Here’s the thing:
Jaskier doesn’t have a horse. I mean yeah, technically he has Pegasus but in nw and most fanon media he doesn’t. The man walks at the same pace as a horse every day for twenty years. And I’m sure Geralt let him put SOME things on Roach, but probably not much. She’s Geralt’s horse and needs to carry his things AND Geralt, no one wants her to be over extended with bard stuff. So that means Jaskier carries all his stuff himself which is AT MINIMUM, his lute, notebooks, probably like 3 sets of relatively complex performing outfits and road clothes, all his fancy cosmetic stuff, a bedroll, and his METAL coin money. He also probably has first aid things like bandages and potions, frivolous things like baubles and jewelry, food, water, and probably other bard stuff like spare strings and such.
Yeah, Jask is depicted as traveling without bags but that’s just not possible. He probably carries his own essentials and as someone who backpacks— that alone is usually 20+ lbs. WITH modern technology aimed at making things lighter. Thats not counting all the fancy stuff he’s prone to and his career tools. Jaskier is probably hauling like 40-50lbs or more of stuff EVERY DAY while mostly roughing it off the land and keeping pace with a man on horseback. Oh, and this is WHILE SINGING AND TALKING the entire time. Can you imagine this man’s lung capacity? To sing and talk constantly while exerting himself?
This is all to say: Jaskier is strong as fuck and fit as hell. The thing is though, he probably doesn’t even recognize it. Yeah, he probably knows he’s got the muscle and such, but he still is largely perceived as a delicate person. He PROJECTS being delicate. Being fragile and pampered and in need of the finer things. He projects capable, but not strong. This. Is. Hilarious.
Jaskier, having already walked 12 miles at a moderate incline carrying 40lbs of stuff without breaking a sweat (it’s barely past midday): Geralt I am FRAGILE. I cannot POSSIBLY walk through this mud. (It’s like a 3 ft section) I’m not a rugged mountain man like you, I’m simply not BUILT for this!
Geralt, staring at Jaskier who’s as burly as most Witchers and has walked the path w/o Witcher training for over a decade: hm
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♡ wip wednesday
summary: angsty, whumpy, no real resolution, 700ish words
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“You will do what you are told!” shouted Geralt.
“There it is,” Jaskier said quietly, stepping back, leaves crunching under his foot. The forest was quiet as he swallowed, adam’s apple bobbing. The silence was suddenly deafening, the peace in the dappled light of the forest like an unwelcome, scratchy blanket.
Geralt’s breath came short and fast in his chest, a rabbit’s pace that matched the speed of his heart. “What?”
“I will do what I’m told,” chuckled Jaskier. He flickered between Geralt’s eyes like he was searching for something. “I really am your whore, huh? For everything except… well, except whoring.”
Geralt blinked, anger rising up in him again. “I don’t–”
“If not, then one step above,” Jaskier snapped suddenly, fire flaring back up in his eyes. “You know nothing of friendship. Friendship is not this, this…” he spluttered for a moment. “Weighted give and take. I give you everything, Geralt, my care, my coin, my humiliation, all for what? A couple of songs? I could write a dozen ditties about the Countess and be brimming with riches within the week.”
Geralt’s face heated. He’d pondered that before, how attractive the thought of running off to some noble must seem to Jaskier, being surrounded by lovely adorers every minute, draped in fancy clothes and fed with all the fruit and meat he desired. How dismal travelling with Geralt must seem compared to that reachable paradise.
“You think saving me from your monsters is payment,” Jaskier spat. “And perhaps it is. For playing at bars where every drunk blacksmith paws at me like a whore just to pay for our meals.”
Geralt flinched.
“And maybe your protection covers the work I’ve done to fix your reputation,” he continued, eyes blazing. “And if we’re being generous, it probably also covers the beatings I’ve taken for what I couldn’t fix.”
Beatings. Geralt had never thought… sometimes Jaskier would come back from a night somewhere away from their shared room covered with bruises and stumbling like a drunk. Oh, I just found a convenient ditch to rest my head in for the night, don’t worry your pretty little head about it. Lying. He’d been lying.
