#Geralt doesn't appreciate Jaskier | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thelostgirl21 · 7 months

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Okay, I felt like this post (by @panur & @underthebluerain) deserved some visuals, so people could really understand and truly appreciate just how dramatic the difference in body sizes and shapes between these two gorgeous, absolutely lovely men, is!

And just how skilled the costume design team is, on the show, when it comes to giving the illusion that a character is much smaller (in Jaskier's case) or much larger (in Radovid's case), than their actors actually are.

There was an incredible post, a while back, that really explained how those wizards work their magic!

And it's utterly fascinating!!! Seriously, if you haven't read all of that yet, I highly suggest you go and take a look!

But yeah, when you look at the way their clothes have been designed this season, there's definitely been some attempt to make Jaskier look generally smaller than Joey Batey really is, while making Radovid look generally bigger than Hugh Skinner really is, too.

A few examples (with my extremely humble interpretation / things that have grabbed my eye when I look at their costumes. Please bear in mind that I am but an humble fan with no experience in costume design, so there's probably tons of stuff I've missed, and/or I might have misinterpreted some of those designers' intent):

Then, of course, there's Radovid's cloak that just... triples his size or something!

So, when you look at them side by side with their clothes on (even without the cloak), there really doesn't seem to be such a huge difference in body size and shape between the two.

Why are they so pretty though?

Like yeah, you do get the sense that Radovid might be a bit leaner, and that he has a longer torso, perhaps, but it's not THAT dramatic of a difference...

As soon as you get them out of their costumes, however...

On that last gif, you can really see that Joey's roughly the same height as Henry Cavill, and get the sense that he'd probably fit really well in a Witcher's armor, too!

Technically, their heights are listed as: - Henry Cavill: 1,85cm (6 ft 7/8 in) - Hugh Skinner: 1,83cm (6 ft) - Joey Batey 1,82cm (5 ft 11 5/8 in)

So, Joey's like 1 1/8" smaller than Henry and 3/8" smaller than Hugh.

Since I'm ½" taller than my own partner and virtually never realize it, I doubt they'd notice that 3/8" difference between them.

But yeah, one of the really funny "side effects" of costume designers being so good at their job is when you somehow manage to forget about it while watching the show and then this happens:

and your brain needs a moment to re-calibrate its settings because you're like "Right! Buff bard! Right... 6 feet tall really strong looking damsel in distress that keeps complaining Geralt could break him like a twig, when it would be something closer to splitting a log!"

Makes you wonder if people in Jaskier's family are just... naturally muscular or something (lots of fast-twitch muscle fibers?!)?

Because, while Joey is apparently into climbing, kick boxing, swimming, fencing, medieval sword fighting, etc.

Jaskier complained about needing to walk down the path of a mountain on his own, because his fancy boots kept sliding.

He does a lot of traveling and walking, sure... But that doesn't really help you develop your upper body / pectorals / arms, etc. in such a way!

Unless he just... likes the way those muscles aesthetically look on him?

You know, I really wouldn't put it past him, now that I think about it...

Over the years, Jaskier has just developed his very own calisthenics workout routine to build and maintain his looks, but feels the need to hide it.

Because "body fitness" is not exactly a popular discipline on the Continent at that time.

People tend to train to learn how to fight, or develop muscle mass while working the land or their craft, not because "they like the way those muscles look on them when taking their clothes off!"

So, Jaskier wears clothes that hide his actual body shape, since he's afraid that, if people saw and noticed how built he really is, then they'd just assume he knows how to fight and defend himself, when he doesn't.

People might stop shoving him out of harm's way, pulling him behind them to stand between him and the danger, coming to his rescue, etc.

And, since Jaskier's whole ongoing survival sort of depends on people spontaneously stepping in to save his sorry arse, well...

In the bedroom, however, the added bit of upper body strength and endurance does wonder when you want to be able to fuck someone against a wall while keeping their feet off the ground (for example).

Being able to lift and carry more than your own weight definitely has its advantages...

As Radovid has no doubt found out...

And, if the prince turned out to be a bit lighter and easier to carry around than Jaskier was initially expecting him to be, you definitely won't hear him complaining, either!

Although, I must admit that part of me also likes the idea that they might have been able to accurately "size each other up", so to speak.

Radovid's just there looking at all the lines and proportions on Jaskier's pants and shirt, while figuring out where his shoulders and arms actually stop underneath; being both fascinated by the actual size of Jaskier's body, and the choice of clothing design that's making him look much smaller than he appears to be (if his calculations are, indeed, correct)...

While Jaskier's just looking at all those layers covering Radovid, while attempting to get a rough estimate of the total naked weight underneath, and for how long he could keep him lifted... Hypothetically... For science...

But even there, there's a huge difference between knowing those clothes are playing with your perceptions and briefly getting a mental glimpse of what you think might be closer to the truth... And actually gazing upon or getting your hands all over said truth!

Because sincerely, no amount of me trying to look at this while attempting to make abstraction of the whole illusion created by the clothing design:

is successfully going to be able to make me see this:

Hence why I tend to forget about it, and need a moment to re-calibrate almost every single time Jaskier winds up getting shirtless!

Seriously, just look at the bottom gif of him shirtless, then at the top where he's got his clothes on a few times, one after the other, and try to tell me that you're able to visualize where all of that body at the bottom is managing to fit in there at the top!

It's like part of it literally went missing!

So, even if Radovid had managed to guess that Jaskier was a lot buffer than his choice of clothing was letting on, and vice versa, I'm thinking they'd still have been in for quite a bit of a surprise when they actually got each other's clothes removed!

Therefore, that headcanon would still work, regardless of Jaskier and Radovid having guessed that each of them used their clothes to make themselves appear less threatening, or more imposing than they really are.

#Jaskier #Radovid #Radskier #Joey Batey #Hugh Skinner #Costume design #My thoughts #Other awesome people's thoughts #My Posts #My Stuff

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hold-me-witcher · 4 months

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Head canons about gift giving amongst geraskefer:

-Yennefer doesn't wrap gifts. She puts them in fancy boxes, or in an aesthetically pleasing pouch. They all come with an air of elegance, like her.

