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thelostgirl21 · 1 year ago

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Well, actually, I mean...

He did "hire" Geralt (as in, he claimed that Geralt "owed him" for his help with changing his reputation and making coins flow his way) as protection for a bunch of (some rather small and pathetic) humans that wished to kill him, too...

Then again, perhaps he didn't want to cause a scene at a royal event, didn't want to be forced to "come out" to the world as being "a really buff bard", and was counting on Geralt's size and looming presence alone to deescalate situations.

And he also needed to be saved from that guard at the docks (OMFG! why did autocorrect change "docks" to "dicks"?!?!?! Sorry! Had to say it!)...

Then again, that guard is bigger than he is... and quite frankly, from the way he's staring back at him here, I can't even tell you if Jaskier completely froze because he was feeling scared, or because he suddenly got really aroused by the way that huge bear was manhandling him:

Talk about the worst timing to experience some "kink awakening"...

Elf:Fuck the North. Jaskier (in his head): Yeah, and fuck me, too!

(On second thoughts, maybe autocorrect was onto something when it tried to get me to write "guard at the dicks" instead...)

He also sort of got really nervous when three average-size men showed up and started harassing Yennefer back when she'd lost her powers, and took off running after her...

Then again, that would be three against one, and maybe Jaskier is such a gentle soul that he'd only resort to "fight" if "flight" was no longer a viable option.

I think the most "fighting" I've ever seen Jaskier do against another human being on the show is blocking a blow, and managing to push that weapon away from him after Geralt distracted his opponent by sticking an axe in their shoulder...

That mix of adrenaline and upper body strength probably did come in handy!

I kind of recently dedicated a video to him being very good at running, hiding, and/or being rescued, actually, since that's what most of his action scenes have consisted of thus far on the show...

Although, I do kind of like the idea that Jaskier might just really be wired to instinctively act scared / back off with people (and living beings in general) as soon as he's being threatened, in the hopes that it will calm them down and show that he's not looking for trouble, and has no desire to fight them.

If that doesn't work, then he'll just run away from the situation or conflict if possible.

And when a big fight occurs where others might get hurt, he'll just run towards it to do some damage control and try to keep people from getting injured, and/or rescue those that have been.

But yeah... Perhaps if "flight" is not an option, or someone actually needed physical protection, Jaskier would fight back. He's just never really had to get that far yet.

Then, something happens where someone threatens Radovid, and Jaskier just instinctively shoves him behind him and punches the guy, sending him flying to the ground, effectively knocking him out...

And Jaskier is just looking at his own fist, in shock, going:

"Wait. What just happened? I've never even punched a guy before! How did he go flying like that?!" Geralt: "For fuck's sake, Jask! You're built like an ox! What did you expect would happen?! What do you think all those muscles are for?!" Jaskier: "Well, actually - " Geralt: "No. Don't answer that." Radovid: "Thank Gods!"

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 #the burliest damsel in distress to ever damsel...#Radovid #Radskier #My thoughts

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setaripendragon · 3 months ago

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I love it when Jaskier is able to save Geralt, whether that be by sheer dumb luck and some guts or by immense skill like with people. Just anytime they both save the other is such a good time in my opinion.

How do you feel about it? Are you a Jaskier is the only damsel in distress or do you like them to switch off being the damsel in distress?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Oh, I have extremely varied tastes when it comes to Jaskier and his relationship dynamics.

I do have a soft spot for feral!Jaskier who gets treated as the soft and squishy damsel in distress just because he hangs out with witchers so much, but is actually a feral little gremlin who can hold his own quite well against other humans, which usually culminates in saving Geralt from other humans that Geralt doesn't want to fight/hurt for angsty self-loathing reasons.

But I also have a soft spot for actually-pretty-soft-and-squishy!Jaskier who doesn't know how to fight or really have much of a self-preservation instinct, but... I remember seeing a gifset of an interview with the actor where he explains that one of the things he focused on in playing Jaskier was that he would save people when a fight broke out. Plays crowd-control and crisis-management and keeps people calm and morale up.

It's an over-looked role in a lot of high-drama fantasy stories, and I really like it when there's emphasis put on that. Which, I suppose, is an example of Jaskier helping save Geralt.

I also like the stories that put emphasis on how much his songs have helped not just Geralt's public image, but all witchers.

