#witcher winter gift exchange
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@thesmartbluebox @witcherficwriters
Geralt doesn't speak and for a moment there's afriendly silence between them. Then Geralt lifts his eyebrow in a questioning manner.
Jaskier mouth closes and opens without words coming out. He clears his throat.
Jaskier voice is soft and he almost whispers to Geralt.
"A coin for your thoughts?"
" toss me a coin and you're going to regret it" snaps Geralt but there's something in his tone that betrays a bit of amusement.
Jaskier takes a breath and continues. "I couldn't find inspiration to write".
He looks as the snow starts to fall on geralt. He's so beautiful he thinks. He will miss him. But they must part ways for the winter.
Geralt smiles -oh how much he would like to kiss this rare smile.
"Come here" says geralt braking the silence. He extends his gloved hand and takes Jaskier's hand that holds the notebook. Geralt brings Jaskier's hand on his lips.
Jaskier can't breathe.
"Cold" Geralt whispers to and his lips brush Jaskier's fingers.
"Eh?" Jaskier's own intelligent response is.
"Your hand are very cold, come!" He says and pulls jaskier lightly. Jaskier without even thinking, comes closer.
Geralt makes room for jaskier to sit beside him and covers him with his cape.
"Sleep"
The next day geralt and jaskier walk on the path while geralt pulls Roach by his side. Geralt stops and turns to jaskier.
Geralt's posture is stiff. "Stay safe" he says. He nobs towards Jaskier and turns to leave. But he looks one last time behind him as their paths separate.
...
Jaskier walks for a few hours and when he gets up to the hill he looks to the town below. But doesn’t continue- he takes a moment to sit in a stone and enjoy the view of the valley underneath
He takes his pen and starts to compose until it's almost night and the fires from the village below ignite.
As the snow is falling lightly upon the view, he sings his new song.
.
.
.
When the leaves fall from the trees,
I know that you must go.
So, while you are away my love.
I'll cover the earth with snow.
The wind will blow with the icy breath.
Each day while we're apart.
But, the thought of Spring and of your return,
Is safe inside my heart.
I bring the the spring, the summer heat,
green trees and the blue skies
but down below, my true love
My darkest secret lies.
Between this land and my world
I´ll be forever torn
At no place long I can remain
or everyone´s forlorn.
--------------------
This song is a slightly changed version of this one:
youtube
#youtube#cannon#but#jaskier isn't human#importal jaskier#pinning#Canon but jaskier is not human Mutual pinning Jaskier is stuck and needs inspiration. Unfortunately geralt can't help. OR DOES HE?#geralt x jaskier#jaskier x geralt#jaskier#geralt of rivia#the wither netflix#gift#Witcher Winter Gift Exchange#the witcher fanart
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(Band AU) Jaskel for my lovely bestie @devendrasbeard!!!! Happy holidays my love!!!!!!! 🎄🎁❤️❤️❤️❤️🎉🎁😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘😘
Done for the @witcherficwriters Secret Santa gift exchange.
Dear Aguuu, payback's a bitch! is all im saying ;D
no seriously, my love, i hope you won't kill me for making this band au jaskel xD
but look, they got tattoos and piercings (more on places that are (sadly) hidden XD)
and it's also a wee bit smutty, right?
anyway… i hope this piece is a good treat for you bc damn…it def was a treat for me XD
"canon version" of this pic
AND
below a "censored version" since i finished drawing this pic before Tumblr allowed mature content again. the idea for the pattern on their pants belongs to @dapandapod! i thank! also for all your support and screaming during the drawing streams. ❤
no tagging ppl bc it's a gift and also mature content so i dunno if that's even allowed. sry. ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
#jaskel#the witcher#jaskier#eskel#the witcher fanart#the witcher band au#witcher winter gift exchange#so i had an absolute blast to draw this...#aguuu forgive me :D#but i really hope you like it q_q#i mean.... i did ...back in september? xD look this pic is so fucking old by now???? holy crap but im so glad i can finally post it#kei's witcher art
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250 | Monstrous
My gift for @do-what-the-knight-tells-you for the Witcher Winter Gift Exchange run by @witcherficwriters !
Monstrous Witchers? especially Geralt with Jaskier accepting him every step of the way?? ABSOLUTELY my jam
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Gift for @dear-galileo for the Witcher Winter Gift Exchange
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shining in your light (a knight, my love, a knight)
Summary: Jaskier's days as a single man are numbered. With family obligations knocking at the door and no escape in sight, he knows he will soon be forced to marry.
