a pest and my brother, and I want you by my side." Geralt tells him, before Lambert leaves for the path.

For a long moment, Lambert just looks at him. He may be a prick, a bastard and an ass, but there is also an honesty to him, loyal and protective and surprisingly sensitive.

"I will be there, pretty boy. It will be my honor."

Lambert pulls him into a strangely stiff hug, clasping Geralt's forearm and pressing their foreheads together. 

"Don't get eaten. Bring the Cat." Geralt mutters, before they part and Lambert climbs his horse Horse and waves them goodbye.

It would seem word has spread through Oxenfurt, and as spring shifts into summer, most of the town is decked out with ribbons and busy with preparations. 

"One could almost think it's a noble getting hitched." Dandelion observes, as they walk through the little market in the square. More stalls are being set up, goods and delicacies quickly being distributed amongst them. 

"Almost as if the Viscount de Lettenhove himself, a professor of the seven liberal arts of Oxenfurt, is about to leave the bachelor life behind." Geralt says, enjoying how Dandelion is pressing into his side.

"Almost as if the famous poet Dandelion has captured his muse, his love, his White Wolf." The poet purrs, leaning in even closer and teasing a finger along Geralt's wrist and inside his shirt.

Their walk is cut abruptly short, but the hot kisses that Dandelion presses onto his lips when they fall into bed, they linger for a long time.

  The day has finally come. 

People started trickling in during the day before, the inns, as predicted, starting to fill up. Dandelion has many friends in court, many courts actually, and their staff also requires a place to stay. 

For some reason, it was with utmost glee that Dandelion invited his nemesis and rival, Valdo Marx, to their wedding. Geralt isn't sure if he understands why, but he has been asked to be one of the performers during the feast. Of course both Essi and Priscilla will also be there, along with a skald from the Skellige Islands.

Ciri and Cerys joined them a few days earlier to help with the final preparations, along with Yennefer, Istredd, Triss and Eskel.

Lambert has yet to show up, but Geralt isn't worried. He has saved a room for him at the Passiflora, far away from their own, just to be safe. One never knows what kind of sounds comes from his room if he actually brings Aiden.

Geralt is happily surprised to see Cahir there, together with Regis and another man he doesn't recognize but is introduced to him as Detlaff van der Eretin. Not long after is he swept up in a big hug by Shani, and then a large man with a red beard pats his back, hard. Turns out that is Dudu, and his chosen shape of the day. 

More and more people, from near and far, from far past and more recent memory, trickle in through the city gates before they close for the night.

In the early morning, Lambert stands gaping with his Cat in tow, finally understanding what the fuss was about.

"Alright. Lodgings. I hope you saved us one." Lambert shrugs.

The ceremony is held in the university gardens. It was the easiest way, and most inexpensive, to bring them all together, even if some of the elder professors gave the few elves present a sharp side eye. 

There is more than one tale about the one-eyed elf who side eyed them just as sharply back. Iorwreth only stayed during the ceremony, considering he is technically a criminal still, but he left a big impression.

Triss stands in the center of it all, Geralt and Dandelion in front of her. She is holding an ancient book that looks heavier than her, and older than all three of them combined, but she holds it easily in one hand, as she guides Geralt and Dandelion through the motions.

It is hard to look away from his poet, his sunshine, the love of his life. They are clad in matching outfits, trimmed with golden edges, their hair loose around their shoulders. 

Geralt doesn't cry often, but when he had read Dandelion's vows the night before, he couldn't keep it back. Dandelion wasn't much better off when he read Geralt's, and they had spent the eve sitting back to back on their bed, sniffling and wiping away tears. 

 It helped them to get through them now, Geralt's voice thick with emotions as he reads them out loud now, in front of everybody.

Eskel subtly slips Lambert a handkerchief when Geralt has to stop and take a deep breath to go on, and Lambert takes it without a word and passes it to Aiden, refusing to wipe his own tears.

  Not all guests join them for the feasts, some of the locals have to go back to work and some with... well, a price on their head, need to get away from people.

Hjalmar comes to congratulate them, bringing greetings from Crach, who had to stay behind with his Jarl duties. Zoltan brings a gift of the finest dwarven Spirit, and a pair of silver rings.