“But what your protection does not cover, Geralt,” Jaskier snapped, “is the things I have paid to earn your friendship instead. Cleaning your armour. Stitching your wounds. Buying you things at the market just to cheer you up.”
Geralt swallowed. He opened his mouth.
Jaskier’s eyebrow quirked up, a challenge.
He shut it again. It was unfair, asking him to battle words with Jaskier, a man who played with them for a living. Especially when he couldn’t figure out the feelings to inspire the words in the first place.
“The witcher’s whore,” Jaskier repeated quietly, like he was testing the words in his mouth or telling a story. “Does what he’s told.”
Geralt stepped closer, growling under his breath. "Stop."
Jaskier would have normally backed down. De-escalated things with a joke, but today his chin jutted upward. Today fire brimmed in those blue eyes. "Yes sir," he bit out.
“Jaskier," he warned.
"General Geralt, sir," he continued. "My most excellent warlord!"
"Stop."
"Oh great Butcher-"
Something snapped, the words torn out of him: "Fucking stop!"
“Oh, yes, master,” mocked Jaskier, equally as loud, hand flourishing like he was about to bow.
Geralt’s face heated even more, helpless anger clawing at him. It felt wrong. Everything felt wrong - the skin on his body, the woods crashing with wind around them. “Jaskier, I am not your master, you are not my whore, I–”
“You like it,” he snarled, bitter like gin. “You like being the man in charge, the martyr at the head of the battle. So much responsibility, and oh, only you can bear it.”
“Jaskier.”
Jaskier snapped down into a full bow, hand across his pleated red chest. “Yes, sir! Am I dismissed, sir?”
“Stop it.”
“Yes sir, of course sir,” he mocked, looking to the ground as if chastised.
Geralt let out a frustrated growl, somewhere between a cry of anguish and a sob.
“Shall I clean your boots, sir?” Jaskier snapped, eyes glinting through his hair as he looked up, still half-bent into a bow. “Your armour? Shall I find you another whore to spend the night with?”
Geralt marched forward, vibrating with anger. “Fucking stop,” he growled, close to shouting. “Just– just stop–”
“Apologies, sir, I’ll do better, shall I take your belt for lashings?”
“Fucking hell, Jaskier!” Geralt grabbed his shoulders, determined to shake out whatever the fuck was making him talk that way.
Jaskier pulled his collar into his hands and kissed him.
Geralt had good reflexes and bad instincts. He pressed into it without a moment’s hesitation, drowning in Jaskier’s scent, the feeling of his soft lips opening to him, the warmth of his body pressed against his own.
Jaskier broke it, leaning back only an inch. “There,” he whispered. “Now you can take that from me too.”
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I'll probably never finish this, but i like where it was going!
♡icarus
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My unwanted live thoughts from “Everybody Has a Plan ‘til They Get Punched in the Face”
1. Why did the mages just let the guards take them
2. Why didn't Geralt kill Dijkstra
3. Why didn't Tissaia stop Vilgefortz from opening the stone portal. She didn’t have to kill him, could’ve just thrown him around a bit.
4. “We need to get to the Chain Ferry” BITCH YOUR A SORCERESS JUST PORTAL?! YOU DIDN'T DO A DAMN THING AT ARETUZA YOU'RE NOT DRAINED
5. There is no way that double-bladed sword meant for two is convenient. Cool, but absolutely a death wish.
6. "Can you cast a portal" "not until we get away from Tor Lara" *vilgefortz 10 seconds ago: casts a portal*
7. This episode was just "Who the fuck is this bitch" x10. Artaud? Don’t know him. Marti? Don’t know her. Dude who’s having a heart attack? Don’t even remember his name.
8. Cahir redemption completely undeserved. What the fuck is going on with this man? Did he go crazy?! Also is "I will find you" supposed to be comforting? If she wants you dead you will be dead.
9. How did a bunch of people with swords and arrows kill motherfucking sorcerers?
10. Don’t understand why Vilgefortz fought Geralt with his stick and not magic, but you do you ig. It worked so
11. Why did Vilgefortz let Geralt go? After his speech about wanting the freedom to kill anyone (you’re not special, anyone can be a murderer) and how Geralt will be his warning to the continent, you’d think he’d actually do it.
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