Things are further complicated when he meets a beautiful, brown-haired witcher by chance in a tavern one night.
Jaskier/Eskel | Rated: M | WC: 3k+ | CW: coarse language, implied sex
--
A (very) belated Witcher Writers Winter Gift Exchange 2022 (@witcherficwriters) fill for @matrixfairy! I hope you enjoy, friendo, and sorry it's so late!
Also on AO3! I anticipate at least two more chapters, if not three, to finish everything up.
--
When he was younger, Jaskier imagined life to be a fairytale.
Grand adventures, beasts to be slain, and knights in shining armor.
“Yeeugh,” the man groaned out from the tavern floor where he’d stumbled before him, covered in mud and smelling of horse dung.
Real life never was quite like he imagined it would be.
“I’m so sorry, are you alright?” Jaskier’s hands fluttered uselessly in front of him, wanting to help but not quite sure if the other man was injured. He hastily put aside his tankard of ale and lute.
“Sir? Can I help you with anything?” He called when he received no reply. It took a moment, but the man finally raised his head, turning surprisingly keen, golden eyes on Jaskier. He’d thought he was dealing with a drunkard.
He knew he should feel exposed, perhaps intimidated, under such a sharp gaze. Jaskier had never been prone to the reactions of normal people, however, so he felt nothing of the sort.
Surprisingly, he only felt warm, heat pricking his collar.
Warmer still, as he took notice of the strong jaw, full lips, and long lashes cradling those honeyed irises. His eyes scanned over a set of broad shoulders, topping off a barrel chest, and what he was sure were delectable abs underneath a ruby-colored gambeson.
Covered in mud he may be, but a pig he was not.
“You talkin’ to me, pretty thing?” The rumbling, rich baritone shook him out of his stupor. Jaskier planted a charming grin on his face, casually running his hand over his chin in a thoughtful pose to check for drool. Gods above.
“Ah, but the man does speak! Are you sure you’re alright?”
The other man sat up, leaning against the wall. “Just peachy,” he grunted, leaning his elbows on his knees. “No need to worry, pretty thing. My kind are made for a bit of wear and tear.”
Shit. And a smile meant to break a man’s heart, to boot.
Well. Jaskier had never been one to resist a pretty face.
“Can I help you? Buy you an ale, maybe?”
The grin turned devilish, topaz eyes shimmering with mischief. “Aye, and a bowl of stew if you’re going to bed me,” he winked. “Probably need the energy. You seem like a wild one.”
Jaskier flushed, shocked and pleased all in one. He returned the wink with a provocative smile of his own. “A gentleman never tells, my dear.”
He held out a hand. A little flirtation did not an acquaintance make. Jaskier was no fool, either.
Two swords on his back. Heavy traveling cloak, worn at the hem and tattered. Scarring on his face and forearms - from some beast or other, no doubt.
A witcher. Very interesting indeed.
Those discerning eyes stared him down, assessing, before seeming to make a decision. A strong hand clasped Jaskier’s own.
He pulled the other man up with only a little effort and noted the surprise on the witcher’s face. He felt no small amount of pride. He didn’t have a witcher’s bulk, but he wasn’t a small man by any means.
Now that he was standing, Jaskier took full stock of the other man’s form. His new friend had about three inches on him and at least a hundred pounds. Jaskier felt a pleasant tingle run down his spine. It was rare he met a delicious man like this on accident.
“Jaskier,” he announced in his most imperious voice with a courtly, sweeping bow. “At your service.”
The other man quirked his lips, amused. “Eskel.”
Jaskier felt giddy. “A pleasure to make your acquaintance, Eskel. I believe I promised you an ale?”
That lovely half-smile doubled in size. “Aye. I believe you did.”
###
There wasn’t much talking after they went upstairs. Jaskier’s rented room was small, the bed smaller, but it would do the job.
“Darling,” Jaskier purred once the door was shut, “That armor is quite dashing, but I have to say you’re a tad overdressed.”
Eskel’s warm body pressed against his with a mouthwatering pressure. With the wall at his back and the absolute boulder of a man at his front, he’d never felt happier about being cornered. A rough hand grasped his jaw, calloused thumb brushing against his bottom lip.