-Jaskier was trained in the art of gift wrapping. He puts great care into every fold, like it's an art (to him it is). He appreciates when people ooh and aaah over it. He still doesn't care when it gets ripped apart though, so great is his joy of giving someone a gift.

-Geralt hands you things in a brown paper bag with a grunt and no eye contact. They're either a cool rock he found on the ground (and/)or the most thoughtful thing you've ever seen in your life.

#silly headcanons #geraskierfer #geraskefer #the witcher #twn #netflix the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #witcher fanfiction #geralt #high texts #gift wrapping #high headcanons

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artistsfuneral · 1 year

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First of all, I'm sorry. Secondly, some people in the rbs said they missed the votes, should I make a taglist?

Part 7 of this

Your First Loop

Jaskier's heart feels like it's about to jump out of his chest. His eyes sting painfully. "No, absolutely not. I refuse your refusal!"

Geralt frowns at him and Jaskier wants nothing more than to slap that look off of his face, because it's not an annoyed frown or an angry one, it's not even one of those rare frowns that says "Jaskier, I'm disappointed in you." No, Geralt's frown is full of pity and Jaskier hates it with every viber of his beeing.

"I don't believe this is your decision to make."

He wants to scream. He wants to use his shaking fists to pound some sense into Geralt's chest. "I appreciate the sentiment, but this is my life we're talking about and I'm not going to live it after someone else's memories of me. Whatever you're trying to create would be built upon lies, no matter what we do, I'd never be the same person you're actually wanting to be with."

Geralt's words bring tears to his eyes. There's an incredibly tiny part in the back of his mind that maybe understands where the witcher is coming from. The rest of him is just incredibly tired of all of this.

"I'm sorry, bard," Geralt says with some honest uneasiness in his voice, "but for what it's worth, it wasn't as terrible to meet you as I initially thought." Jaskier looks at him defeated and doesn't say a thing. "Try living your own life from now on, alright? Your existence shouldn't be determined by someone else's."

Geralt leaves and Jaskier sinks to the floor. With shaking hands he draws a glyph into the sand.

✨⏳✨

Jaskier of Rivia regains his consciousness when a piece of rock hard bread connects with his temple.

He is standing in a godawful tavern in Posada, with his hands still on his lute and dried tear tracks on his cheeks. His maybe-some-day-if-he-doesn't-fuck-things-up-again husband to be is sitting in a far back corner of the room, not having spotted him yet.

Oops? Also please remember to like and reblog if you voted, because the numbers can be really disencouraging sometimes :(

And yes there's an actual +/- system behind your answers.

#the witcher #artistsfuneral about the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt #witcher #geralt of rivia

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solcorvidae · 5 months

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Modern Witcher AU: My Headcanons (part 2 of ?)

Jaskier was put in a ton of winter sports as a kid. He knows how to ski and ice skate very well. He can snowboard but prefers skiing.

Geralt, on the other hand, never learned to skate. He and Eskel have not been able to find skates that fit their boot size since they were teenagers.

Geralt likes yard work more than other household chores. He likes maintaining the garden and arranging a nice living space to hangout in and Jaskier is very appreciative.

Jaskier is usually super busy in the winter months. He attends get togethers, dinners, parties, etc. Geralt does the opposite. He and his family head home for some time to relax and catch up with one another after being on the road. They don’t often do big activities or social events, mostly staying in the house with each other for the duration of their stay.

Geralt, Eskel, and Lambert shared a room until Geralt started to get into his teen years. Their childhood room had a bunk bed for the two oldest boys and a single bed for Lambert. Lambert eventually took over Vesemir’s office and it was converted to his new room. Now, they each have normal bed frames that sit on the floor.

Geralt wears a dark brown, felt, pinch front cowboy hat. He is very attuned to the etiquette and superstitious beliefs around wearing one.

Eskel and Jaskier are the same height (6’0)

Geralt is 6’3 but often people assume he’s shorter. He slouches when he sits and tries to take up as little metaphorical space in the room as he can. When he stands up, his posture is straight as a board and this adds to the surprise many people feel when they see how tall he really is.

Eskel is the opposite. He has a large but warm and inviting presence when he enters a room. He makes himself known and takes up a lot of space with his big personality. People often assume he must be taller than he really is and are often surprised when they stand next to him and see eye to eye.

Lambert is 5’11 and bitter about it.

Eskel has textured, somewhat oily skin but shockingly left his acne struggles in his teen years.

Geralt was blessed with little to no acne most of his life—including as a teenager.

Lambert hasn’t quite grown out of it and still gets the occasional (relatively mild) blemish. They usually appear when his disposable razor starts to get dull and begins to irritate the skin--Geralt tries to get him to invest in a safety razor, to no avail.

All three boys share a bathroom at Vesemir's house and Vesemir has his own tiny ensuite bathroom. He doesn't care if they trash their own space as long as it doesn't start growing mysterious molds…

Everyone having different hair colours (especially Geralt) meant that it was difficult to blame each other for hair left in the bottom of the tub/sink. But oh did Lambert try.

They are banned from using Vesemir's bathroom unless they absolutely have to. The shower however, is non negotiable. It is off limits altogether.

The only exception to this rule is when any of the boys are sick. When one of them is ill, Vesemir sets them up on the floor with blankets and a pillow so they don't have to keep running to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It also helps that he can keep an eye on them and monitor if they start getting worse or need to go to urgent care—Eskel was particularly bad for lying about not being sick for a long time.

As a child Geralt would wake up every night in the middle of the night from the dead of sleep and be afraid to fall back asleep on his own. He always climbed to the top bunk where Eskel slept and he felt safe. If Eskel wasn't there or he didn't want to wake him, Geralt would walk to Vesemir's room to fall asleep in his dads bed where he felt just as safe. It took him a long time to grow out of this habit.

Even though his boys are all grown up, Vesemir would never turn them away from any sort of "childish" comfort, especially when they're going through a particularly hard time. If they ever needed a hug or wanted to fall asleep in his room, all they had to do was ask.

