What Are You Putting In Your Soup?

“What are you putting in your soup?”

“Hemlock.”

“Ha! And they say Witchers don’t have a sense of humor.”

But Geralt isn’t joking. Because Witchers are immune to most human poisons, they tend to use them as spices.

Geralt has always been conscious of the fact that this is a thing that marks him as inhuman. He doesn’t bring out the human-deadly spices in towns.

At first, Geralt didn’t add poison to his food in front of Jaskier. But then, the bard proved himself unphased by black eyes, growls, and all sorts of strangeness. Surely, he wouldn’t think differently of Geralt for eating a bit differently.

Only, Jaskier keeps shrugging the poison off as a joke. And he keeps trying to steal food off Geralt’s plate like an idiot!

(Nevermind the fact that Geralt let him do it before and thus gave Jaskier the impression that the behavior was acceptable)

Geralt never lets Jaskier sneak food any more... Jaskier's starting to worry they're regressing in their relationship. Less amounts of intimacy shown. Geralt would just like the bard to stop trying to eat his poison!

Prompt 128

In place of August Sixteenth, Promptapalooza 9/ Most people immediately assume Geralt would be annoyed by human ailments. Find them distracting, or burdensome. They assume that if Jaskier gets sick, the Witcher wakes him up at dawn and forces them to travel onward any ways. They spread rumors that Jaskier sews his own wounds when caught in a hunt. The people speak of the heartless witcher yelling at the bard for getting sick. Of course, it's all false. Couldn't be more false, actually. Jaskier woke up with a sniffle. Just a tiny sniffle. No big deal! And yet, Geralt noticed. Of course he noticed. Notices everything with those damn supersenses of his. "Geralt, the contract-" "Fuck the contract." "That archespore hasn't even taken me on a date yet." "Jaskier, lay down!" "I can sit up-" "LAY DOWN!" Jaskier has been stuck in a witcher-enforced bedrest for two days. Even if the sniffles became sneezes, and his throat began to get scratchy and sore. So what if he had a fever? So what if he felt like shit? He shouldn't be slowing Geralt down! But Geralt won't let him do anything but slow him down! "Not gonna tackle me to the bed?" "No, walking is good for you, in spurts." "How nice." "No, keep moving. Ten more minutes of walking." "In the room?" "You can lap the inn if you'd like." "Well, alri-" "No wait- It rained recently- Too cold and damp for you." "Says who?" "Says me. And your fever." "Geralt, it's been two days of nothing but laying!" "I thought you liked being in bed." "Yes! To fuck! To sleep! Not to lay and stare at you!" "I like staring at you." "FineI'llpacethefuckingroom-"

Before the Sacking, some noble houses would sponsor witcher schools. It was a show of wealth and prestige, which also had the added benefit of putting one's territories higher on the witchers' list of priorities.

Of course, the sponsors abandoned them when the witchers' numbers dwindled too low to prioritize any territory.

Thus, it was a shock to all of the wolves when they received a letter from the Viscount of Lettenhove offering them a sponsorship contract. Was this a joke? A twisted plot to kill the rest of them? Did this Viscount know they couldn't possibly offer him any sort of special treatment?

Despite their doubts, the wolves sent a representative to Lettenhove. Geralt was the most likely to survive a trap, and his reputation couldn't possibly get lower if he had to fight his way out.

Geralt braced himself for the worst. He had his guard up as he arrived in Lettenhove, as he was received graciously, as he met the surprisingly young and handsome Viscount.

"You must be tired from your long journey. I have a bath and food prepared."

"I'd rather see to the contract first."

The Viscount placed a sheet of parchment before him, and Geralt read the contract. He read it again. A third time to be sure.

"What the fuck is this?!?" Geralt growled.

"I thought the conditions reasonable."

"It's completely one-sided!" Geralt waved the contract in his face, like that would help the Viscount see the situation clearer. "You can't be serious!"

The contract, if you could even call it that, basically guaranteed an allowance for the wolf school and safe lodging for them in Lettenhove or any of the Viscount's properties.

In exchange for...stories. The wolves would have to visit the Viscount to tell him about their hunts.

What the fuck?

"I am deadly serious," the Viscount responded, and Geralt could tell it was the truth. "You see, witcher, I have an excess of responsibilities, so I lack the freedom to travel. However, I have the means to pay someone to share their experiences with me. I thought 'why not pay someone who actually needs the money?' You witchers are famously underpaid."

Geralt stared at the noble uncomprehendingly. If the Viscount was looking for entertainment, Why not hire a bard instead?

"Should you need time to consider it, you may stay as long as you like. Your rooms--"

"We'll sign."

The Viscount's proper facade cracked, and the man beamed like a child. "REALLY?!?"

Geralt nodded. He couldn't understand the Viscount, but he also couldn't deny that he and his brothers needed the money.

I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS I LOVE THIS!!!

Witchers have their own set of courting traditions. One of these traditions is to present a token from a particularly difficult hunt to their intended.

When they were lovers, Geralt had carved Yennefer a pendant from the tusk of a basilisk.

Years after that relationship crashed and burned, Geralt realized his feelings for Jaskier. Geralt wanted to court Jaskier, but he knew he needed to match or top the token he had given Yennefer. Otherwise, his commitment could be questioned.

Then, Geralt got the brilliant idea to hunt a series of monsters for Jaskier, using components from each to make one grand gift.