“Pretty words from a pretty mouth,” Eskel rumbled in his deep baritone. Golden eyes bored into Jaskier’s own, pinning him with their intensity. “D’you sing just as sweetly?”
Jaskier smirked wolfishly, wrapping his arms firmly around Eskel’s neck. “I’m sure you’ll find out.”
A husky chuckle, followed by a throaty moan. And then the night was silent.
###
Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open, moonlight filtering through the tiny inn window.
He quietly took stock of the pleasant soreness in his limbs, aches in places which meant he’d had a very good night indeed. It took a few moments for him to become aware of the hard chest beneath his ear, carpeted with smattering of dark hair.
He came fully into awareness, remembering his night with Eskel and feeling a goofy smile bloom across his face. He was almost too comfortable using the witcher as a pillow. He would be perfectly content to lounge around until Eskel woke up. Maybe convince him to go for another round… But loathe as he was to move, he knew he needed to get back home.
As quietly as possible, he disentangled himself from the body below him. He dressed in silence, distinctly aware of every swish and rustle of fabric making their way to sharp witcher ears. He put on just enough clothing to be decent for the trek back, not wanting to delay any further.
Jaskier looked back at the man on the bed. He truly had the body of a god, looked absolutely delectable with a sheet just barely covering his exquisite cock. Blessedly, he’d had the skills in bed to match, which Jaskier was quite thankful for.
He looked oddly vulnerable, soft brown curls falling into his eyes and face lax with sleep. The moon’s rays danced across his striking features and made his tanned skin glow. He was the picture of inviting.
He was beautiful. It was a shame this was only for a night.
“May our paths cross again, Eskel,” he spoke softly.
Jaskier slipped out the door, unaware of the witcher watching him leave.
###
His nightly outings were becoming more common the closer he got to his impending doom. Since he’d passed his twenty-first birthday, Jaskier knew he was living on borrowed time. He knew his father would make things as unpleasant as possible.
Men of the Pankratz family were honor-bound to marry by the end of their twenty-first year. If they had not made a match by this time, a match would be arranged for them by the head of the household. The legend (or so he was told, although it all sounded like horse shit) went that were this rule not met, a curse would befall their house and lands, blighting all who lived within them.
Or something. He’d never really paid attention during his governess’s lessons, dreadfully boring woman that she was.
But he was damned sure everyone in his house believed in the legend. Without a doubt, he’d be turned out on his ass for the first respectable gentleperson that came calling for him. He was under no illusions that his father had his best interests at heart–far from it, in fact. The sooner they’d be rid of him, the better.
Nothing like a parent’s love, eh?
He bitterly chuckled to himself as he stepped into the shadowed gardens below his quarters. Right turn at the archway. Left at the lavender bushes. Two steps and a hop across the charming little pond with the frogs he’d played with as a child. Now just a shimmy up the trellis to his open window and he’d be home free.
He should really look into doing this professionally. He’d make an excellent spy.
Jaskier crested the windowsill, feet on the warmed stone floors. The embers of the fire were still hot in the hearth, no doubt stoked by his diligent valet. let out a yawn, feeling his eyes start to droop.
“I imagine I’d be tired too, after an acrobatics routine like that.”
He jumped about a foot in the air. He did not shriek, thank you very much.
“Jana, you witch!” He hissed, blue eyes blazing. “Perhaps I should put a bell on you!”
She smirked, green eyes glinting maliciously. “And where would be the fun in that?”
She was the devil incarnate. Evil in the flesh. He loved her to pieces.
“Sister dear,” he hummed, stepping towards his wardrobe. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Just checking on my dearest Julek. Thought you might be tossing and turning tonight, is all.”
Jaskier squinted at her before turning back to his clothes. He grabbed a nightshirt and stepped behind the changing screen. “And why ever would I be restless?”
He didn’t need to see her face to know she was laughing at him. “Just a… feeling I had.”
He quickly stepped out from behind the screen, more comfortable now in his loose night clothes. He stepped towards the basin to wash his face. Jana was sitting primly on the bench, legs crossed daintily, looking serene as ever.
Something was definitely wrong.
“Oh?” He wouldn’t give her the satisfaction of true curiosity. She was unbearably smug about this little talent of hers.
She got like this, sometimes. Jana was prone to feelings—no one in their family called them premonitions, per se, but it was hard to find a different word to describe them. Sometimes it was small things, like an unexpected change in the weather, but there were other times, too–like when she’d gotten a bad feeling about Aunt Margot’s cold, and she’d passed within a fortnight.
