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pikapeppa · 4 years

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Cullen/Lavellan smut: Plan

HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO @schoute, MY DEAR LOVE AND SOULMATE!! The best way to tell your friends you love them is to throw smut at them, right? This is normal. 😂

~4300 words; read on AO3 instead.

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Dorian chuckled and folded his arms. “... and that’s how our dear Captain Rylen ended up getting a sand rash where no man should ever get such a rash. But I digress. The point is that if you wear that armour to the party, Piper will have you thrown out.”

Cullen shot Dorian a resentful look. The Tevinter mage was sitting on the edge of his desk. Cullen didn’t understand why so many people seemed to think they could sit on his desk when they came to see him. First it was Rynne Hawke, and now it was Dorian, and there was that one time that Sera had actually perched on his desk like an overgrown blonde raven. It was completely unacceptable.

There was only one person that Cullen didn’t mind sitting on his desk, and that person was the one who was under discussion right now.

“Piper won’t throw me out of the Herald’s Rest for wearing armour to the party,” he said.

Dorian waved him off. “She clearly and specifically stated that she would eject anyone from the Herald’s Rest who wore armour to the party tonight, by force if necessary,” he said. “The notice on the announcement board says, and I quote—”

“I read the notice,” Cullen muttered.

Dorian blithely carried on. “‘No armour, no swords, and no shoes allowed, or you’ll get no fucking drinks.’” He chuckled. “Very pithy, our Inquisitor is.”

Cullen stared at him in surprise. “No shoes? Was that a recent addition?”

“As of an hour ago, I believe,” Dorian said.

Piper, he thought in exasperation. He frowned at Dorian. “I am not going into the Herald’s Rest barefoot. And the Inquisitor will not throw me out for wearing shoes.”

Dorian tutted. “Nepotism. I see how it is. Suit yourself.” He inspected his nails and didn’t move.

Cullen gazed at him expectantly. Dorian didn’t say anything further, but he also wasn’t making any moves to leave.

“Was there something else you wanted?” Cullen said impatiently.

Dorian looked up from his cuticles. “I thought you wanted to run your party outfit past me.”

Cullen’s eyebrows shot up. “Why would I–” He faltered, then scowled at Dorian and rose from his chair. “I am capable of dressing myself without your input. Now if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t finished reading these reports.”

Dorian glanced at the papers on Cullen’s desk. “It’s past sunset. Don’t you ever rest?”

“Dorian,” Cullen said firmly, “get out. Now.”

Dorian huffed and rose gracefully from his seat on the desk. “That’s rather ungrateful, all things considered, but when the commander barks…” He drifted toward the door, and Cullen sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He was being quite ungrateful, given Dorian’s assistance picking out the textiles for Piper’s birthday gift.

“Thank you for your assistance with the gift,” he said sincerely. “I am truly grateful.”

Dorian paused at the door and shot him a small smile. “You’re very welcome. They look wonderful, by the way. She’ll love them.”

Cullen smiled faintly in return. “I hope so.”

“She will,” Dorian said confidently. “I haven’t a doubt.” He left Cullen’s office and closed the door behind him.

Cullen sighed, then sat at his desk and picked up Rylen’s latest report. But when a minute passed with Cullen blankly rereading the same sentence three times in a row, he finally gave up trying to do any further work for the night.

He glanced at the clock that Dagna had made for him back at Kinloch Hold. The party would be starting in just over an hour, which meant Piper would be here to drag him to the tavern in less than an hour. He really ought to get ready.

He sighed and rubbed his face, then stood up and began removing his armour. When he was down to his trousers, he went over the basin and mirror in the corner to shave. As he scraped the razor along his cheeks and neck, he mentally ran through the casual clothing he had in his armoire on the upper level.

He owned seven shirts and four pairs of trousers. A substandard wardrobe for someone like Dorian, perhaps, but it was more clothing than the average Templar owned, and it was more than serviceable for Cullen’s everyday duties. But tonight was Piper’s birthday party, and as galling as it might be for Cullen to admit, Dorian had a point: armour was not the appropriate garb for a celebratory occasion. Not even if the celebration was, in Piper’s words, ‘really just a massive fucking excuse to get all of Skyhold pissing drunk’.

But none of the shirts that Cullen owned were particularly appropriate for a celebration, either. They were all simple cotton shirts, long-sleeved and loose enough for movement without being so loose that they were bulky when layered beneath a set of armour. The only difference among the shirts was that some of them weren’t a plain cream colour. One of them was a reddish-rust sort of colour, and one of them was green. There was also the plaidweave training vest that Piper had bought for him, but that most certainly wasn’t the appropriate garb for a party. He supposed he could wear the formal coat that he’d worn at the Winter Palace, but that wasn’t much better than his armour.

At least, he didn’t think it was much better than his armour.

Perhaps he should have asked Dorian to inspect his wardrobe after all.

He sighed again, then roughly rinsed his clean-shaven face and sat heavily in his chair, and for a moment he just sat there thinking about his blasted shirts. Would cream be better than green, or perhaps the green would appear more festive?