[Modern AU Headcanon Masterpost]

#hypothermic ao3 #the witcher modern au #I could write a million of these tbh #kaer morons #the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lambert #vesemir #julian alfred pankratz #eskel witcher #lambert witcher #the witcher fanfiction #the witcher headcanon #sol scribbles

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wannastayugly · 1 year

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After watching Blood Origin, I kept wondering "what if the storyteller chose to show itself to Jaskier as Geralt?", and then this little thing happened. I hope you enjoy!

"Hello?" he whispered, getting no response. Elves and soldiers stood in place, stopped in the middle of a deadly dance.

Jaskier gets up from the bloody floor, with a heartbeat so desperate he could hear it in that deafening silence that had suddenly taken the battlefield. A fear he knew too well tightening his throat.

"Hello?" He calls, louder this time.

Jaskier had never been one to appreciate silence. It was a hard truth to admit: that while bringing music and warmth to others, the thing he craved the most was filling his own ears with their voices, whether they were singing back or telling him to leave, and that, while doing that, the bard had never really learned how to hear nor deal with his own thoughts, much less to be on his own.

Now, looking around, not really knowing what he is looking for, he feels the tears starting to come out and he closes his eyes, allowing them to wash away the dirty on his cheeks as a soldier stares in his direction, but doesn't really see him. No one to perform to tonight.

"I'll haunt you, witcher!" he roars. His chest aching. "Do you hear me? Maybe if you had treated me a little better, I'd never have tried to play hero!" I'd never have tried to be more like you.

He falls to his knees, covering his face and pulling his own wet hair with his tied hands. I don't want this to be how I end, he thinks. And he hurts his throat screaming one more time. Anger, desperation and fear taking him whole.

"Geralt!" don't leave me alone.

"Hello Sandpiper" a familiar voice reaches him, and Jaskier lets out a scream of fright as he immediately gets up and takes five steps back, almost falling to the floor when he stumbles on a death man. And then he sees him. His eyes go wide.

Geralt looks at him with the ghost of a gentle smile on his lips. He is wearing his usual black clothes. White hair falling in front of his face, moving with the wind. Jaskier's mouth is half-open, but he doesn't pronounce any sound. There's a moment of relief, a moment of wanting to run to that man and feel those strong arms around him again; to go back to the safest place he had ever known. But that moment doesn't last long, because that can't be him.

Jaskier wonders if that's just how angels look like when they come to guide you into the afterlife, then: safety. And, somewhere between the mess that is his mind, somehow he finds the strength to laugh at himself, because, if that's right, then even the angels know he'd follow Geralt again, anywhere, and that he'd do it with gratitude.

"Am I dead?" he asks, sounding like defeat. The angel denies. "What are you?"

"I'm many things. Many faces, many places" the white-haired man walks slowly, getting closer. Jaskier feels his heartbeat going fast again, frozen in place not by magic but by something else that had always been inside him, but he had always been too coward to name. And as the man approaches him, so close he can feel his breath over his face, that something screams even louder.

"Why do you look like him?" Jaskier whispers, lost in those golden eyes like a stupid moth attracted by light. But Jaskier already knew why.

I'd follow him anywhere.

"Because you love him"

The creature disappears. Becomes wind. And the next second Jaskier sees himself in the middle of the woods, in another place, maybe another time, and under daylight. He feels nauseous. The elven lady talks to him in a calm, gentle tone. A storyteller, he learns. And she tells him the story of seven warriors who came together to fight for their people, a story he is meant to sing to the people the Sandpiper now protects. But there's also something else there. Something that tears him apart.

"I know why you chose me" he says when she is done, impatient, reading what he just wrote, "It's not only because I'm helping them, is it? It's this… This stupid, tragic love story. But you're wrong about us. You're wrong, because we were never like this."

But when he looks up, the woman isn't there anymore. It's him. Close. His nose touching his. And Jaskier feels like a fool because his heart skips a beat; because he holds his breath, and because, even though he knows that isn't really Geralt, he can't help but being inebriated by the sight of him; can't help but wanting to press their lips together and taste his tongue as that thing tears his clothes apart and makes him his.

"You two are way more like them than you realize."

And just like that, Jaskier is back in the battlefield, surrounded by blood, screams, swords and arrows, with the papers in his hands being the only proof of the reality of what he had just heard and seen.

PART II

#geraskier #jaskier the bard #geralt of rivia #fic

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my-jokes-are-my-armour · 1 year

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Jaskier snapping

This is rare we see our bard angry. Like really angry! But there are some moments when he goes briefly feral or give the impression that, if he could, he would enter into beast mode.

(I could have also put the moment Jaskier screamed at Geralt in Bottle Appetite but it didn't feel the same to me. It's more like bruised feelings and acting like an angry child more than really going wild)

Too many blows at Geralt : this one is wild because he doesn't know Geralt and he really has no chance at all. But for a brief moment he loses all self preservation thought to snap back at the elves that are hurting his companion. This is something that tends to happen in the books when Geralt is in danger, so I loved it.

Too many critics at his art : this one can arguably be not appreciated by some because of what it was (personally it made me laugh) but I liked how we saw anger growing until he just didn't give a f*ck at the consequences. I liked the sudden darkness in him.

Too much pain to endure while protecting his friend's secrets : this one is a punch in my guts. He took it all night. He is exhausted and desperate. But in the end, he is about to lose what's most precious to him for Geralt. Sure, there is pain and fear. But I see defiance in this look. This is a brutal : I WILL NOT BREAK !

And finally, one slap that was so not deserved : I love this one because of the way he says the words. He had just escape imminent death. He is shocked and confused. And he got slapped as proof that he is still alive. This was not necessary and it was mostly hurting him for no reason. He is so fed up. And rightly so. This one is like a warning. Don't push me too far...

#joey batey #jaskier #the bard is angry #twbo #my potato edits

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ikeepwatchinghelicopters · 2 years

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Random thought: Ciri decides that for Halloween, everyone must dress up as someone they love/appreciate very much (and no two people can dress up as the same person). Yennefer calls dibs on Ciri right away. Geralt is now torn. He knows Jaskier expects him to dress up as the bard. But Geralt absolutely doesn't want to wear Jaskier's style of clothing. And since their (romantic) relationship is still pretty new, Geralt'd also be embarrassed with showing his love so explicitly. So, he decides to dress up as Vesemir (though he knows that Jaskier'll be disappointed), but then he learns that Eskel already reserved dressing up as Vesemir. So, Geralt's now stuck with dressing up as Jaskier (to everyone's delight except his). He has a very long internal fight about whether he'll be able to handle wearing that ridiculous hat with the impractically long feather.