Jana hummed, noncommittal, and tossed her long, chocolate locks over her shoulder. “Something is going to happen tomorrow. Something big. And it concerns you, brother dearest.”
Jaskier didn’t respond, mind racing. He schooled his features, maintaining the indifferent mask he’d learned as a son of the peerage. The tournament tomorrow was for the benefit of the Pankratz House. It didn’t, however, directly impact Jaskier in any notable way–not more than it would impact them all.
“We shall see, I suppose. Now, if you don’t mind,” he pointedly shuffled towards his bed, pressing a kiss to her cheek as he passed. “I need my beauty rest.”
He’d turned down the covers and was just about to snuff the light when Jana approached him, ruffling his hair. He huffed. She turned away toward the door with a smile.
“Indeed we shall, little brother. Tomorrow.”
###
The morning dawned bright, trumpets and birdsong intermingling with the fresh dew. The sunlight was dappled through the trees in the clearing and the air smelled of late spring blossoms.
It was far too fine a day for such nonsense.
“Hark! Hear ye, hear ye! On this day commences the Tournament of Koselig, attended only by the most honorable of knights and lords!”
The opening speeches were always dull as watching paint dry. The Pankratz family was seated in the box with the best view of the action at the head of the field. He was expected to smile and nod as the competitors passed their box, acknowledging the brave souls fighting and potentially losing life and limb. All for the sake of their entertainment–and today, the dubious honor of ruling the shittiest parcel in the province.
It made him sick, to be honest.
“You don’t suppose we could slip out after the announcements, do you? I’m sure Vincent could be convinced to cover for us with the right motivation.” He winked at Jana, earning a giggle in return.
“You know we can’t, Julek. Besides–I really do have a good feeling about today. Something important is going to happen, I just know it.”
Her feelings were not to be dismissed. It was sure to be an eventful day, for one reason or another. He just hoped it wasn’t at his expense.
“Jana, Julian, do be quiet. Where are your manners?” His mother tutted, one elegant brow arched. She was the spitting image of his sister, with a few more lines around her eyes and streaks of gray through her hair.
“Apologies, mother. I seem to have forgotten my patience today,” Jaskier smiled sweetly. “Must these things be so terribly tedious?”
“It would do you well to watch your tongue, Julian. Comes with the territory. A Viscount is expected to behave and attend events such as this.”
“Only a Viscount in name, father. Don’t you worry–you’ll never have to bless me with more responsibility than that with our dear Jana here.”
The tension between father and son was palpable. Jana discretely squeezed his hand in support.
Jaskier’s relationship with his father had never been the greatest, but they had reached an all-time low recently. He felt like he was on a tightrope, closer and closer to falling to the brink as each day passed. Who–or what–his father had in store for him was a great source of anxiety. And two of them weren’t exactly the types to have heart-to-heart chats, so his fate would inevitably be a surprise. Joy of joys.
In other circumstances, he’d be filling the gaping pit of anxiety with a glass of wine and a warm body, but alas. Duty called, as his father liked to remind him.
“We have the honor of being hosted today by the esteemed Pankratz family: the Earl Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove, Lady Maria Pankratz of Lettenhove, Lady Jana Pankratz of Lettenhove, and Viscount Julian Alfred Pankratz of Lettenhove,” the herald carried on. “The knights and lords present will compete today for the honor of overseeing one of his Lordship’s properties in Hygge, a parcel of land which…”
Jaskier found his attention drifting beyond the stands, the announcements a tiresome buzzing in the background. From the looks of it, every person in the city of Koselig had turned out for the event, and probably the neighboring cities too. They were practically giving away a prize today, wrapped up in a neat, entertaining package and decorated with a ball. It was no wonder it looked like the entirety of coastal Redania had arrived on their front lawn.
He wasn’t surprised. His parents were well-liked for their fair ruling of the lands they controlled, but they were equally liked for the lavish parties they liked to throw. It wasn’t all a front, but every event, gift, and act of service was part of a carefully calculated plan to keep the populace happy and maintain appearances.
His mother, for all that she was kind, was incredibly shrewd and good with people. She knew what would keep them happiest (and what would shut them up). His father was a strict man, committed to the principles of duty and obedience. At the same time, he wouldn’t hesitate to manipulate a situation in his favor. Jaskier loved them, but he didn’t always like them.