Eventually, however, he was forced to admit that his clothing was not the only reason he was feeling nervous.

He glanced shiftily at his desk drawer, then opened it and pulled out the flat rectangular box that lay within. Then, for the third time today, he opened the box and critically inspected Piper’s birthday gift.

He really shouldn’t be nervous about this gift; a number of people had been involved in its design and crafting, including Dorian, Sera, Dagna and Harritt, and all of them were convinced that Piper would love the result. But Cullen had never given Piper a gift before — not beyond his lucky coin, at least. Piper, on the other hand, was always bringing and sending him gifts and souvenirs from her travels: exotic pressed flowers and local snacks and high-quality Tevinter ink and a beautiful whetstone that she herself had engraved: P. L. + C. S. R. = ❤.

This was the first time Cullen was giving her a gift of his own making, and he hoped she would like it.

Maker’s breath, he dearly hoped he hadn’t gauged this wrong and that she would like it.

Someone banged on the door. Alarmed, Cullen scrambled to shove the gift back into his desk drawer, and a second later, the door flew open.

“Who’s ready to get shitfaced?” Piper announced cheerfully. “I know I — ooh, what have we got here?”

She was grinning and inspecting his naked chest. He nervously ran a hand through his hair. Blast, damn, he could feel his cheeks burning. “Piper! I — you’ve — I wasn’t expecting you so soon,” he stammered. “What are — I was, er…”

“Do tell, what were you doing sitting here in your office with no shirt on?” she said. Then she gasped. “Oh Commander. Were you doing something naughty in your chair while you waited for me? What was that you hid in your desk? Was it a copy of the Randy Dowager?” She skipped over to his desk.

“What? No!” he squawked. He instinctively placed a hand over the drawer. “There’s no Randy Dowager, and I wasn’t — there was nothing naughty happening.”

“Then why are you blushing?” she asked with a grin. “And why are you half-naked?”

“I was changing for your party!” he said defensively. “The one where you’ve forbidden armour, might I add.”

Her smile softened, and she patted his arm. “It’s all right, Cullen. I know what’s really going on here.”

He raised his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I know why you’re really half-naked,” she said. “You’re giving me a birthday present, aren’t you?”

His heart did a nervous little twist; she wasn’t wrong, but for some reason he didn’t feel ready to give her the gift just yet. But to his surprise, she gestured at his body. “You were doing something sexy for me, weren’t you? And then I came bursting in before you were ready?”

Her tone was teasing. Cullen opened his mouth to protest, but he stopped himself before he could speak. If Piper thought he’d been doing some sort of naughty routine, then he could delay showing her the gift until he was ready for her to see it.

He lifted his chin. “Yes,” he said.

Her face went slack with surprise. “What?”

“That’s right,” he said. “I was planning a… seduction routine, and you interrupted my plan.” He dearly hoped his neck didn’t look as warm as it felt.

Piper barked out a laugh. “I was joking! You – you weren’t really?”

“I was,” Cullen lied. “I was planning on…” He hesitated. Maker, this felt wrong to say, but he had no choice but to go on. “I was planning to be naked in my chair when you came in.”

Her eyes widened with interest. “Go on,” she said eagerly. “What next?”

“I was going to…” He took a bracing breath and rose from his chair, then stepped in front of her and crowded her back against the desk. “I was going to kiss you,” he said. “Might I continue with that part of the plan, even though you ruined the first part?”

She laughed brightly, but Cullen could see the heated spark in her brilliant hazel eyes. “You certainly can,” she said. “By all means, Commander, please carry out your naughty plan.”

He scoffed, then kissed her abruptly – a purposely hard kiss complete with a gentle nip of her lower lip, all the better to distract her from the drawer that she was leaning against. Fortunately, the distraction worked: Piper gasped at the nip of his teeth, then gripped his waist and thrust her tongue into his mouth, and Cullen’s body flared with a sudden rush of excitement at her obvious hunger.

She tilted her head and stroked his tongue with hers, and Cullen cupped the back of her neck and leaned shamelessly into her kiss. Then Piper’s fingers were stroking his cheek and threading through his hair, and he sighed happily as her nails grazed his scalp.

She leaned away from his lips. “You just shaved, didn’t you?” she breathed.

“I did,” he murmured. “I didn’t want to, er…” He cast around wildly for something naughty to say. “I didn’t want to scratch your thighs with my stubble,” he finally said.

She grinned, and to Cullen’s surprise and amusement, her cheeks turned faintly pink. “And why would your face be anywhere near my thighs, Commander?” she asked.

He stared at her cheeky smirk, then abruptly lifted her onto the desk and stepped between her legs. “Would you like me to tell you, or would you like me to show you?” he asked.

Piper’s face lit up even further, and Cullen winced; of course she was going to demand that he say it, now that he’d put the offer out there. Sure enough, she laughed throatily and trailed her finger down his chest. “I think I need you to say it,” she said. “I’m very innocent in all of this, you see. I think you need to spell out your plans for me.”