Also, Lambert would probably try to boycott the whole thing or make his costume some kind of alcohol, but he can't really resist Ciri (and Aiden) and ruin her fun. So, him and Aiden would be dressing up as each other.

Jaskier, of course, wants to dress up as Geralt. Everyone expects him to dress up as Geralt. No one even thinks about questioning it. He has his Geralt costume ready well in advance, but one time that he's trying it on and trying to get in the Geralt mindset a thought crosses his mind. "Well, I'm Geralt now and if I were to pick someone to dress up as for Halloween as Geralt, it would definitely be Roach." So, Jaskier passes on his Geralt costume to Ciri and decides to dress up as Roach instead. Well, first he has a long debate with Ciri whether him dressing up as Geralt dressing up as Roach is against the rules if Ciri dresses up as Geralt. In the end, Ciri decides it's okay. They keep it a secret, so everyone is absolutely shcoked once Halloween comes. Also, they enter the room where everyone is as Ciri-Geralt sitting on Jaskier-Roach's shoulders.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #yennefer #ciri #kaer morons #random thought #very random #this feels like a shitty mess #or messy shit #you can choose #also #fic idea #feel free to write the fic

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annmarcus63 · 1 year

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It's a pleasant night. His belly is full, his feet throbs after dancing all over the tavern like he was the eighteen-year-old bard he used to be. He's no longer that foolish child, not after everything. The only thing, the only one, who remains from the eighteen-year-old Jaskier is Geralt. Jaskier smiles at the thought.

Speaking of certain witcher, he's sitting on the chair by the window, the light from the fire coloring his side with an auspicious orange hue. He’s so handsome.

It's been a while since the last time he traveled with Geralt, quite a while since the last time they were traveling to a big town. Oxenfurt specifically. That's the reason he feels so content, lightheaded in the best of ways and a little bit excited. You see, he's received a letter from the university. He will be named Artist of the Decade in a major award (obviously) as part of the Oxenfurt Music and Arts festival. Artist of the decade, him, Jaskier. Valdo Marx shited in his pants when the results were published, Jaskier imagines.

"I hope he'd be there! I want to see his cherry plump face when I'm called to the stage. ‘Vulgar art’ he said, he called me untalented, the bastard" The bard is beginning to remove his clothes before going to bed, he's undoing the laces of his boots while talking like eighteen-year-old Jaskier used to. "I'm sure he'll be there. That snake. There was a time he told everyone at the music guild that the lyrics of my song were false, that you weren't even my friend!”

"The lyrics are not exactly true" says Geralt in the background, Jaskier ignores him.

"Oh oh oh I want to see his face when he sees you there"

“Jaskier” Geralt calls

"Take that mister 'i'm better than you' "

“Jaskier” Geralt calls

"Yes, darling?" Jaskier responds with affectionate exasperation. He's having a big monologue here and that's the moment Geralt decides he wants to add to the conversation. He's been quiet lately.

"I'm not going" Jaskier feels a cold blow on the center of his chest. His heart hunching on itself at registering those words. He understands perfectly well what he witcher means but decides to play dumb anyway. "Where, darling?" and apparently Geralt wants to play dumb too because he stays silent.

"Can I ask why?" Jaskier crosses his arms in front of his chest, already defensive and Geralt is there, still sitting, with a somber expression. This is going to end in an argument, both of them can tell.

"I can't"

"Alright..." Geralt hates being prompt to talk when the conversation is tense, but Jaskier can help it, doesn't want to.

"I'm sorry" at least here the witcher looks remorseful.

"No, no, Geralt. You promised!"

I'm sorry, Jaskier, plans have changed..." Jaskier takes two steps forward and Geralt stands raising his hands in a placating manner.

"What has changed...?" And then Jaskier remembers, the black speck against the window in the middle of the night a week ago. "Does this have something to do with that raven" Geralt growls, sometimes he forgets this bard used to be a Redanian spy. “Is it because of Yennefer?”

"I'm sorry" Geralt nods, giving the truth. "Is important"

"This is important to!"

And now the bard is shouting at Geralt, he hates doing that, but the witcher is not helping either.

“It’s an award, you have plenty”

“It’s NOT an award, is THE award”

They are standing in front of the other, speaking at the other in the face, up this close Jaskier can see the pattern of tiny scars all over Geralt's face. The bard takes a couple of calming breaths, trying to keep his temper. He hates arguing with the witcher. "Can't she wait?" he asks, but Geralt only denies with his head, already so sure "What is it about?" the witcher doesn't reply "You don't even know!" there goes Jaskier temper again, the bard throws his arms in the air, exasperated and frustrated. This is important to him, and Geralt knew it and it pains him to realize that the witcher would so easily push him aside. A if Jaskier achievements aren't a thing to cherish and celebrate, as if... he's not important. "She didn't tell, she said It's important" Geralt said followed by a heavy sigh indicating that he thought Jaskier was being childish.

"This is important to me, Geralt - "

" - I know..."

" I asked you to come last year, remember? I told you that I might win the award and you promised you’ll come! I know you don't like big cities but..."

“-It's not that. She needs me” I need you too. "Last time I spoke to her she told me that if she needed my help she'll send a raven."

And that's it. Jaskier can feel his heart turning into dust and falling heavily to the pit of his stomach. It's not the same as the mountain, but it feels similar in a way. Jaskier is realizing just how much he means to Geralt. Again. Jaskier holds Geralt's eyes from below, at least the witcher have the decency to look remorseful.

"I know I promised, i'm sorry that I can't keep my word. But this is important" More important, Jaskier reads between lines.

And then after a long, resigned sigh the bard murmurs "Whatever" It keeps happening, repeatedly, suddenly and inexplicably he keeps getting hurt by his own naivety by thinking that someday Geralt would choose him, not over Yennefer, Ciri or the other witchers. Just choose him because he wants to. Because it's fair, because Jaskier wants to be choose.