Hygge was a sizeable estate just shy of a week’s ride north of Jaskier’s home in Koselig. Its accompanying village was full of fishermen and farmers alike, with the coast nearby and plenty of fertile land to till. The former Lord who’d ruled over the property for the last twenty years had died two months prior. Rather unfortunately for everyone, he passed without an heir. Even more unfortunately, he had done a poor job managing things in the last five years. Much work would need to be done by the new proprietor.
His parents needed someone to manage the property and township. Jana, as heir to their family estate, had been assisting with the property in the months since the former Lord’s passing. This obviously wasn’t a long-term solution as she would take over in Koselig one day.
They had decided to select a new proprietor, ideally a knight looking to settle down or a lower member of the peerage without many responsibilities. And because his mother had a flair for dramatics, what better way to find someone willing than a tournament?
It was great marketing, he had to hand it to her. Undoubtedly, they would find someone today.
“Gentlemen! Please present yourself to the venerable Pankratz family!”
Jaskier put on his most polite and courtly smile for the introductions. One by one, the assembled lords and knights stepped up to the box. There was a Lord Valdo from Cidaris who seemed utterly obnoxious–-gods, he hoped he didn’t win. A knight from Roggeveen with a peculiar mustache. Another Lord So-and-So from Denesle who sounded absolutely drunk off his ass—that would make for a good show.
He almost fell out of his chair when he spotted a familiar red gambeson and mop of brown hair. Flashes of last night sent a rush of blood to a very unfortunate place as he locked gazes with a familiar pair of golden eyes.
Their bodies meeting in an intimate embrace. Eskel’s calloused hands gripping his hips tightly. Deep, rumbling groans as Jaskier rode him. The insatiable desire for more. And afterward, those same work-worn hands stroking soothingly down his back. Sweaty bangs tenderly brushed off his forehead. A gentle hand cleaning him up with a rough-hewn cloth. A handsome face, enhanced by scars, relaxed and sated in sleep.
Fuck. Fuck fuckity fuck fuck.
Eskel dipped into a formal bow. “Sir Eskel, Witcher of the Wolf School.”
“Ha!” His father burst out, with great amusement. “A witcher, competing in my tournament! Surely you can’t be serious.”
“Deadly so, my Lord,” Eskel’s lips were pressed into a thin line, his eyes cool. Despite this, he gave no outward signs of annoyance, his posture remaining relaxed and easy.
“Oh?” His father raised an imperious brow. “And do you meet the entry requirements? One must be an established member of the peerage or a knight to compete. This isn’t a tournament for just anyone.”
“How fortunate, then,” Eskel drawled, “that I am knighted. His Royal Highness, Windhalm of Attre, knighted me four summers ago. Dealt with a rotfiend problem he was having, nasty business.”
Alfred did not say a word, but one look at his face said enough about his frustration. Eskel paid no mind.
“Convenient as well that he granted me the title Baronet of Attre, as a personal honor for my services. Still a peasant at heart and in title, but the words are pretty, yeah?”
Eskel rubbed a hand over the back of his neck in a seemingly bashful gesture. “Aye, a shame I turned the land down at the time. After all, a witcher? A proprietor? Can’t be serious.” He gave a deep belly laugh at the thought, throwing his head back. “Changed my mind, though. I’ve rather come to like the idea of settling down.”
The tension could be cut with a knife. Jaskier, his sister, his mother–hell, even the herald–all waited, staring at Alfred in suspense.
“Well then, my Lord? Do I pass the test?” The witcher gave a winning smile, the epitome of mannerly but possessing an air of cold detachment Jaskier knew his father detested. It was the same persona his father used at court.
Color crept up Alfred’s collar. Jaskier could practically see the steam coming out of his ears. He hid a smile behind his hand, biting his lip. Entertainment, indeed.
Alfred cleared his throat. “Well, Sir Eskel of the Wolf School, Baronet de Attre, it certainly seems you do. We look forward to seeing you… compete.” Alfred gave a stiff and reluctant nod, dismissing him. The moment was over.
Or, well, Jaskier thought it was.
Eskel gave his family another formal bow. His eyes met Jaskier’s with intention as he rose back to his full height. Jaskier felt his breath catch in his throat as gold met blue.