THIS IS SO GAY I LOVEEE ITTT No thim making a lil outfit for his boyfriend with lil bits and bobs made from monsters and beasts omg

Prompt 126

In place of August Fourteenth, Promptapalooza 7/ Geralt knows he has a soulmate when he first hears a small voice ask him what his name is. He doesn't respond. He's not humoring destiny (that bitch) or fate (that cunt). He's not going to respond.

It's been a few years and occasionally the voice still speaks to him.

"Are you real?" "Do you hate maths too?" "I fell earlier and really hurt my knee. Today's been bad. what about your day?" "I had a nightmare last night, but thinking of you helped." "When we're grown ups one day and we get married, we'll have flowers at the wedding, right?" "Do you like music?"

And Geralt never answers. He won't link this innocent child to his wretched, wretched life. He won't link them to a murderer.

Another few years go by, and unfortunately the voice won't shut up.

"Still not talkin', huh? That's fine! I can fill the silence easy enough! Let me tell you alllll about my day!"

He's temped to use their connection to tell his soulmate to stop talking, but he doesn't want to expose himself.

…

And he doesn't want to hurt them.

But them telling him a long rambling story about their walk in the woods that day and how a squirrel scared them right in the middle of Geralt fighting a leshy wasn't exactly helpful.

A few more years pass, and the voice still speaks to him. It's gotten deeper, so Geralt suspects it's a boy. Almost a man, but not quite.

"Father yelled at me again. If you care. I hope whoever you are, you have a better home." "Are you dead? They didn't give me a dead soulmate, right?" "Why won't you talk to me?" "i don't think anybody likes me. Not even you. You never speak to me. I wish you did." "I'm thinking of leaving. If there was any time to speak up and tell me who you are or where you reside, it'd be now." "Please talk to me." "I dreamt of you again last night. I keep doing it, recently. Sometimes you're a woman. Sometimes you're a man. Sometimes I can't really tell. Sometimes you're sweet and shy, sometimes you're flirty and crass. Sometimes you have brown eyes. Sometimes they're green. Sometimes they're blue. I wish I knew."

They're yellow. Hideous and grotesque. Inhuman. The boy shouldn't wish to know them.

"I left. I finally did it. I left just last night. I swear, wherever you are, I'll find you."

Another few years pass, and the voice is still there, but it's much rarer to hear. Geralt feels relief knowing he's finally giving up on Geralt and will find himself a better life.

"I haven't been doing a good job of finding you. But you haven't really given me any hints. Do you not want me to find you? Do you really want me to stay away?"

And Geralt finally responds to the man, for the first time ever.

"Yes."

"IT'S YOU! You responded! You're real! You're actually real! I do have a soulmate! I knew it! I knew I wasn't unlovable! Where are you? I'll-"

And Geralt hears the exact moment his rambling thoughts come to an abrupt crashing halt, as he processes what Geralt agreed to.

"Oh."

And that's the last message he gets from his soulmate's voice. It's what Geralt wanted all along. But after a solid year of hearing nothing from him, Geralt will admit he misses him. He misses the chatter.

It's the beginning of the very next year that he meets the bard Jaskier, who stubbornly fights tooth and nail to incorporate himself into Geralt's life.

He fills the silence left by Geralt's soulmate. It's nice to have prattle back. He doesn't tell Jaskier that, of course. Jaskier is young and foolhardy and jumps from bed to bed, but soon enough, he'll want to settle down with his own soulmate and he'll leave Geralt. Geralt isn't looking forward to the silence returning, but he likes Jaskier. He'd go through any silence for him.

It's Jaskier's fifth year traveling with Geralt. They sit across from each other around a campfire as Geralt roasts some pheasants and and Jaskier stares despondently at the notebook he's not writing in.

And then Geralt hears him. His soulmate's voice in his thoughts again.

"I've fallen in love."

And Geralt is happy for his soulmate. Because - Geralt glances at Jaskier for a moment and smiles to himself - He has too.

"I don't know if you hate me. Or if you're dead. Or if you've found someone else, but whatever it is, I hope you can be happy for me. I love him. I really, truly do. I love Geralt with everything in me."

And Geralt jolts and whips his head to look over at the bard.

"Jaskier?" He sends through the connection, and watches as his bard's eyes grow wide with shock.

"…You love me?"

Prompt 122

In place of August Tenth, Promptapalooza 3/ Geralt and Jaskier are traveling through faewood. They can tell it's faewood because the trees glittered and sang about how much closer the two would be if they just told the truth. The woods went back to normal afterward but it was kind of a giveaway. Jaskier starts playing some mindless melodies on his lute as they walk, only for Geralt to suddenly snarl a bit and turn to look at him. "Can you stop playing, Jaskier? I can't hear my self loathing thoughts when you play." They both stare in shock at each other. "That's not what I meant to say." Geralt states, awkwardly. "Do you often think bad of yourself?..." "All the time." "Me too." Geralt frowns. Geralt is a monster. He's a witcher. He's killed so many. Jaskier is perfect. Jaskier is sweet and kind and lovely. What can he hate about himself? "Geralt, please don't ask-" "What do you think about?" They say at the same time. "You'll leave me. You hate me. You'll find me annoying. You'll find me too loud. You'll never love me as I love you. I love you, Geralt. So much. I desire nothing but your arms around me at night, a kiss between us, you telling me I'm worth something to y-" Jaskier slaps his hands over his mouth and glances away. The trees giggle, and Geralt almost wants to launch a sword into the canopies just to fix the horrified expression on his bard's face.