He likes Yennefer now, he even caughts himself sometimes thinking of her with love. The kind of love you have for the one that makes your true love happy. But he also knows that she can fend for herself and that is possible for Geralt to wait at least a day before responding to her siren song. She gets to have him forever, why does Jaskier can't have him only for a fucking day? And now he's being pitiful, and he hates himself a little bit for that.

Maybe he's overreacting, maybe it's not that important… but it is! he wanted Geralt to be there, to share the award with him. But at the end it's not Geralt's fault, he'll not resent the witcher for having priorities, a family to take care which includes Yennefer and the others but not him. Maybe it's time for Jaskier to find his own. He has already spent enough effort in becoming part of Geralt. Jaskier goes to search on his bag for his notebook, he needs to rework on his acceptance speech.

"I'll gather we'll be parting ways at the crossroads tomorrow?" Jaskier turns around briefly, wanting to see the witcher’s expression, to be suddenly confronted with an uncomfortable and unexpected feeling at reading on Geralt's face a lot more than surely the witcher wants to convey. Shame, uncertainty, fear of not knowing what went wrong and how to prevent it from getting worse. And Jaskier feels sympathy, despite everything that has happened, what is happening, Geralt tries, on his own, albeit slow way.

"Yeah"

"Good"

Geralt starts fidgeting on the same spot from before, when Jaskier decides he had enough and turns. The witcher hasn't moved an inch, he's waiting for the other shoe to drop, the bard can tell. But it won’t come to that. Not anymore. Enough of this, enough of scraps.

"I'm going out, don't wait for me awake" murmurs Jaskier when he's at the door. Geralt calls for him, but Jaskier pretends not to hear.

_________________

In the morning Geralt arrives at the stables to find Jaskier already waiting for him by Roach. They travel side by side all morning, Jaskier holding his notebook in front of his face, he seems to be reading and rereading the speech, which is weird because he said he's already memorized it. They haven't spoken much, and Geralt hates it. He should be saying something, anything! Something along the lines of "I'll go with you" but what if Yen...?

Jaskier stops and turns around to face him from below, one hand scratching Roach's neck. They are at the crossroads; it's almost noon and Geralt doesn't know what to say. Their gazes lock for a long time, the wind singing softly around them, the leaves of the trees falling like orange rain. It's so calm. "Take care, Geralt" says Jaskier in the softest of voices and turns right. Geralt watches him marching away, wondering why it feels like a goodbye.

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bardcore-jaskier · 1 year

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♡ Challenge for Netflix: stop treating Jaskier as comedic relief ♡

(I made this post piggyback riding off of my last one, like a part two if you will.)

Ok, so you know how Jaskier always seems to get into trouble? And either Geralt and as of season 2, now Yennefer as well, always seem be rescuing him? Even Jaskier himself made a joke about it to our beloved witch.

- "You don't get to play damsel in distress. That's my job."

Sadly, it paints a little bit of an unflattering picture of him to the audience, making many of us wonder (well, not on this side of Tumblr, we know he is a badass motherfucker) about how he survives whenever he is not by a strong witcher's/sorceress's side.

Have you considered though....

That the entire series is written and shot from the POV of ridiculously powerful individuals and Geralt in particular, being the main character of both the books, games & the series, has an extreme savior complex, more so bordering on a martyr complex.

In the Netflix Witcher series and unlike the books: Geralt's friendship with Jaskier started off rocky until he begrudgingly accepted that he can not get rid of the bard, eventually becoming a little fond of him, appreciating Jaskier's loyalty above every other quality Jaskier has, which makes Jaskier easy to trust. (However it is still apparent that their friendship is a little, if not a lot, one-sided)

Obviously Geralt doesn't want Jaskier's death or severe injury on his conscience, which is why he jumps in every time he senses danger, to save him before anything bad happens.

We as the audience only see Netflix's or rather Lauren's version of the story about a scorned hero who has a fragile, trouble magnet, human friend he feels responsible for. When in reality, the only few instances Jaskier wouldn't have survived without outside help were a) the Djinn, b) Rience, c) the opening scenes of Blood Origin.

Other than that, Jaskier is actually a VERY competent person! Alas, not much of that competence was shown on screen, we got mere crumbs of it to be honest. Like how despite being a flowery pacifist, he is braver than most + apparently he is a beefcake too. At 18/19 years old, he wasn't scared of approaching a witcher who at the time, was rumored to be a murderer. He always finds a way to stay lighthearted during the most dire of situations, always getting right back up with a smile or a snide comment after every traumatic experience, as if it never happened. (Is he like immune to PTSD or something? Nothing brings him down.) He even managed to start an elf smuggling operation for fuck's sake!

During the finale episode of season 2, many seasoned witchers died in battle at the hands of Voleth Mier, his chances of surviving were beyond slim. Any other normal human being would have dropped that damn jasper and ran for their life, but not Jaskier! No sir! He crawled his way towards Geralt under a wooden table, as monsters and witchers alike dropped to their deaths around him, all to help his friend!

In the books, Dandelion is presented to us as a smooth talker, able to get himself in and out of almost any kind of trouble with words + charisma alone. He is an Oxenfurt professor, has worked for the Redanian intelligence, he has connections all over the continent.

And I really hope that we will get to see all of that in future seasons, I hope that Geralt's attitude towards him changes, I hope that Jaskier gets the respect he deserves! Because after season 2, I am going to keep watching the series only for Jaskier alone. Also Yennefer. I do not much like Geralt and Ciri in the live adaptation at the moment.

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wren-of-the-woods · 11 months

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Okay I know a lot of us are making fun of Jaskier's hair, but I'd like to take a moment to appreciate the fact that Geralt doesn't look like a pootoo bird anymore!

#i saw a gif closeup of his face and it actually looked good!!#he doesn't even have the dorky ab armor anymore!!#maybe there's hope!#and jaskier has eyeliner and he gets to sit in ferns so imo it can't be that bad #the witcher #geralt #jaskier #the witcher s3

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wolvesandfoxes25 · 10 months

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The truth will out.

"I have a question for you, Geralt?" Jaskier asked, his face pinched up in aggravation.