There was something there, in his gaze. A heat–not the burning kind, no, but something pleasant. Like hot cider on a winter’s night. Like a fire to warm cold bones--or an aching heart. Jaskier felt a shiver down his spine.
He felt trapped in that stare, unable to look away. He gave a coquettish smile, unable to resist his natural flirtation even for a moment, particularly with the witcher. Eskel gave a charming, boyish grin back, inclining his head deeply before turning away.
And oh, what a lovely sight he made. Although his trousers really did look better off…
“What the hell was that?” Jana hissed into his ear, breaking the spell Jaskier had fallen under.
“What was what?” Jaskier asked in his best attempt at innocence, rubbing sweaty palms against his knees.
“You know what. Do you know him?”
“We may have met before - hard to say, I meet a lot of people.”
Jana scoffed, pushing against his shoulder with her own at his non-answer. Jaskier laughed, fondly, and turned his attention back to the field.
Neither of them noticed Alfred’s piercing stare as he eyed them with suspicion.
(1/3)
#asi writes#gift exchange#gift#jaskel#jaskel fics#jaskier/eskel#jaskier/eskel fics#jaskier x eskel#jaskier x eskel fics#eskel#julian alfred pankratz#jaskier the bard#jaskier#the witcher#witcher#witcher fanfiction#wip#witcher winter gift exchange#witcher winter gift exchange 2022#witcher writers winter gift exchange#witcher writers winter gift exchange 2022#matrixfairy
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my gift fic for @firefly-party for @witcherficwriters winter event!
6.5k modern AU pre-slash Jaskel fluff!
summary:
Jaskier has been playing DnD online for a little over a year, and he would really like to meet his friends in real life! He's just worried that meeting Eskel, the DM he's been developing feelings for, will be, well, disappointing.
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I paid the 20k+ toll to enter Nilfgaard!
My gift for @powerofadyingsun for the @witcherficwriters’s Witcher Winter Gift Exchange! I hope you enjoy, I used the 'empress Ciri' and 'eventual happy ending' prompts!
--
How To Lose an Emperor Consort
Ciri/Morvran | E | arranged marriage, oops! feelings | 8 Chapters/29k
The crisp morning air condenses her breath into small, visible puffs with each soft breath between slightly parted lips. The cold dew paints the sides of her hunting trousers in thin strokes, the brushes hip height undergrowth she’s soundlessly parting to reach her prey.
This is likely one of the last mornings to remind Ciri of the Northern climates she’s lived in. December through March in Nilfgaard contains vaguely winter temperatures, closer to a Cintran false spring, but nonetheless cold enough to draw an occasional frost and feelings of nostalgia.
A near inaudible shift of undergrowth alerts Ciri. There’s precious few moments before she can swing her crossbow in the direction of the noise. Her prey, a large but clever grouse, is already lifting into flight in a clap of wings.
The palm of Ciri’s hand on the crossbow trigger squeezes with the ease of her breath leaving her lungs, the crosshair resting on the center of the bird’s shimmering body at the bottom of her breath pattern. The modified bolt is light enough to pierce the bird through without shattering its small body, requiring a lowered draw strength and increasing the time she can focus on perfect form before firing.
Geralt’s steadying hand is all that’s missing, keeping her from pinching her shoulders up to her ears in anticipation of the kickback. But she can feel phantom imprints of his fingertips even in the expensive fabric of her woven jacket.
The shot releases, the mechanism thudding with cold resolution of a kill shot -
“Morvran Voorhis returns next month.”
Ciri jerks the follow through, ever so slightly disrupting the very end of the bolt’s flight and shifting its path.
The grouse continues its getaway flight, uninjured and unlikely to return to these grounds now.
Tromping back through the undergrowth to the well-maintained path, Ciri stops to rest a fist on her hip. “Really, are you such a sore loser?”
“It is typically the poor study who blames the environment for their shortfalls,” Emhyr answers smoothly, voice as level as it was for his ill-timed announcement - or well-timed, if the point system they use for their hunts is considered.
Ciri tosses her head while falling into step on Emhry’s left side. “Sore loser, I say. You’ve yet to manage a grouse. I would have won, no matter how many pheasants you shot down with that old bow!”
“You’ve yet to beat this ‘old bow’. Besides, grouse are not common to come across from the path.”
“Is the Emperor afraid to dirty his boots by leaving the path?”
Emhyr chuckles in amusement, the wrinkles at the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Now who sounds like the sore loser?”
continue reading ...