"I know it is tradition for you to exchange rings during the handfasting, but this snotty bugger-" Zoltan points behind himself, at a somewhat younger dwarf with a very uncombed beard, "-decided not to wake up this morning. Sorry for being late."

Many old friends come up to them during the feast. Vernon Roche and Ves, Keira, Mousesack, Aiden brought a letter from Letho, who declined the invitation but appreciated it nonetheless. Vesemir held a speech that had Geralt crying again, the sorceress Corinne Tilly from Novigrad brought greetings from their Godling friend Sarah.

At the end of the night, Geralt is exhausted, well fed, and well on his way to being drunk.

The marketplace is still thriving long into the eve, many of the guests taking the opportunity to stroll around the stalls and indulging. He finds Lambert and Coën bent over a piece of paper, muttering and making notes. 

Throughout the day he could hear Lambert ask some of the guests he didn't recognize, if they were there for the groom or... the witcher.  

Most likely they are trying to see how many of Geralt's friends showed up, and honestly? Some of those who showed up were actually not invited, even if Geralt knows them. Djikstra, for example, were not on the list, but was still fully expected to show up, as is his habit.

Geralt’s knee isn’t what it used to, but he still lifts Ciri up on the dance floor, still jumps through the steps with her just to see her smile.

She is so big now, with scars of her own and powers beyond them all.

When the dance is over, he pulls her into a hug, just holds her close. They don't see each other as often anymore, with her traveling the continent, and places beyond that too, and Geralt spending more and more time at Corvo Bianco. 

"I'm so proud of you." He murmurs into her hair, kissing her forehead.

"I love you." She murmurs back. "Happiness suits you."

 When all is said and done, when the sun has set and the stars has danced across the night sky, the evening is finally coming to a close.

Despite it being their wedding night, there is not much energy left but to undress each other, kiss lazily, and drop into unconsciousness.

  Sometimes, love stories are the beginning. Sometimes, it's an end. Sometimes, you learn that your story was edged with love all the way.

  Geralt isn't sure how he managed to gather so much of it around him, despite the harsh and bloodlined life he has lived. 

He just knows he would do it all again, if it led him here.

#working title: geralt has friends - take that lambert #gerlion #the witcher #wedding #kaer morhen #oxenfurt #getting married #geralt x dandelion #idiots in love #idiots to husbands #so much fluff #fluff #dapanda writes #aiden x lambert #ciri x cerys #and many many many more

[wardrobeoftime]

The Witcher + Costumes

Yennefer of Vengerberg's purple & black cloak in Season 02, Episode 04 & 05.

#The Witcher #Witcher Universe #Yennefer of Vengerberg #costume drama #costumes #costumesource #Fantasy #1200s ACS #purple #black #Oxenfurt #Redania #Northern Kingdoms #The Continent

[0dde11eth]

Jaskier: Keep a lookout! This place is swarming with campus security, and they will not hesitate to scold us

Eskel: i've never felt more alive!

#my nonsense #jaskier #eskel #oxenfurt #cinnamon roll eskel series

[bergwerkderbilder]

Oxenfurt seen from Aeramas' Manor

endless Witcher 3 gifs

#witcher #witcher 3 #tw3 #witcheredit #the witcher #witchergif #dai's gifs #gamingedit #gamingscenery #redania #redania gif #oxenfurt #oxenfurt gif

[jaskierswolf]

Part 1 of my new Siren Superhero Jaskier AU. Influenced by Spider-Man but I made it more continent!

_

Jaskier is only sixteen and studying at Oxenfurt when the siren attacks. His class are on a school trip to the coast, looking for bardic inspiration, but Jaskier sneaks away to the caves. They look far more interesting then the glittering miles of water in front of him. Once you've seen the ocean, it all sort of starts to look the same after all. But the caves are a dangerous place to go, and he never spots the glowing eyes in the darkness... until it's too late. The siren screeches and flies straight at him. One claw slices Jaskier's side before the siren flees into the sky. Jaskier barely has time to scream before a witcher leaps from the cliff and siren's dead body falls into sea.

"Are you okay?" the witcher asks in a gruff voice, a jagged scar running from his cheek to his eye.