So, yeah, I think I can say I like it when Jaskier gets to save Geralt, I just like it when he gets to do it in unconventional ways. Geralt gets to be the dashing knight who saves the damsel in distress from mortal peril, but Jaskier gets to save him right back in quieter, subtler ways that matter just as much.

#Geraskier #the witcher #amloveabledeathmo

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lucigoo · 2 months ago

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How do you feel about it? Are you a Jaskier is the only damsel in distress or do you like them to switch off being the damsel in distress?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

I often feel like Jaskier ramps up the damsel in distress act. One he is a phenominal actor, and two, why wouldnt he? Geralt likes to help and be useful. Jaskier knows this and if Geralt can save him, then yeah, go Geralt! Jaskier is often alone (most winters) and he was the Sandpiper. Like his entire character is BAMF, but he is also not afraid of being seen as soft or weak which I adore about him. He is the human surrounded by non humans and he knows this and I feel like he plays it up for his super strong, emotionally repressed friends lol.

#Ask games #ask away #geraskier #geralt/jaskier

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handwrittenhello · 2 years ago

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Don't Look

T, 3k, no warnings, suspense and hurt/comfort

"Close your eyes!" Geralt yelled as soon as they came upon the nest, realizing what creature they were truly in the sights of. "Don't look at it!"

It was a rare occasion that Geralt let Jaskier accompany him on a contract, and rarer still that Jaskier was in any danger, and so Jaskier slammed his eyes closed, pressing his palms over them like a child playing hide-and-seek, and waited to be torn apart by sharp claws.

read on ao3 or continue below:

Jaskier couldn’t see.

He sniffed—his nose itched—and swore as he stumbled again, the toe of his boot catching on a protruding tree root that seemed, like every other fucking plant in this forest, determined to trip him specifically.

“Lift your feet higher,” Geralt coached him, his voice always maddeningly out of reach. It was his damn job to guide Jaskier out of the forest, and if Jaskier were feeling uncharitable about it—which he was, ow—he’d say that Geralt was doing a rather shit job of it.

Of course, it was only thanks to Geralt that he hadn’t walked off a cliff or into a nest of ghouls by that point, so Jaskier kept wisely mum.

“Easy for you to say when I can’t fucking see,” Jaskier griped, but did his best to lengthen his strides, feeling a little like a dog forced into a pair of woolen socks.

The reason for such a charade was the strip of cloth bound tightly around his head, brushing against his eyelashes whenever he twitched and obscuring his vision completely.

“How much farther?” he asked, hoping that the plaintive note in his voice didn’t translate as whining. But he was tired, he was stressed, and he’d really have rather been in town safe in the inn, away from the creature hunting them.

Hunting Jaskier.

It had caught his scent, as Geralt explained, latched onto him like a cat zeroed onto its prey, and it wouldn’t be satisfied until it got its meal.

But he was safe with Geralt—safe as long as he kept the blindfold on.

Geralt had yelled, “Close your eyes!” as soon as they came upon the nest, realizing what creature they were truly in the sights of. “Don’t look at it!”

It was a rare occasion that Geralt let Jaskier accompany him on a contract, and rarer still that Jaskier was in any danger, and so Jaskier had slammed his eyes closed, pressing his palms over them like a child playing hide-and-seek, and had waited to be torn apart by sharp claws with his heart racing.

He had stood there quaking, wishing desperately to flee but not knowing where to turn, while Geralt had grunted and yelled and swung his sword, finally succeeding in driving the creature off—but not killing it, he’d said grimly as he tied the scrap of torn shirt around Jaskier’s head. “It feeds mainly on fear,” he’d explained. “It’s already chosen you. If you lay eyes on it, it will never let your mind go. Most go mad with it.”

“Most?”

“The rest die of fear.”

Jaskier, who quite strongly valued his sanity and his life, thank you very much, kept the blindfold firmly in place as Geralt guided him out of the forest.

“A mile, maybe,” Geralt said in answer to his previous question. “Watch out, there’s—”

“Fuck.”

“—a branch,” Geralt finished lamely.

“You know, if you just carried me, that would be much less painful for all parties involved,” Jaskier complained, rubbing at his cheek where the branch had caught.

“I need my hands free,” Geralt repeated, as he had the other two times Jaskier had suggested it—the first jokingly, the second, so what if he wanted to feel a little like a damsel in distress?

