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62 One taking a photo of the other, feel free to change photo to painting.

62. One taking a photo of drawing the other

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happy birthday!! hope you have the best day!! 🎉 for the prompts: wrapping arms around your lover and kissing them and resting foreheads together for a ship of your choice? 💛

Thank you so much! He’s some Geraskefer with a focus on Yennskier

***

Jaskier is used to the seemingly endless waits for Geralt to return from a hunt. When he first started traveling with the witcher, he fretted whenever Geralt was gone for more than a couple of hours. More than once, he went to search for him and walked right into the middle of a battle. But now it’s been seventeen years and Jaskier knows that Geralt is usually just a bit too optimistic about how long a hunt will take (the only thing his witcher is ever optimistic about.) If he says he won’t be back until morning, he won’t be back until late morning or early afternoon.

Yennefer, though, has only known them for a year and is decidedly not used to waiting for Geralt’s hunts to be over. She won’t admit to being worried— Yennefer of Vengerberg would never admit to such a plebian emotion— but she kept Jaskier up all night with her tossing and turning. And now that it’s mid-morning and Geralt still hasn’t returned, she won’t stop moving. She’s paced around their tiny room so many times, Jaskier is fairly sure she’s going to wear down the floorboards.

“Yenn, it’s a fiend,” he tells her, not for the first time. “Tracking them takes a while. He’ll be back soon.”

“He said they were dangerous,” she says tightly.

Jaskier nods, conceding the point. “Everything he hunts is dangerous.”

“We should go look for him.”

“Not a good idea.”

“When do you ever care if something’s a good idea?”

Jaskier pushes away his songbook and stands up. It’s impossible to get any writing done with all the pacing anyway. As soon as her path around the room brings her within reach, he captures her by the hand and pulls her into his arms, bending down so he can lean his forehead against hers. “He’s going to be fine. He does this for a living.”

Yennefer lets out a slow breath. “Do you ever get used to it?”

“The worrying? Not really. I never used to sleep when he was out on hunts. Had to get over that real fast, or I never would have ever gotten any sleep again.” He brushes a kiss across her lips. “If he’s not back by nightfall, we’ll go to look for him. Any earlier than that, and there’s a good chance we’ll get trampled by a fiend and then Geralt will be cross.”

She sniffs. “I will not get trampled by a fiend.”

“Don’t be so cocky. You’ve never seen a fiend before. They’re very large and like chasing after shiny things, like bards and sorceresses.” Jaskier shudders theatrically, which draws a smile from her.

Yennefer tilts her head up to kiss him, just as familiar footsteps sound in the hallway outside. After all these years, Jaskier could recognize their witcher’s tread anywhere.

“Geralt’s back,” he tells her, just as the door opens.

Prompt fills

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comm for @zagubionywilk who lets me draw various witchers, sorceresses and bards happy <3

#THEM <3

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“Good news! The tavern keep has given me leave to exercise my craft in her glorious establishment. No, don’t say it!” Jaskier held his hand up to Geralt’s mouth, might have pressed his fingertips to Geralt’s lips if Geralt hadn’t grabbed his wrist. 

Geralt glared. 

A pair of barmaids in the corner tittered. Strange. They had tensed up and gone quiet when Geralt and Jaskier had come in, as people usually did when they encountered a Witcher. 

“Performers are superstitious about being wished good luck,” Jaskier explained, seeming unbothered by Geralt’s thumb pressing against the soft skin and the delicate tendons beneath his palm, by Geralt’s callused fingers curving tightly around his carpals.   

Geralt could break Jaskier’s wrist with an easy change of an angle, the kind of mathematics that didn’t get taught at Oxenfurt. He lowered his hand. “Wasn’t going to,” he said. 

Jaskier’s eyes narrowed. “Because you are absolutely confident in my success, as a friend should be, of course, and you know that I have no need of luck. Right? Right, Geralt?” 

It was his third time hearing Jaskier sing. Jaskier currently had a fifty-fifty rate of being told to abort himself on stage, he was idiot enough to call a Witcher his friend, and he was delusional enough to think that they’d be traveling together for much longer. “Hmm,” Geralt said. 

“Are you skeptical? Was that a sound of disbelief I hear? Surely a Witcher who has the ears and eyes of a wolf can appreciate,” Jaskier gestured to himself, “all of this?” 

The opening was too good to remain silent. “All of what?” Geralt asked, deadpan.

The barmaids laughed a little more openly now, and Geralt even caught some grins from other patrons in his peripheral vision.

Jaskier winked at him. “I’ll show you all of what, never fear!” he said, and he bounced to an empty table and strummed his lute. 

He sang songs, starting with “Toss a Coin.” He flattered specific patrons in the audience. And when the tavern-goers started to flag, he made his way over to Geralt with a line that was easy to reply to. 

“Now you have heard me, friend White Wolf! Which do you think I sound more like, the lark or the nightingale?” 

“Dying wyvern,” Geralt said, hating the attention and wishing he could paralyze Jaskier with the power of his eyes. He earned himself a roomful of snickers and even a bark of laughter from a man in his cups. 