Looking down at his ruined shirt, Jaskier nods. The cut is long but shallow. It stings but he's had worse from bar fights. Really he just wants to get home and bathe. "Fine," he mumbles, feeling a little dizzy - the shock he assumes.

After stumbling back to the beach, he manages to slur out that he tripped and he doesn't feel well. The professor take one look at him and send him back to his dorms. The fever is already setting in by the time his face hits the pillow, not even bothering to get undressed.

Perhaps he wasn't quite as fine as he thought.

"Bollocks," he curses before passing out in his room.

_

Next

#the witcher #superhero au #oxenfurt #this will eventually be geraskier #jaskier pankratz #eskel #wolfie's witcher writing #I will probably post this in longer chapters on AO3 but I don't have spoons rn

[jonkentsglasses]

I need to ask but there is a big difference between Jaskier and Dandelion right?

I know they're the same character but the way both of them are written is very different.

Just basing this off The Last Wish but Jaskier seems more mature rhan they actually portray him in the show.

I love the headcanons and all but somehow the fandom has just compressed Jaskier into i don't really know how to explain this but something like he's a dumbass when with the witchers? I'm not quite sure but that's what I'm getting.

Jaskier studied in Oxenfurt, he's pretty smart but like the show somehow doesn't show that all that much.

idk maybe it's just me but correct if some of the stuff I've written is wrong.

#jaskier #dandelion #the witcher #the witcher books #the witcher netflix #the witcher 3 #geralt of rivia #julian alfred pankratz #oxenfurt #kaer morhen #just your daily reminder that jaskier is really smart #eskel #lambert #geralt #vesemir #yennefer of vengerberg #princess cirilla #cirilla fiona elen riannon #ciri #idk what other tags to put #correct me if im wrong #pls #henry cavill #joey batey #i love all versions of the characters i promise 😭 #dandelion the witcher #dandelion the bard

[witcheringways]

Redanian Guard in Oxenfurt

#tw3 #the witcher 3: wild hunt #witcher 3 #wiedźmin #geralt of rivia #geralt #game photography #tw3 screenshot #Oxenfurt

[cosmos-coma]

I’m making this on a hell of a headache so put whatever fave I missed in the tags

#tw3 #the witcher #the witcher 3 : wild hunt #the witcher 3 #geralt of rivia #eskel witcher #lambert #the witcher games #oxenfurt #Novigrad #kaer morhen #velen #white orchard #skellige #Ard skellige #toussaint #blood and wine #heart of stone

[astaldis]

Jaskier’s evil masterplan 😉

You can read the one-shot fic “Time to take a bath” on Ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/35880148

#jaskier #geralt #cahir #yennefer #incorrect witcher quotes #incorrect witcher #cahir x yennefer #yennefer x cahir #graskier #jaskier x geralt #the witcher season 2 #the witcher netflix #joey batey #eamon farren #anya chalotra #oxenfurt #bathtub #jaskier's evil masterplan #time to take a bath

[stromuprisahat]

Another of my favourite things about Toussaint is how you can loot right in front of ducal guards and they’re like:

Greetings, master witcher! I hope the hunt for the Beast goes well! Give duquessa my best!

All those new books for free! And material for new armour! (Yeah, and jewels aren’t half bad either- you need to pay for that arnour somehow.)

Meanwhile in Novigrad you take one (1) bottle of booze for potions and they rob you blind. Or fucking Oxenfurt with those Redanian pricks everywhere...

#The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt #Toussaint #vs. #Novigrad #Oxenfurt #V

[dapandapod]

Oh how his heart trembles

Hellllloooo Darlings!!

Times are hard! So here, please have this little fluffy piece that I finished back in.... July? And didn't post, like a bad, bad author, but here we are at long last! Thank you my darking Kuri for betareading, you mean the world and a half to me <3 Please enjoy! <3

On Ao3 here

The sky is a bleak gray, and the clouds hang heavy,ready to release the cold rain at any moment. 

Dandelion sits in the nook of his window, gazing at the busy street below. He doesn't feel like doing anything, and that thought puts a worried frown on his brow.

It is not uncommon for him to feel like this when he settles before winter, but usually it doesn't hit this hard. 