"Hm?"

The bard spun around, his fingers in their signature formation, shifting into an O.

"Is there a reason why you're giving me these piteous looks?" He all but snapped out, moving a piece of brown hair behind one ear.

Geralt was taken aback... almost flushing at being called out.

He hadn't meant, per say, to do what he was being accused of...but looking back now he realized he kinda had.

"What are you on about?"

Jaskier chuckled, no humor anywhere to be found.

"I'm no fool, Geralt. I know you've spent 20+ years thinking me one, but piss off with that accusation."

Geralt sat down, eyes taking in the fluffed up form of the brunette.

"Jaskier. If I've offended you, I truly apologize." He replied as heartfelt as possible. Which, for him, was a low growl, but... semantics.

"Thank you for the apology, but it doesn't negate the fact that you've been doing it. Now, my acrimonious friend, do enlighten me."

Geralt had always known about the other mans...affinity for him. How could he not?

Jaskier wasn't exactly subtle.

"Is it because you know I wanna fuck you?"

Geralt felt like he'd been slapped.

"Honestly, I stumble upon two people a day I'd like to fuck. So, what? Why the looks?"

Silence.

"Have you seen yourself? Your arse is a thing of glory, as I've said before."

Jaskier waved that statement off like he was shooing a fly.

Gaining his... albeit lack of words, Geralt crossed his arms.

"No. Well, in a way, it is regarding that." He grumbled.

Jaskier rolled his eyes, eyes drifting down to his laced cuff.

Silence.

"I know you care for me." He whispered, knowing his friend would hear.

Jaskier froze, fingers clenching together.

A long, grinding silence filled the cabin and Geralt hated it.

Finally...

"Ah, I see. Poor, pathetic Jaskier, always running after the unattainable. In this case... you." He grit out between clenched teeth, blue eyes flashing.

Geralt glared, getting to his feet.

"I didn't think that for one second, Jask."

Jaskiers glare deepened..."Don't fucking call me that, godsdamn you. S-Stop looking at me like that!"

The Witcher grit his teeth, trying like fuck to reign his temper back to its confine.

"Did Yennefer give you this tidbit of information?" He demanded.

Geralt didn't answer.

She had... at one point mentioned it.

He hadn't replied to her, not wanting to use that topic to... gossip. It wasn't any of her business, and his silence let her know that.

"She did. I fucking knew it. The two of you enjoy a good laugh at my expense?"

Geralt glowered now.

"How little you think of me." He hissed.

Jaskier glared, blue eyes full of discomfort and embarrassment.

"How little you think of the fairy, huh? Sullies your witcher name for a person with a cock to love you? Sorry, I left my cunt back in Oxenfurt."

Turning to leave in a huff, he felt a big, heavy hand clamp onto his wrist.

"Unhand me, you brutish lout of a man!"

Geralt did, setting him firmly against the door.

The two of them stared at each other in the dim light of the shitty cabin, both of them breathing heavy in the night air.

Geralt watched his chest rise and fall beneath his coat, lips pinched together in fury.

"I never meant to judge you, Jaskier."

Silence.

"Well, the 'woe is him, poor piteous little dandelion' has been permanently plastered upon your face for days now. And I would really appreciate it if you'd stop." Jaskier choked out, looking like it was physically painful to say those words to the other male.

Silence.

"I can't help the way I feel, alright? I've tried for years to.. to.. deny what I feel. To push you out and away from my very essence, but I fucking can't!"

He spat out those words like acid in his throat and Geralt felt them like acid across his face, stunning even him into silence.

Jaskier looked like a caged animal when he moved to leave again. But Geralt gripped him again, forcing him back into place.

The brunette pushed at him furiously, but Geralt didn't relent, trapping him.

Two sets of eyes locked... and Geralt felt near possessed when his hand reached up and cupped his bards face.

Blue eyes widened at the action, his lips trembling, chest rising and falling like he'd run away from a monster.

Maybe it was Geralt he was running from mentally.

It was too late, wasn't it? To let Jaskier know?...

Jaskier pushed his hand away with trembling fingers and all but ran out of the cabin.

Geralt stood there, feeling foolish.

The end. Or... to be continued?

#geraskier #geralt and jaskier #geralt x jaskier #the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #my fanfic #angst fanfic #fanfic #confession

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restless-witch · 5 months

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nothing in the world is mine, but my love, mine

hey hey I did a one-shot for once, I've posted it on Ao3 here but I know some of y'all like to read fic on tumblr so it's below the cut

Comments and likes always appreciated <3

He clocks the bard as either noble or a romantic the moment he sees the gloves on his hands. They're subtle, as far as the custom goes, a dark olive colored kidskin with a simple flower button wrapped around his wrist and covering only his thumb. The Witcher always wears gloves of a kind, Jaskier determines after a few weeks on the path together, though out of utility. a quick soulmates AU where soulmates have matching marks on the sides of their hands // title shamelessly stolen from Mitski's "My Love Mine All Mine"

Rated: T for swearing

Fandom: The WItcher TV

Pairing: Geraskier (Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier), background Yennralt (Yennefer of Vengerber/Geralt of Rivia)

Language: English

It's not satisfying when the bards confirms both to be true on their way to investigate the devil but when they're being kicked by Toruviel, he thinks that if the bard was a full gloved wearing hack then they'd both be dead.

Which also isn't satisfying.

The Witcher always wears gloves of a kind, Jaskier determines after a few weeks on the Path together, though out of utility.

Apparently the most dressed down the witcher ever gets is a pair of fingerless gloves worn even to sleep. Something about improving his grip and tendon injuries- Geralt tenses up when he can sense Jaskier wants to ask if witchers even have marks. Jaskier can feel how fragile their friendship is. He doesn't press the issue.

He hopes that puts a mark in his favor.

By the end of the season, Geralt determines the bard has no less than seven pairs of gloves- yet only two of them are permitted to actually get dirtied. Two suede pairs to match the colors of his "lover's eyes" (unoriginally brown and blue), three pairs for wearing in town, and a scant two pairs for all his bathing, cooking, and laundry.

It's utterly ridiculous.