“Well, there has to be a better way to do this,” Jaskier said crossly. “Instead of you warning me two seconds too late and me gaining numerous cuts and bruises.” Plus, he didn’t say, he was scared at their slow progress. The creature was still out there, tracking them, and it made his skin tingle with goosebumps to think that it was watching him stumble around like a fool, easy prey.

Geralt sighed, stopping in his tracks—something Jaskier discovered when he ran into his back with a small oof. “Here,” Geralt said. Jaskier felt something prodding at his hand—Geralt’s own gloved hand, twining between his fingers.

It did make Jaskier feel some small measure better, the assurance that Geralt was right there with him, even if he couldn’t see him.

“Much better,” he proclaimed, gripping Geralt’s hand tightly.

“Hmm.”

They continued through the forest, twigs snapping underneath Jaskier’s clumsy strides, but there were considerably fewer injuries on his part—with little tugs to his hand here and there, Geralt directed him around the worst of the obstacles in their path.

Jaskier couldn’t tell how far along they were, but it felt like a couple hundred paces later when he heard it. A crack, a snap, a scrape—something was behind them. He broke out into a cold sweat.

“Geralt,” he said tremulously, though of course Geralt had heard it. He’d probably heard it long before Jaskier, even.

“I know,” Geralt said, though he reassured Jaskier with a quick squeeze of his hand. “Don’t turn around. Keep the blindfold on.”

Jaskier swallowed. “Right. Easy. Just don’t look.”

“Just don’t look,” Geralt confirmed. “It can’t hurt you yet.”

Jaskier laughed, a wild, panicked thing. “That’s really not comforting.” His feet itched to go faster, faster, to outrun the thing slowly hunting them down.

“Easy,” Geralt murmured, like he did to Roach sometimes when she spooked. Jaskier would be annoyed, had he any room for emotions beyond terror.

“Mhm, look how calm I am. I’m totally calm. See how totally calm I am?” Jaskier rambled. “Definitely not thinking about how a terrifying massive monster twenty feet behind me could rip me to shreds at any moment.”

“It wouldn’t. They prefer to feed slowly.”

If Jaskier’s right hand were free he might have punched the witcher.

“Keep talking,” Geralt suddenly urged, such an odd request that it fully knocked Jaskier out of his terrified thoughts for a second. “Tell me about the song you’re working on right now.”

“Erm, well…” Jaskier began, then cleared the tremors from his voice. “It’s—it’s a canso, an adaptation of Master Osterwitt’s second collection of love poems…” He described the song so far, how he’d split it into four verses to complement the theme of the four seasons the poet lived through, how he’d altered the slant rhymes to be more accessible to the public listener, how he’d started out composing for lute but had then switched to harp, and was planning on presenting it to the famed Johanna of Murivel if she wished to perform it at the Oxenfurt Yule festival.

As he talked, he realized that the soft grass beneath his boots was thinning, giving way to the pebbled ground of the road into town. “Geralt? Are we almost there?” he asked, aching to rip the blindfold away and see the blessed sight of a town lit by lanterns and candles.

“Nearly. Don’t stop,” Geralt instructed, tugging him forward.

Pebbles scattered underneath Jaskier’s boots, their hiss and rattle covering up the sounds of the slavering beast behind them. He felt his heels tread upon wooden planks, and then heard the swing of the inn door on its hinges, followed by a wave of warmth caressing his face. It felt like safety given form.

Geralt led him forward, whatever crowd there may have been parting easily beneath the witcher’s gaze, as it always did without Jaskier there to grease the wheels of social interaction.

“Steps, thirteen of them,” Geralt instructed, pausing for a moment until Jaskier tentatively lifted his foot and began to climb.

“Can’t I just—” Jaskier started to ask, swiftly cut off by Geralt.

“No. Don’t take it off, not until it’s dead.”

Jaskier swallowed heavily. “You’re—you’re going back out there, aren’t you.”

“Yes.” Another door swinging open, this one to their room, judging by the acoustics. Geralt nudged Jaskier forward until his shins hit the soft give of a mattress, then pushed lightly on his shoulders until Jaskier turned and sat. “Stay here.”