The lute lies untouched in its case, his many notebooks from the season unsorted. Even the sketchbook he is prone to falling into when everything else feels dull lies forgotten on the bookshelf.

He sighs, breath fogging up the windowpane, the glass cold against his forehead. There is no lying to himself, he knows exactly what this is.

Dandelion is homesick.

However one can be homesick for the open road and a... dear friend by his side. He sighs again, imagining how, through the fog, he can see his witcher making his way through the throng of people towards his little rented townhouse.

A glass of wine would be fantastic right about now, he thinks absently, licking his lips longingly.

There is actually a person down below that looks remarkably much like Geralt. But there are no swords on his back, and Geralt prefers his hair up unlike the man below, whose hair seems to hang loose over his shoulders. 

Dandelion loses him in the crowd, eyes darting as he searches in an attempt to soothe his aching soul, when there is a knock on the door.

What?

He is not expecting company, having secluded himself to allow this session of self pity and moping in peace. Hope runs through him, sharp and merciless, and he finds himself on his feet and down the hallway before he knows it.

When he opens the door, the universe slots into place. Geralt stands on the threshold, indeed without his swords and his hair down.

Without thinking, Dandelion throws himself forward and wraps his arms around Geralt.

"I thought you were going north?" Dandelion asks, squeezing once before pulling back. He pats Geralt's shoulder and invites him inside. "Come in, come in! Where are your swords? How is Roach? Did you wash your hair?"

Geralt smiles as Dandelion showers him with questions, stepping inside and looks around.  

"I was. At the inn, she is good, I did." Geralt says, regarding the… slight mess that currently is Dandelion's home.

The poet gets a little self conscious about it. Geralt has seen most of who Dandelion is already, but only while on the road, not in the heart of it all.

He usually rents this town house in fact, and during the summer he lets a friend stay there to keep it in order, and to collect the things he sends himself should his bags get heavy. 

It leaves everything on display, in a way. The art that Dandelion has chosen, the books he has collected. Things he has treasured enough to bring home, to keep safe.

"You kept the letter I sent," Geralt notes, lifting a parchment from his dining table. The letter is from early spring, short and precise, but oh so very Geralt, asking him if they are to meet up again. It includes retellings of small stories from the happenings within the keep that Dandelion has yet to see.

"I kept all of them," Dandelion says, walking over to his overfilled trunk, opening it and picking up a pile of envelopes. The stack is lovingly tied together with a ribbon.  

The look that Geralt gives him is fond, warm, and catches Dandelion completely off guard. It makes him stop and blink a few times; while it is not uncommon for Geralt to smile at him these days, that fondness always does a number to his heart.

"I, uh." Dandelion has to stop and clear his throat. "I kept the comb you gave me too. The one from Skellige."

"I'm glad."

They smile at each other for a moment, Dandelion still processing that Geralt is here, in his house, in Oxenfurt, and not halfway up on a mountain.

Actually, that reminds him.

"What brings you here, my friend?"

It is Geralt's turn to blink, and then he somehow looks... shy?

"I wanted to see you."

"It's only been two weeks," Dandelion quests, hope raging through him in ways he really should not allow.

"I know. But the winters are harsh in the mountains, and I know you wouldn't be happy there with no finery or comforts. I thought… maybe I could stay in the area... for a while..."

"Geralt, my dearest, oldest friend, of course you are welcome to stay! But you cannot stay in an inn, the prices here are pure theft! I have turned my guest room into a study though, so you might have to share my bed until I can clear it out and order another one."

"Or I could sleep on the floor. Or on the couch," Geralt offers and Dandelion just levels him with a look.

"The entire winter?" he deadpans, and Geralt gives a sheepish shrug.

"No, Geralt, what kind of host would I be if I let you sleep on the floor when there is a perfectly fine bed right there? How long have you paid for at the inn?"

"Just two days. In case you were otherwise occupied."                                          

'Or didn't want me here.' is left unsaid, but Dandelion hears it anyway.

"I like to keep the first few weeks after my return free at any rate," Dandelions says.

'In case you come back for me.' is left unsaid, but Geralt seems to hear it anyway. His smile widens and he reaches out to squeeze Dandelion's shoulder.

Dandelion shows him around, finding his footing again and pointing out memorabilia from their journeys together, seashells, books, trinkets, more than one a gift from Geralt.