Before they part at Ban Glan for the winter, he tells the bard to get more sensible gloves before spring on the Path.

He's at Ard Carraig before he realizes he planned for the bard to join him again.

When he returns to Oxenfurt, the two pairs of gloves he has for washing are nearly worn to shreds- he throws them down on the table at the Wishful Warbler with a grin when Shani asks about his travels. He's going on real adventures with his-maybe-friend-Geralt and getting dirty and everything. He spends the winter as a research assistant to Professor Berlyn and learning to make stacks of washing gloves.

His friends, who largely only own a pair or two or have entirely dispensed with the custom, are overrun with gloves of varying quality. Priscilla generously accepts a stack whose thumbs must all be split open to accommodate even her dainty digit.

He manages to barter for a pair of amber saffron dyed kidskin gloves- painstakingly transcribing Metz's treatises on celestial calendars small enough for Valdo Marx to use them as crib notes.

It's worth it.

It's a true lark to set them along with his brown and blue gloves and he whistles when they meet up in the spring and he waggles them in Geralt's face and thinks Geralt is about to strangle him- before the ludacris stack of washing gloves topples out of his bag onto the witcher's lap and he can't help but bark a laugh into Jaskier's delighted face.

He knows the bard is, at least, serious about walking the Path when he drops the stack of gloves on Geralt's lap. It's a bit of a child's attempt at adulthood, he admits to himself because he knows it would crush the bard to know twenty years of life does not make a man.

Still, it dampens his concerns of noble nonsense a bit to see where the calluses from needlework have made his fingertips even more knobby alongside the ones from his lute. For all the work Jaskier puts into his hands- carefully filing down his calluses and nails when they crack and rubbing ointments in before he beds down- Geralt can see it's a dedication to practicality and not vanity.

The bard is unconcerned by the healing scars where broken strings have cut into the flesh or the uneven tan marks across the backs of his hands where the different gloves have sat.

Jaskier wonders, just a teensy bit, if Geralt's glove wearing excuse isn't a little... weak.

Always needing his full grip strength?

It's a lighthearted solstice evening where he's helping Geralt in the bath when the witcher turns his head to the side, immediately stands up and storms over to the next room (nearly cock out and everything if Jaskier hadn't thought to throw the bath sheet at him) and throws an unwanted suitor off the serving girl.

There's suds dripping out of Geralt's hair all over the floor that he knows he'll wipe up later with the very gloves he's wearing now and Jaskier thinks he is maybe falling in love, for real this time.

A handful of times, he catches the bard cooing over marks in taverns. He wonders if it's a bit- some flirtation over how a lass or lad with such lovely signs could possibly take up with a scoundrel like him.

It's not the most rakish bit he could suspect of the bard- though he notices the bard never takes off his gloves in return. He wears them even in the cities and hamlets where the custom is less common or replaced with simple patches of dyed skin.

It makes him seem damn right virginal to keep them on all the time.

Perhaps the bard's mark is something obscene- it's not unheard of. If that were true though, he suspects the bard would leverage it into some pickup line about his prowess in bed.

Perhaps the bard has no marks- a person blessedly free of obligation or destiny.

He thinks it would be a kinder fate for Jaskier to be free of those kinds of concerns.

Jaskier knows his fastidiousness with wearing gloves is a little unusual for the current fashion but he commits to the bit.

He thinks it's more romantic to have them revealed and thinks his are especially gorgeous; a simple sun on his right hand and a moon on his left, a small comet arcing over each and a few lines he thinks are wind or perhaps clouds. He's seen more ornate or filigreed marks- even the occasional mark with a splash of color- but his marks are so curiously endearing.

When he links his bare hands together he sees a miniature of the universe and hopes that one day, he may hold his soulmate's marks against his own and feel the world between their hands.

He'll admit he's kept the privilege of the reveal to himself; but he'll be a little selfish if it means he can know to watch their delight when he reveals a world in his hands- a world to share.

He's not sure where his soulmate will fit in this life he's made in Oxenfurt and on the Path, but he never could have predicted the love that's already sprung up in his life already.

It's a very late night, or a very very early morning, when Geralt asks Yennefer about her marks- the marks erased when she became a mage.

"Never had one," she says, teasingly tracing the edge of his gloves, "I never needed fate to find love."

In the dark, between a sigh and a moan, his gloves are cast away.

When the sun has properly risen and midday creeps closer, she holds hands between her own.

"Rather provincial, aren't they?" She brings the tender pale flesh of his palm to her mouth and bites playfully, "I'd expect nothing less of a Rivian."

"Not quite a Rivian," he says and gently wriggles his fingers against her jaw, smiling as she can't help laugh and let the marks out of her teeth, "are they to your liking?"

Her answer comes as a carafe of apple juice.

It's a hard day: starting with Geralt stumbling through a portal smelling of lilac and gooseberries and ending with Jaskier dragging a nearly-drowned Geralt out of a waterhag's shack.

Two baths were called- a rare luxury in a rickety town- for Jaskier knew a shared bath would end up with at least one of them more disgusting at the end. Geralt is, Melitele be praised, uninjured besides a black eye that blooms stark against the lingering potion-pale pallor he'd had earlier.

The two strip and Jaskier climbs into his bath: Geralt casts a look at the door and cocks his head and throws his pus-soaked gloves straight into the chamberpot.

They soak, side by side, and chatter tiredly and Jaskier thinks nothing of it when Geralt offers to perk up his water and he sees the moon and comet and dappled lines on Geralt's right hand as he casts Igni into the bath.

The smell of lilac and gooseberries and fucking are starting to sweat out of Geralt's hair and the memories of the wedding feast cut through him, unbidden, and Jaskier should have won another master's degree in performance for the way he blames the jump in his heart on the scalding water.

The curling misery he later blames on the thought of ridding the swamp stench from his boots.

Jaskier learns to knit gloves sometime around when Geralt forces himself to admit the bard is past boyhood. It's a rather domestic skill for Jaskier to learn in adulthood, though he claims they're easier to make and repair on the Path: which isn't a lie exactly and the bard does earn them a few coins fiddling with the needles in town and selling the gloves.