Jaskier knew there was no use in arguing or begging Geralt to stay—yet he wanted to anyway. Instead, he looked up to where Geralt’s face would be and smiled wanly. “Be safe,” he said, as he always did whenever they parted.

“Stay here,” Geralt repeated, and then his heavy boots walked off, leaving Jaskier alone in the darkness, with nothing to do but wait for his return.

He breathed in deeply, then out, then swung his legs up onto the bed and settled back against the wall, fingers itching for his lute or his songbook. He knew it would only make a mess of things if he stumbled around like a drunkard trying to find his things, though, so he sat and composed rhymes in his head, sketching out the beginnings of today’s tale—a creature fed by fear, a brave bard its prey…

Ten minutes had perhaps passed when a voice suddenly rose from the distance. “Jaskier!”

“Geralt?” Jaskier quickly stood, shuffle-feeling his way towards the window and wrenching it open. He shivered in the cool breeze that filtered in. “Geralt!”

He was sure that had been Geralt’s voice. He’d know it anywhere, gravelly and deep, yet always with an undercurrent of kindness.

Only the hoot of an owl met his call. Jaskier waited, tense, the hair on the back of his neck prickling like someone was watching him. Paranoia rose inside of him. Had Geralt shut the door behind him when he left? Anyone or anything could have entered the room without Jaskier even knowing. What if there was someone right there behind him, watching, able to just reach out and—

Jaskier whirled around, breath caught in his throat, and blindly lashed out. His hands met nothing but air.

Of course. He was only being stupid, getting caught up in his own mind. Of course there was nobody there, and he’d probably imagined Geralt’s voice too, just his mind playing tricks on him in his naked desperation for Geralt to return.

Jaskier took another deep breath and turned around to shut the window, when suddenly another cry split the night. “Jaskier!”

He hadn’t imagined that. “Geralt!” he called, half-strangled and laced with panic.

“Jaskier, help!” Geralt yelled, more fear and pain in his voice than Jaskier had ever heard before, and it sent ice straight through his heart. Oh, gods, Geralt was out there alone with the creature, likely wounded, maybe even dying!

Uncaring of how he stubbed his toes and sent things toppling over, Jaskier felt around the room until he felt the rough canvas of Geralt’s pack beneath his fingers. He almost ripped it open in his haste to dig out the sack of vials and bottles, valuable potions that Jaskier knew could save him from even the most gruesome wounds.

“Geralt, I’m coming!” Jaskier screamed, unsure if the witcher could even hear him. He stumbled gracelessly to his feet and down the stairs, the bag of potions clinking in his rough grip, like the bells that heralded newcomers to the afterlife.

“The door, where’s the door?” he pleaded to whomever was nearest him, not caring if he looked like a crazed man. Geralt needed him.

“What—this way, it’s this way,” a female voice guided him, and he stumbled in her direction, until he felt carved wood beneath his fingers and pushed the door open.

“Geralt!” he yelled again, running forward and nearly tripping over his own boots. Which direction, which direction?

“Jaskier! Here!” he heard distantly, somewhere to his left. He adjusted course, diving into the forest without a care for how branches whipped at his face and hands.

“I’m coming! Keep—keep talking, I don’t know where—” Jaskier shouted, then tripped over a rock and fell harshly to the ground. His palms scraped against rock, stinging and bringing tears of pain to his eyes. He scrambled back up.

“Jaskier!” Geralt screamed again, followed by an almost wordless howl, a pure vocalization of anguish and pain. Jaskier wanted to vomit.

They prefer to feed slowly echoed in Jaskier’s mind. “I’m coming, I’m coming,” Jaskier chanted, propelling himself forward until all he could feel was the beat of his feet against the ground and his heart against his ribs.

“Jaskier!” Another shout, this one echoing from behind him. Jaskier skidded to a stop. Had he gone too far? Fuck, fuck, valuable time was running out— “Jaskier, no!”

No what? “Geralt! Where are you?!” Jaskier shouted back, turning around but remaining planted in place, now filled with uncertainty. What a stupid plan this had been, running headlong into the forest blind with no thoughts except to find Geralt.

“Jaskier! I’m here, Jaskier!” This time coming from behind him again. Jaskier whirled around and started running, but only got two paces before Geralt shouted again from the opposite direction. “Jaskier, come here!”

There were two distinct, separate voices. One behind him, one in front of him. Both urgent, both calling to him. And he had no way of knowing which was the real one.

