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.
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Happy Valentine's Day @artsy-azure ! Here's your gift for the @milgram-valentines-exchange 💖
Fuuta x Minato (oc) ~ The first section takes place right after his T2 interrogation, and then skips ahead to a tiny post-milgram scene :3 I hope you enjoy!
Fuuta thought he would drown. Not sink into water or anything like that; he was worried the voices filling his mind would completely suffocate him. There were too many of them. Too many people, all of them knowing every dark corner of his mind, and shouting into it. It should have been impossible for one voice – one softer than all the rest – to reach him.
Then again, everything about that voice should have been impossible.
“Fuuta… Hey, Fuuta… Are you alright?”
He blinked. He scrambled over to the nearest wall. There were no visible openings in the cell, not a single imperfection across any of the surfaces, yet Milgram’s intercom system functioned just fine. Most days it would just deliver the ear-rattling bell to tell him the time. On bad days, it carried Es’ summons to the interrogation room for his extraction. On worse days, it carried Es’ summons to the courtroom for his verdict.
On the very best days, it would bring him the voice of Hoshizawa Minato.
(Though, seeing as he had just returned from a catastrophic extraction, he wasn’t sure what type of day it was yet.)
He tore his attention away from the chorus of judgements and insults. He pressed his shoulder against the wall, still unsure where the sound was coming from, but knowing it was nearby.
“I’m here,” he said, hushed. More than anything he wanted to yell and scream, but he would never risk it, now. Minato had gone through a hell of a lot to break into Milgram’s systems, and he wouldn’t let his big mouth ruin all that. It had already ruined just about everything else.
“How are you holding up?”
Fuuta pressed his lips together. “Any news on getting us out of here?” was all he said.
Hundreds of miles away (or perhaps next door – neither of them could really know), Minato’s fingers adjusted his headset.
“I’m still working on it. These things take time.”
“I’m definitely gonna need it after today.”
“Your interrogation… I know.”
Fuuta pulled his hood down tighter, tufts of ginger hair ruffling underneath. “How much did you see?”
Minato’s eyes flicked over to another monitor. It displayed the files he’d gained access to a few hours prior. It would crush Fuuta to hear about yet another person peeking into his personal moments, so he opted for a non-answer.
“I don’t have cameras. I don’t see much at all.”
“Tch, I’m not a damn idiot, I know that! I meant, how much did you hear?”
“...Everything.”
Fuuta squeezed his eye shut. He bit a curse back. There came silence.
Minato actually double checked some of his monitors, making sure they hadn’t been disconnected.
“So then, you know,” Fuuta said at last. “There’s no fucking way I’m getting forgiven this time around.”
“You can’t be so sure. The–”
“No one in their right mind would forgive me after that.” He winced, remembering his harsh cries at the end of the interrogation. What kind of accused murderer shouted “I’ll kill you” as their plea of innocence? When he wasn’t running his mouth with threats, he’d been pleading with Es like some kind of coward. And Minato has heard all of it. Fuuta could only imagine the horrors that the extraction held. Who could forgive him after they saw his anger, or worse, his pleasure? Who could ever look kindly on someone like that?
“I would.”
Fuuta’s eyes widened. He let himself sink further into the wall. A strangled laugh escaped him. He let his head hang down. No matter how much he wanted to protest, Minato was as honest as they come. If he said he forgave Fuuta, he meant it.
“Yeah, like I said, no one in their right mind.”
Minato cracked a smile.
“You don’t think I’m in my right mind?”
Fuuta scoffed. “You post pictures of clothes for a living. And in your free time, you plan impossible jailbreaks for murderers. Doesn’t sound quite sane to me.”
“Aw, come on. Do you think it’s impossible?”
Minato was still smirking, ready for some more of their typical back and forth. Fuuta surprised him by pausing.
“Well, it should be impossible. But…”
They’d been speaking for some time now. Whether it was quick comments when Es wasn’t around or long conversations into the night. Fuuta had seen many sides of him, and knew that he had what it took. He wasn’t like the vast majority of internet personalities – weak or needy or inexperienced. He’d proved himself time and time again. If anyone could pull this off, it would be Minato.
“If it’s you… there’s a chance.”
“You’ve got that right. You can count on me, alright?”
Fuuta took a deep breath. The tightness of the uniform and the bandages seemed to lessen.
“Although,” Minato put on a falsely serious voice, “we’re gonna have a long talk when you get out… about that yellow jacket you own.”
“Haaah? What’s wrong with my jacket?’
“There are a hundred stylish ways to wear it and that was not one.”
“The fuck does that mean?”
“You’ll be grateful when someone who ‘posts pictures of clothes for a living’ helps with your wardrobe.”
Fuuta could feel his chest release even more. Minato spoke so easily about the future, as if it were something real and waiting for him.
“As if I’d let you touch any of my outfits.”
“As if you could stop me!”
He took another breath. He smiled. No drowning today.
---
After checking the clock fourteen times, Fuuta thought once more couldn’t hurt. It was still two minutes to noon, just like the last few times he’d checked. His frequent checking hadn’t brought the train to the station any faster.
Minato had told him that he was safe. He’d said this meeting wasn’t that big of a risk. The dust had settled. He just had to relax.
The announcement overhead signaled the next stop was his. It screeched into the station, a slight murmur rising as the doors opened onto a platform of moving people.
Fuuta lowered his head. His eyepatch would surely draw attention to himself, so he kept his hood down and his mask up. He just needed to make it to the station entrance.
He made his way around stiff businessmen and sticky children. He tried to shuffle around a young man, but he seemed to step further into Fuuta’s path. Giving the stranger a quick glance, he started to mumble something to squeeze past.
“Fuuta,” the man said, gaping in surprise. “It’s me.”
He inhaled sharply.
It was only three words, but it was enough to recognize his voice from a thousand conversations.
Fuuta’s eye widened as he took Minato in. It was strange to finally see his face. Finally, here was the person he’d spent hours talking to. The person he’d spent days passing the time with. The person he’d spent nights falling for. Here was the one who had saved his life, in more ways than he could count.
His first observation was, fuck, this guy is way outta my league. His next was, he’s shorter than I was expecting. Then, gah, I’m probably shorter than he was expecting. He was in the middle of realizing, he has the nicest smile I think I’ve ever seen, when Minato crushed him in a hug.
Fuuta returned the embrace. His arms tightened around Minato. He was real. He was here. Fuuta’s hands grasped at his clothes and his hair. He was unable to control a laugh bubbling up inside of him.
“You did it. My god, you did it.”
He breathed into Minato’s shoulder. His chest shook with some laughter, some tears.
For a moment wondered if people would notice the heartfelt reunion outside of the train, then he realized he didn’t care in the slightest.
Minato was laughing along with him in that beautiful, familiar voice of his. No more crackling speakers or hidden intercoms – he spoke right into his ear, hair tickling his cheek. Fuuta could have stayed forever in his arms, just like that. All that mattered was he felt safe. At last, he felt happy.
Talk about impossible.
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