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Dear friends,
Here is my gift for bivers_license (AO3) for the Witcher Winter Gift Exchange organised by @witcherficwriters
Title: Terms of Agreement
Summary:
Yennefer has always put her career first, but all of that might change when her friends introduce her to a new online dating app and she matches with White Wolf. Too bad he stands her up on their first date, but luckily for her, there's a familiar face working at the bar who saves the day/date.
My prompts were:
Forced proximity
Epistolary format
Character A introduces something to character B in the context of cold/festive/fluffy winter
Miscommunication leading to healthy communication
I tried to work around all four, but not in this particular order :)
For everyone who celebrates: Happy holidays!
For everyone who doesn't celebrate: Have a nice day!
#yenralt#yennefer/geralt#geralt of rivia#yennefer of vengerberg#witcher fanfiction#the witcher#witcher winter gift exchange
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Not Even Thinking We Could Tame the Wild
Here is the fanfic that I was working on for the past two months for the Witcher Winter Gift Exchange! @whispered-story just for you! and thanks to @witcherficwriters for giving me this opportunity.
https://archiveofourown.org/works/43811290/chapters/110167045
Not Even Thinking We Could Tame the Wild
Word Count: 65k+
Rating: E
Summary: Geralt has invited the bard back to Kaer Morhen a year after the events of Voleth Meir -- though Jaskier is eager, he still has doubts, remembering all that has come between him and the other witchers in the past. As he makes the decision to stay with him, his heart fully pledged to the man that he decided to follow all those years before, he knows that something about himself has changed and he is scared of what it means. ...And what will Geralt do when he finds out the truth about his bard?
#geraskier#nephilimeq fanfic#geralt x jaskier#fan art#the witcher#the witcher fanfiction#geraskier fanfiction#this was a labor of love#the only fanfic I worked on for two whole months#I poured my heart and soul into this#winter witcher gift exchange#witcher winter gift exchange
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My gift for @witcherficwriters's Winter Gift Exchange. The drawing is for the wonderful panda_spirited (BorealLights on Ao3).
Panda asked for 'winter at Kaer Morhen', 'fluff' and 'cuddling' which my brain translated into....
Jaskier convinces Eskel to take “the kids” winter camping, hoping to win over the sweet, shy Witcher’s heart.
Anyway, Panda, I hope you have a wonderful holiday season, and that 2023 brings you a lot of joy, love, and inspiration!
#winter gift exchange 2022#witcher fanart#jaskier/eskel#jaskel#my artwork#goat dad eskel#baby goats are love#eskel my beloved
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Made for the Witcher Writers Winter Gift Exchange ( @witcherficwriters ) as a present for @jaskiersvalley
Cahir and Ciri 🖤
#cahir mawr dyffryn aep ceallach#cirilla fiona elen riannon#cahir x ciri#Witcher writers winter gift exchange#witcher fan art#wiedźmin
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Hello! I am honoured to have written this Hallmark-inspired Eskel/Letho fic for @avengeful-bunny for the @witcherficwriters Winter Gift Exchange. I hope you enjoy and that you have a wonderful holiday season!
It will update on Saturdays.
#witcher writers winter gift exchange 2022#the wticher#my fic#letho#eskel#modern au#jaskier is the real hero here
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Had great fun participating in the «Witcher Winter Gift Exchange»! Thank you @witcherficwriters for the opportunity!
Modern AU Laiden in suits for @hallistarling ✨ Happy holiday season!
#based Aiden looks on the Halli's vision! hope i did him justice :)#laiden#lamden#the witcher#lambert#aiden#my art
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Blossoming in Winter - Chapter Four
For my darling @witchlingsandwyverns, the next chapter of your gift exchange! I hope you enjoy! The angst is getting angsty.
Love and kisses to @witch-and-her-witcher, @temperedink and @wilde-knight for the beta reads, patience and advice!
Blossoming in Winter
Chapter Four: Darkness Unescapable - read on AO3
Summary:
Five hundred years before Amarantha’s reign Under the Mountain, Prythian and the Continent were thrust into a brutal war to abolish human slave lands and the threat of the King of Hybern. Tamlin, third son of the High Lord of Spring, has rebelled against his father to fight on behalf of the human-faerie alliance. A fae archer in his personal guard, Feyre Archeron, makes a foolhardy decision that changes the tide of the entire war.