One was certainly the monster, or else some dark magic of some kind. Jaskier had heard of no spells nor creatures that could do such a thing, but there were many new and terrifying things in the world he encountered every day. The other might have been the real Geralt, or might have been another trick.

Perhaps the real Geralt had already bled out onto the forest floor. Perhaps the creature had killed him, fed on his soul, and stolen his voice, sharing it among others of its kind. Perhaps the only evidence Geralt had ever lived at all would be the echo of his stolen voice endlessly passed around by evil, hungry creatures.

“Jaskier! Jaskier!”

Jaskier sobbed once, pressing the palm of his hand into his mouth to muffle any further sounds. He would never know. He could never know.

“Jaskier! Help, please, help—”

“Jaskier! Get away from it, run!”

“Jaskier! This way, run, come here—”

Jaskier screamed, an explosion of sound tearing its way out of his throat. He jammed his hands over his ears and sank to his knees, Geralt’s endless cries still echoing around him, slightly muted but not enough to matter.

“No, no, no,” Jaskier sobbed, bending double over his knees, pressing his forehead to the mossy ground. “Please, stop!”

Over and over the voices cried out. Jaskier's mind was a whirl of sound and fear bouncing endlessly. He quaked where he knelt. He waited for his end.

There was no telling how much time had passed, if it had passed at all—if Jaskier had simply existed in a perpetual loop forever. Something touched the back of his neck, and it was enough to propel him out of his spiral of doom into action. Self-preservation and animal instinct won, and Jaskier scrambled backwards until his back slammed into a boulder. He stayed there cringing, expecting to feel death’s embrace, but nothing touched him again.

“Jaskier?”

Gods, no. Let it be over. Please let it be over, he couldn’t take any more of this—

“Jaskier, it’s me. The creature is dead.”

“It’s—it’s—it’s not you, it’s—it can’t—” Jaskier stuttered, his hands still clamped tightly over his ears. “It’s not you!”

Something crunched closer over the leaves. Jaskier’s breath caught. Something touched his face—

The blindfold fell from his eyes, cool night air rushing in and making his eyes water, but Jaskier kept them tightly closed. If he didn’t look, it couldn’t hurt him. If he couldn’t see it, it couldn’t hurt him. That was what Geralt—that was what he’d said, the very last time Jaskier ever saw him—would ever see him—

“Jaskier, open your eyes. It’s alright.”

It sounded like Geralt. It sounded just like Geralt, tired from a hunt but safe, whole, right in front of Jaskier.

If Jaskier was going to die, he decided, he wanted to do it with his eyes open, not cringing on the forest floor with his eyes shut. He forced them open, bracing for the worst.

In front of him was Geralt. Geralt, unharmed, spattered with black ichor, but whole and safe and in front of him. “G-Geralt?” Jaskier asked tremulously. This wasn’t another trick, was it?

He didn’t care if it was. He didn’t care if they were both dead. Jaskier threw himself forward into Geralt’s waiting arms, clinging to solid, warm flesh. He was openly crying, now, tears streaming down his face and clutching desperately at Geralt’s armor, his hair, his shirt, everything his could reach.

“It’s okay, Jaskier. I killed it. You’re safe.” Geralt’s voice, his real voice, rumbled against the shell of Jaskier’s ear, and Jaskier could have wept to hear it if he weren’t already weeping.

“It—it—I heard—” Jaskier tried, but couldn’t gather coherent thought enough to finish.

“I know,” Geralt comforted. “It can mimic. I should have warned you.” A deep sigh, one that ruffled Jaskier’s hair. “Should have known you’d come after me.”

“It—you were hurt, you called for help,” Jaskier explained pathetically. Geralt sighed again.

“That explains why half my potion bottles are smashed.” Jaskier tensed up again, and Geralt clutched him closer. “It’s alright, I can make more. But don’t ever come after me again. If I die, I die. Don’t die too.”

Jaskier forced out a bitter laugh. “I think you know that’s not happening. I’ll always come for you. Always.”

“Hmm.” Geralt wasn’t pleased, but Jaskier couldn’t have been happier. As long as his witcher was alive, Jaskier would always be happy. “Come on. Back to the inn, so I can get paid.” He gathered Jaskier up and abruptly lifted him, carrying him exactly like a damsel in distress.