So much of his life has been affected by the witcher. Not only his songs and poems, but his home is shaped after the life they shared on the road. 

Sure, there are many gifts from past lovers too, and from his times in different courts, but those he finds himself returning to, over and over again, are the ones shared with Geralt. He is a romantic old fool, he knows, but they are precious to him.

Outside, the heavens open up and rain comes crashing down. Dandelion finally brings out that bottle of wine he longed for, sipping on it with a grateful hum as Geralt is allowed to flip through the pages of his sketchbooks.

Geralt spends the night at the inn he paid for, and to be honest, Dandelion is miserable. Restless in his sleep, nervous about spending the winter together for the first time. 

Come morning, Geralt is on his doorstep with his bags and his swords with another sheepish smile.

"Couldn't stay away, could you?" Dandelion teases, letting Geralt inside to make himself at home. To his absolute delight, Geralt mumbles something under his breath about something that sounds suspiciously like "couldn't sleep without you," and his heart soars.

The lute sees the bleak autumn light for the first time since he stepped foot inside the walls of Oxenfurt, lazily plucking the strings as Geralt is puttering about the room.

The first night they sleep in the same bed is less tense than he expects. The bed is indeed big, so there is no trouble stretching out for either of them without accidentally touching.

Consciously, however, is another story.

They find themselves wrapped around each other in the morning, Dandelion's face pressed into Geralt's bare, pale chest. It makes him smile, because Geralt's arms are resting on the poet's shoulders, holding them close together.

Even if they both are awake, they linger. They have time.

Eventually he has classes to attend. Winter doesn't necessarily mean rest for Dandelion, earning a part of his income by refining his poetry, holding a few classes at the academy, performing at a few of the fancier inns.

But not yet.

For now, they enjoy each other's presence, spoil Roach, and escape the terrible weather that is only getting colder.

Dandelion completely forgets to clear out his guest room and order another bed, and Geralt doesn't remind him.

When the first snow falls, Geralt builds the fire in the hearth, making the room warm and toasty. Dandelion is reading out loud from a book until Geralt sits down next to him, pressing their shoulders together.

There is that smile again, that fond and warm one. Dandelion falters, the book slowly sinking to his lap as they watch each other.

He has seen that look before. But rarely on Geralt, and never directed at him.

"What is on your mind, master witcher?" Dandelion asks quietly. Geralt's eyes dips, watching the poet's lips as they move, and for a moment it seems like he is leaning closer.

"How glad I am to be here," Geralt says without looking up.

"What else?" Dandelion asks, braver than he feels. He is a poet, a master of the seven arts, a lover of love if you will. He knows the signs. He can read people like a book, speak of affection fluently in many languages, but put like this in front of him, he can only hope.

"I'm thinking about kissing you," Geralt murmurs.

Oh, how his heart trembles.

"Only thinking about it?" Dandelion breathes, allowing himself to tilt his chin up, to offer himself up, should Geralt dare what he does not.

"You have very pretty lips," Geralt replies, leaning in an inch.

It is warm, the air thick with anticipation when Geralt wets his lips and puts a rough finger under Dandelion's chin.

They come together gently.

Dandelion lets one of his hands rest on Geralt's thigh, just over his knee, and sighs into the kiss. It feels as natural as breathing, as if this is what he was meant to do, where he was meant to be.

Just one kiss, and Geralt pulls back. Dandelion picks up his book again, reading aloud for them both. His hand stays on Geralt's thigh, and the witcher's arm is now draped over his shoulders.

That night they don't even pretend to try to stay on their own side of the bed, Dandelion curling around Geralt's back and pressing a hand over his heart.

Maybe it wasn't the road he was homesick for. Even if he loves the road and the places it takes him, this is what he was longing for. 

A beloved friend, someone he holds so close to his heart there is an imprint, someone who kisses him in front of the fire just for the sake of it.

This time, Dandelion is not in a hurry for spring to come.

#gerlion #geralt x dandelion #the witcher #friends to lovers #fluff #getting together #they are in love #dapanda writes #oxenfurt #winter at oxenfurt

[wardrobeoftime]

The Witcher + Costumes

Yennefer of Vengerberg's black dress and silver bolero jacket in Season 02, Episode 03, 04 & 05.