Rescued from torture at the hands of General Amarantha, Prince Rhysand has been sent to High Lord Thesan’s Hall of Healing in the Dawn Court. Frustrated, immobile and in disgrace with his father, Rhysand meets a fellow patient in healing who helps him see the days ahead, beyond the brutality of war. But can he make her see that future for herself?
A Court of Thorns and Roses AU set during the first Hybern war, inspired by the story of Faramir and Eowyn in Return of the King by J.R.R. Tolkien.
First part of Chapter Four under the cut!
In her quarters, Feyre argued with her nurses until she had driven them from the room.
The nurses were a problem. They insisted on bandage changes twice a day. And she was starting to lose the strength to keep them away. Standing in front of the mirror, breathing deeply, Feyre began to unwrap her bindings.
White, withered skin revealed itself stripe by stripe in the mirror. It was dull and gray, as if it was dying on her bones.
The pale wintry sun shone over the spread of newly infected flesh on her ribs. The skin around the edges was raw and red. Every day she felt it, the searing, frozen cold biting at her body. And then, nothing. More of her body given way on the battleground of her flesh.
Turning away from the mirror, she pinned a strip of clean bandage between her wrist and the table, and began awkwardly wrapping her arm. Hopes or wishes could do nothing now. The ichor spilled on her skin was claiming her body, inch by inch.
Feyre closed her eyes. Sometimes the memories felt so real she wondered if she ever really left the Middle. If that cursed blood that spilled on her had stained her mind as well as her body. The memory of the scent of wet earth and sweet rot hung heavy in her nose. She swore she felt wet moss trailing over her skin, the sound of rustling leaves drowning out the muted bustle of the healing hall.
In the forest, she had not approached the god like a warrior, soldier, or High Lord.
Feyre had hunted.
She was fortunate that his power was so vast it prickled the hairs on her arm, that she could sense it and keep to the very edges, out of his awareness. Fortunate that a small creature such as herself posed so little threat to an old god as to go unnoticed.
Magic had dripped off of him like morning dew. Her feet followed the path decked with new green buds on the trees, spring grass and flowers on the forest bed in the shape of his footsteps, quickly freezing and dying in the early winter cold.
Under the dark trees, she had circled for hours, scenting and tracking. And slowly, she set her trap - of wards and spells, and the more vulgar spikes and ropes.
She didn’t lay eyes upon him until he had fallen into her trap. A towering figure, long of limb, so covered in sprouts and moss and vines it was impossible to see the skin underneath. His power not of good or evil but simply the endless, metamorphic cycle of a seedling sprouting and falling back to the earth as a rotted tree.
When he was caught, bound and covered in his own dark blood, and she finally stood in front of him, her only impulse had been to kneel.
She was a creature of the forest, was she not?
In his eyes, in the draw of that vast power, older than time, she felt the world melt away. Felt how short a time these seven years were to an immortal. Grief over the dead on a battlefield was meaningless, as all would return one day to the earth to feed the trees.
And as he raged even in his death rattle, the burning blood had splashed from his wounds and onto her body. He sank to the forest floor and breathed his last as Feyre had screamed, her skin marked, cursed, by magic and fury.
In her bedroom, Feyre winced at the bite of ice on her flesh. For a terrible moment, the numbness subsided, and she felt the burning pinprick screams of her limb so long asleep and starved for blood.
She shoved the rest of the bandages in between her teeth and screamed.
Through the pain she repeated the awful truth to herself: she had already accepted this cost, for Tamlin, and by consequence, the rest of Prythian. The Suriel had foretold it, and it was just taking a little longer than expected.
Wasn’t one inconsequential fae life worth the rest of them, of all Prythian?
The pain subsiding, she tucked her wrapped arm under a large tunic and tied the sleeve, pulling it tight with her teeth. Then she pulled the fine night-blue cloak around her shoulders and tied it tightly around her throat.
She didn’t admit what was on her mind now. She was going walking, and it was best he didn’t see.
Read the rest on AO3
#acotar#feysand#rhysand#feyre#acotar fanfiction#acotarfanfic#lord of the rings inspired#faramir and eowyn#acotar au#feysand fanfic
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Little comics for @witcherficwriters Witcher Winter Exchange 2022. Gift for @lambden
It was kinda hard to make an art based on the given prompts(although I’m sure they’ll be great for fics), but I hope you’ll like the result!
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