Jaskier was quite content to be carried to the inn like that, until Geralt stooped down to grab something else. Something that squelched. “What--?” Jaskier started to ask, then blanched. The monster’s head. He slammed his eyes shut, tucking his head into Geralt’s shoulder. Don’t look. Don’t look.

“Jaskier.” Geralt jostled his shoulder a little nudging Jaskier out. “Look at it. It’s alright.”

Jaskier shook his head.

“I killed it,” Geralt explained patiently. “There’s no need for fear. This will help.”

Reluctantly, Jaskier peeled his eyes open, taking a few fortifying breaths. Then he looked, curiosity winning out.

It was… small. That was Jaskier’s first thought. About the size of an apple, partially covered in fur, bloodied, but surprisingly… underwhelming. No wicked teeth or crazed eyes. No sharp claws or poisonous fangs. Just… dead.

“It’s… it’s dead,” Jaskier said, feeling something deep inside him release. “You killed it, and it’s dead.”

“Yes.” Then Geralt bent, slung it over his shoulder, and continued on. “You don’t need to fear it anymore.”

Jaskier had been scared for so long, it felt like he didn’t know any other way to be. He was very tired, wrung out, and ready to spend a solid week in Geralt’s arms. They were both alive, the monster was dead, and they were on the way back to the inn.

Nothing else mattered.

#lol the title is Don't Look you can look at this post it's okay #the witcher #geraskier #jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geralt #geralt of rivia #the witcher fanfiction

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kittynannygaming · 3 months ago

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How do you feel about it? Are you a Jaskier is the only damsel in distress or do you like them to switch off being the damsel in distress?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

BAMF!Jaskier for the win!

I love it when he's the damsel in distress but sometimes, it's nice for the Witchers to remember that Jaskier can be/will be a force to be reckoned with. After all, he's the sandpiper, it's nothing to sneeze at!

#KittyNanny Original Post #Ask & Answer #The Witcher #Jaskier

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estethell · 3 months ago

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How do you feel about it? Are you a Jaskier is the only damsel in distress or do you like them to switch off being the damsel in distress?

*Asks are sent for fun, no pressure to answer.

Ciaoooo :D Thanks for asking this cute question, it's always nice to talk about the ships we love!!

I love this ship because I love how Jaskier is so adorable while Geralt is all serious and grumpy, but still has a soft heart and goes out of his way to help his friends. I love it when Geralt saves Jaskier and Jaskier is all in a hurry to thank him and adore him while Geralt is all annoyed (but secretly relieved), and when Jaskier saves Geralt and is very proud while Geralt is annoyed (Geralt is always annoyed LoL).

I felt so bad when they fought, I really saw Jaskier's heart break when Geralt yelled at him, and I really loved Jaskier's song in the tavern, you could tell he wasn't over it!

In conclusion, I love this couple because Geralt always seems so bored of Jaskier (but in reality he adores him and I suspect he smiles secretly), while Jaskier literally wags his tail for Geralt (obviously this is how I understand the couple, my personal opinion, don't pay attention to it if you don't agree)!

#ask #amloveabledeathmo #the witcher #gerald of rivia #jaskier #geraskier

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thedemonofcat · 7 months ago

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Jaskier didn't often get the chance to play the hero, but once he did, rescuing a woman from a perilous situation. As it turned out, this woman wasn't just any damsel in distress—she was a mystical deity with considerable power.

Impressed by Jaskier's act of bravery, she took a liking to him and decided to reward him by granting him immortality, along with the ability to see the future.

However, there was a catch: Jaskier couldn't control his newfound power, and the visions came at random, overwhelming him and driving him gradually insane.

Fortunately, Geralt stumbled upon Jaskier just as the bard was having a public meltdown due to a particularly intense vision. Now, Geralt must find a way to strip Jaskier of this uncontrollable power before it completely shatters his bard's sanity.

#the witcher netflix #the witcher #geralt of rivia #joey batey #jaskier the witcher #henry cavill #the witcher jaskier #geralt x jaskier #geraskier #fic ideas #jaskier #gerskier #cirilla fiona elen riannon #freya allan #headcanon #yennefer of vengerberg #the witcher season 3 #the witcher season three #anya chalotra

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bardcore-jaskier · 2 years ago

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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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