#The Witcher #Witcher Universe #Yennefer of Vengerberg #costume drama #costumes #costumesource #Fantasy #1200s ACS #black #silver #Aretuza #Thanedd Island #Gors Velen #Temeria #Oxenfurt #Redania #Northern Kingdoms #The Continent

[this-is-not-a-slow-burn]

Telling my kids this is Prof. Rivia

#Oxenfurt #The Witcher #Jask finally convinced Geralt to retire and this is what he does now #geralt of rivia

[bergwerkderbilder]

Witcher 3 Scenery

#witcher #witcher 3 #witcheredit #the witcher #witcher palettes #velen palettes #dai's palettes #velen #gamingedit #gamingscenery #oxenfurt #redania palettes #redania

[jaskierswolf]

Most Beloved Rival

Written for @thepassifloradiscord's bards week event! Also for @d-andilion who requested Valskier and Professor for my one word prompts!

AO3

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Another summer had come and gone. The long days grew darker and shorter with each day that passed and Geralt had retreated back into the Blue Mountains. So it was time for Jaskier to return to Oxenfurt. Every year he wondered whether Geralt would invite him to the mysterious witcher keep, and every year he wondered what his answer would be. On one hand there was the opportunity for a new adventure and the chance to visit a place very few living humans had gone. On the other hand… Valdo - Jaskier’s most beloved rival. 

Marx spent the summers in Cidaris but they both held teaching positions at the university during the winter term. Every student of Oxenfurt knew of Professor Pankratz and Professor Marx’s fierce rivalry. What they didn’t know about was the tender feelings that were hidden beneath the surface. When they were students Jaskier and Valdo had dated on and off until Valdo left for Cidaris. Neither were able to commit to one another and yet they weren’t quite able to give each other up. The fights were legendary, as were the nights spent rolling around in the sheets.

And Jaskier missed him. Despite the death wishes and the snarky comments made throughout the summer months, Jaskier missed him. There was a yearning that he could never quite banish no matter how many others he slept with, or how in love he might be with Geralt. It was his curse - Valdo Marx would always hold a part of his heart and soul. 

So Jaskier spurred Pegasus on towards the city, knowing he was so nearly there and despite evening drawing in, he refused to spend another night on the path. He wanted a hot meal, a long soak, and his lover’s arms around him. If he were lucky then he’d make it in time for the faculty dinner. Valdo always did look so dashing in his teaching robes. Or perhaps Jaskier was just hot for teacher… who could say? 

Thankfully, despite Pegasus’ hatred of anything above a gentle walk, Jaskier settled his gelding in Oxenfurt’s stables with time to spare. With his lute flung over one shoulder, and his parchment tubes over the other, Jaskier ran through the cobbled streets towards the university. Once there, he barrelled through the door and ran towards the dining hall, hoping Marx would already be there doing his usual peacocking. And sure enough, as Jaskier crashed into the dining hall, there was Marx. Their eyes locked and Jaskier had to fight down a grin. 

“Julian,” Valdo sneered, his nose wrinkling. “I was just saying that I had hoped you’d fallen on your monster hunting bullshit you seem so fond of, but clearly I’m not that lucky.” 

Jaskier scoffed, rolling his eyes as he pretended that he wasn’t entirely out of breath. “Yeah well, clearly my Djinn wish didn’t go as planned either, Marx.”

“Djinn wishes? Again? Oh Julian, no wonder you need that witcher of yours. There’s simply no creativity in that pretty little head of yours.” 

“Pretty?” With a quirk of his eyebrow, Jaskier smirked at his friend. 

Valdo cursed and spun on his heels, his robes billowing out behind him as he fled the room, the dramatic bastard. Naturally Jaskier followed and no sooner had he stepped through the doors, than Valdo’s lips were on his, calloused fingers cupping his cheeks. 

Jaskier sighed into the kiss. After months apart, he was finally home.

#the witcher #valskier #valdo marx #jaskier #valdskier #jaskier pankratz #oxenfurt #wolfie's witcher writing

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#simsbuild #sims 3 build #oxenfurt #but actually... #praaven #ts3 #WIP #the witcher #witcher 3