“Alas, I shall have to work harder to convince people that I have the song of a siren instead,” Jaskier said. He then sang an incredibly inaccurate song about sirens, popular when Geralt had first gone hunting, and had the people in the tavern chorusing with him.

“She’ll fuck him in the air / She’ll fuck him in the sea / and she’ll always pluck his guts out / Afore he can fuck himself freeeee.”  

“A monster song for our monster hunter, the White Wolf! Can I hope that I was more of a siren than a wyvern, this time?” Jaskier asked afterward. 

“Definitely sounded like someone was plucking his guts out,” Geralt said, his eyes on Jaskier’s lute, which had begun to sound well-used. 

This time he got actual laughs from the crowd.

Jaskier clutched dramatically at his throat. “The White Wolf’s words have almost slain your siren bard, dear audience, but fear not, I still have one or two songs more left in me!” He hopped in place as if to demonstrate his energy. 

 “Oi, Witcher, not a very efficient kill!” the laughing man from earlier shouted, his face red. 

Geralt shrugged. “No contract for peacocks,” he said. 

Jaskier whipped out a ridiculous feathered hat from under his doublet and preened self-importantly, to general amusement. 

“He may not slay peacocks, but you are free to hire him for devils and other beasts, if you so choose!” Jaskier said. He led the room through “Toss A Coin” again, this time passing the hat around for pay in the age-old style of musicians.

They left soon afterward, before people had time to regret giving them any money. 

“What was that?” Geralt asked once they were out of town, interrupting Jaskier’s self-congratulatory exposition. 

“Now, I know you’ve heard music before, I’m not going to fall for that ‘Witchers are raised in monastic silence’ bullshit again—”

“No,” Geralt said. “The…” He gestured and Roach flicked her ears at him. 

Jaskier smiled. “The technical term is a double act. I thought it would be more fun for you than yesterday, when I was singing and you didn’t get a chance to insult me.”  

It…had been. “Hmm,” Geralt said, suspicious as always about being given something he liked. 

“It wouldn’t work all the time, of course,” Jaskier said. “But sometimes, when the mood is right, the audience wants a little roasted peacock for supper.” 

“Roasted wyvern,” Geralt corrected, suppressing his smirk at Jaskier’s outrage. 

“We’re not double-acting now!”  

“Roach always needs a good laugh.” 

—

It wasn’t the next tavern, or the one afterward, but in the aftermath of a long and tiring contract, Jaskier—still, ridiculously, traveling with him—bounced towards Geralt again before his performance. “Don’t say it!” His fingers landed on Geralt’s lips this time.

Geralt gripped Jaskier’s wrist.  

“Wishing performers good luck makes for ill fortune!” Jaskier said loudly, his eyebrows raised in a silent question.

Geralt had been planning to eat quickly and then recuperate with Roach, but a meal of roasted peacock might be energizing. His lips quirked up just a little, in a way that Jaskier must have felt on his fingertips, before Geralt tugged Jaskier’s hand away. “Not luck,” Geralt said. “Singing lessons. Surely I can wish you had those.” 

Behind them, someone choked on their drink. 

Jaskier’s eyes widened. “You—! Calumny! I shall prove to everyone that the White Wolf’s expertise lies in monsters rather than music!” He bounded towards an empty space at the front of the room.

Jaskier was high-strung, ignorant, and obnoxious, but he fed Geralt lines to rebuff the same way Eskel might use a Sign to drive a griffin towards Geralt’s sword, like he and Geralt were on the same team. Like he cared if Geralt had fun. 

Maybe it wasn’t so bad, being part of a double act sometimes. 

#oh this is great :))

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"Respect doesn't make history."

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mother (noun):

one to whom you hurry when you are troubled

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Queen Calanthe + her many braids

#love her she's awful she's beautiful she's the one

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ppl getting so mad about jaskier having to walk on foot next to geralt is so funny like he’s a trust fund baby and geralt is geriatric. 

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don’t know if anyone drew this already

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Okay yeah I get that in TWN they made Yennefer not find out about the wish until later because of Plot Changes from the books for the show but do they have any idea how much we would have ate UP yennefer telling geralt he "condemned himself" to her? Netflix I'm ready to fight you at 3 a.m. behind my town's closed down Denny's fuck you

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Throat grab....many thoughts

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Hey so listen. I’ve only played Witcher 3 and watched the Witcher show, I know the canon is that Geralt just keeps getting brown horses and calling them all Roach BUT

it would be REALLY, REALLY FUNNY….if Roach has been the same horse for like…..fifty years…..and Geralt doesn’t notice his horse is magic, because how long do horses live? 100? This is Fine. Horses, he’s found, are surprisingly sturdy. One time a catastrophic storm sank Geralt’s ship and drowned literally everyone on board but Roach was found chilling on shore, a-okay. 

Jaskier: So I didn’t want to bring this up at first, because I didn’t want you to think I wasn’t cool with your magic horse–

Geralt: My What. 

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― F. Scott Fitzgerald (insp.)

#WAUGH

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Wow Ciri how come you get to have THREE extremely loving parents that would do anything for you

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the witcher + @dear-ao3 tags (insp.)

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Me: “Which important thing should I do today”

My brain: “Redrawing Geralt and Dandelion from the 2002 The Witcher TV series?”

Me: “Oh of course”