The knitted gloves seem to be his preference now- less prone to tearing as they wear and able to go longer without laundering. It's the threads of anxiety beneath it that give Geralt pause, he's been presuming Jaskier was unmarked entirely and wore the gloves for attention, but the longer he guards the little span of flesh the more Geralt thinks a tragedy must lie beneath the scraps of fabric.

Perhaps the person he shared his marks with had rejected him- though Geralt thought that unlikely given how firmly Jaskier had attached himself to Geralt's side despite him trying to outrun the bard for a year. Whoever shared his marks didn't stand a chance against Jaskier's persistence. Against his smile.

Perhaps the person he shared his marks with was already dead. Geralt didn't believe in the machinations of destiny or soulmarks, but that too twisted at him. Jaskier was a scoundrel, yes, but didn't deserve that so early in life. At the very least, it would explain why the bard wasn't concerned to muck with his fate by sharing his time with a witcher.

At the very least, he counts their time together as a blessing now, even if it's stolen from another.

Jaskier thinks it's finally time to come clean about his marks- their marks really. Not all marks are about just two people, he knows that, and Yennefer isn't the worst person to share a life with.

Honestly, he already does- Geralt's adverse to destiny but Yennefer would be sensible working out some kind of custody schedule if they didn't want to invite him in. He shares his life with Geralt, which is more than many soulmates get. He's not even sure he wants more of their lives shared, but the longer he keeps the marks hidden- the more the omission feels like a lie.

The more he knows he's lying to Geralt.

He figures it's an even shot Geralt that he'll never see him again or he'll be invited to winter at the Kaer.

It turns out he didn't even need the marks to drive Geralt away, being himself was enough.

"See you around Geralt."

A week after the dust settles and the Deathless Mother has been banished from their plane, Geralt notices Jaskier's gloves stretch from wrist to fingertip and when Jaskier is pulled into what is rapidly becoming Yennefer's lab, he can hear a sympathetic pained groan from Yennefer as Jaskier's fingers are rebroken.

Geralt knocked against the open door of Jaskier's room: Jaskier kicked another log into the fire-

Geralt should have thought of that.

"Come in," Jaskier said and settled back into the chair before his diary. Geralt saw a page with very few words and many drops of ink smeared across it.

Geralt took the poker and rearranged the wood of the fire to burn more evenly, "Yenn says you haven't been caring for your burns," he coaxed the fire into a more even burn and pressed it further back into the hearth.

There was a long silence, "I can't open the jar," Jaskier admitted.

"You know anyone here would help you, Jask-" he dragged a hand through his hair, had he really fucked it up that badly?

Jaskier's silence said what it needed to.

"I'm sorry I didn't make that clear, Jaskier," he said and saw Jaskier's gaze drop lower, to the page in front of him, "may I help you now?"

"I would like it if you opened the jar," Jaskier said, "I don't want to trouble you any further. And thank you for the fire-"

"It's not trouble, I should-" Geralt huffed a sigh, "I should have thought of it sooner. Thought of you sooner- please, let me help you."

Geralt could have heard a pin drop on the opposite side of Kaer Morhen as he waited for Jaskier to say something- anything.

He opened the jar of ointment and held on to it, even when Jaskier put a trembling hand out to grasp it, waiting for Jaskier to permit him to tend to the burns. Jaskier gave him a worn look.

Jaskier carefully took his gloves off- his fingers still wracked with the persistent tremors that made the single button at the wrists take an achingly long time to unfasten.

"The draughts help," Jaskier said softly, "but they will take time to subside."

They do not speak of the lute calluses that have started to thin and peel off entirely.

The gloves came off Jaskier's hand- revealing two palms and thumbs soiled by burns. There, amongst the gnarled scars, laid the burst remains of a sun and a moon.

Metz's treatise on the formation of the celestial spheres says the bursting of a sun creates a black hole: swallowing whole planets into its gravitational pull.

Geralt thought, perhaps, he should have considered his own marks when he wondered of Jaskier's for how often their hands touched.

"Don't-" Jaskier started, he took a deep breath and looked at the marks and not at Geralt, "please just the ointment, Geralt," he held out a hand again to take the pot from Geralt.

Geralt took the little pot of ointment, preciously carried in his saddlebags from Cidaris to Gulet to Kaer Morhen, and tugged off his own gloves as well. He carefully scooped out some of the ointment, the smell of dusk campion faint and familiar, and he warmed it between his palms.

He gently dragged his palms over Jaskier's before nimbly working the oil and medicine into his skin, taking care to rub into the creases between his fingers and the bumps of his remaining cuticles.

Yennefer says the draughts will help the nerves return and the ointment will smooth the burns.

Geralt was careful to be methodical and detached as he covered the marks with beeswax and the scent of campion. He cannot help but imagine the pain that forced Jaskier's sun and moon to bubble and split so wide; the layered burns that distort the comets into slashes of lightning.

He cannot help but wonder why Jaskier didn't leave him to rot.

He cannot help but wonder why soul marks are counted as a blessing when his sun and moon remain clear and smooth while Jaskier's have ruptured into glowing black holes. He must not be an expert, there must be a gap in his knowledge, for he'd once counted Jaskier's dismissal as a blessing.

"Easy there, Geralt," Jaskier said kindly, "there's no reason for all that."

Of course Jaskier could interpret the bite of Geralt's lip and the furrowing of his brow.

Geralt held Jaskier's hands between his own, their suns and moons nearly meeting where the burns didn't warp them, "I'd given up on seeing this," Jaskier said fondly, "our own little world in our hands." He traced Geralt's comet down to the bowl of the moon, "Thank you Geralt, you did a very good job."

"I'm sorry," Geralt managed, "I didn't know."

"I didn't really want you to, would you have received it well?" Jaskier said pointedly, then his voice softened, "it was bad enough I wormed my way beside you- this- Geralt,” he gently squeezed their hands, “This is more than I dreamed of.”

"You should want more," Geralt said, "You should ask for more. I'm sorry-"

"I've said the same of you," Jaskier laughed softly, a rare sound of late, "I've said the same of you many times. Perhaps we can work on this together."

#actual fic nothing in the world is mine but my love mine #geraskier #geralt/jaskier #the witch writes

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