He pressed his lips together, then gathered his courage once more and lifted his chin. “Fine,” he said. “I’m going to take off your breeches and your smallclothes, and then I’m going to… to push your legs apart and put my mouth right... here.” He pressed his knuckle against the juncture of her thighs.

She gasped and jerked her hips, and Cullen’s manhood twitched at the sound. He gently kneaded the spot between her legs until she was restlessly twisting her hips, then lowered his lips to her ear.

He purposely dropped his voice. “I’ll place my mouth right here,” he murmured. “And then, Piper, I am going to kiss you here until you’re squirming on my desk.”

“Squirming, hm?” she panted. “And then what?”

She was smiling. Her cheeks were pink and she was rocking her hips toward his hand, but still she was giving him that signature cheeky smile.

He shook his head in amusement, then lifted his hand and brushed his thumb over her lips. “And then you’ll need to wait and see what happens next, you minx.”

She laughed breathily. “I’m not the minx this time! You are, with all this dirty talk. I’m so proud–” She broke off with a little cry: Cullen had abruptly pulled aside the deep-cut neckline of her shirt to take her nipple in his mouth.

“Fuck,” she gasped. She arched her spine and braced her hand on his desk, her other hand sliding into his hair to pull him more firmly to her breast, and Cullen curved his arm around her waist to pull her closer too. Her eagerness was bleeding into him, raising and stoking his lust with her every gasping breath, and as much as this little game may have begun as his desperate attempt to distract her, it had swiftly turned into so much more than a distraction: Piper was rolling her hips toward him and clutching his shoulder, and he was laving her nipple with his tongue while untucking her shirt from her breeches, and then her shirt was on the floor and she was pulling his hand toward her breast and his tongue was stroking the inside of her mouth…

He kissed her and impatiently untied her breeches, then started peeling her breeches down, and Piper panted fitfully and lifted her hips to help his efforts. “Cullen,” she whimpered.

He didn’t reply. He was too busy staring at the glory that awaited him between her legs. She was plump and slick and ready for so much more than just his kiss, and his manhood was throbbing like an eager beacon between his legs…

“Cullen,” she whined, and she lifted her hips toward him. “Put your mouth on me.”

He swallowed a rush of saliva and sat in his chair, then tenderly pushed her thighs apart before lifting his eyes to her face. “I’m doing this because it was part of my plan,” he said sternly. “Not because you have told me to.”

She grinned at him. “I don’t doubt it, Commander. You’re the naughty one here.”

He smirked at her irreverent tone, then lowered his face between her legs and slid his tongue from her cleft up to her swollen clit with one slow, thorough stroke of his tongue. By the time he was circling her clit with the tip of his tongue, she was already crying out and rocking her hips toward his face.

“F-fuck,” she gasped. “Fuck, Cullen, that’s – oh gods!”

He slowly and thoroughly kissed the fragrant flesh between her legs, then lifted his mouth and looked up at her. “Is everything all right?” he asked.

She burst out a breathless laugh, then moaned and twisted her hips. “You know it is, you big handsome jerk. Now keep going!”

He huffed and leaned away slightly. “Remind me, Piper, whose plan is this? Yours or mine?”

“Yours!” she burst out. “Yours, yours, it’s yours, all right? Just – fenedhis, just put your mouth on my pussy, please!”

He gave her a chiding look. “Only because you said ‘please’,” he said, and he placed another careful open-mouthed kiss between her legs.

She moaned and spread her legs wider, and Cullen closed his eyes as he savoured her earthy musk on his lips and her pleasured little whimpers in his ears. He reached up and smoothed his hand from her belly up to her breast, and when he palmed her breast and stroked her nipple with his thumb, she moaned and began to undulate her hips toward him more eagerly still.

“Cullen,” she mewled. “Gods, please, it feels so fucking good…”

Pleased by her pleasure, he lapped at her more eagerly still. A few frenzied heartbeats later, her pleasure crested and broke, and she cried out and threaded her fingers through his hair.

“Yes!” she cried. “Yes, yes, ah!” She rolled her hips toward him, and Cullen followed the cues of her body, lapping and kissing her voraciously until the wavelike rhythm of her body began to slow. He wiped his mouth carefully on his hand, then stood up and began unlacing his trousers.

“What are you doing now, Commander?” she asked.

Her voice was strained and breathless with pleasure, and Cullen looked her straight in the eye. “Now I’m going to push down my trousers,” he said. “And I am going to… to press myself inside of you until we are both extremely satisfied.”

She gasped in a raspy little breath and nodded. “Yes, yes, fuck me, that’s what I want!”

“I’m pleased to hear that,” he panted. He shoved his trousers down, then pulled her hips up to the edge of the desk and buried himself inside of her in one hard stroke.

She cried out and arched her back like a bow, and Cullen groaned in bliss. She was perfect, hot and tight and enveloping him like the most perfect sheath, and in all the rushed and frenzied heat of this impromptu ‘naughty plan’, he was too eager and riled and filled with lust to be patient. He pumped his hips eagerly, pushing his own pleasure higher with every lusty cry that poured from Piper’s lips.

Just as his climax began to build in the depths of his belly, he paused in his frenzied thrusting, and Piper mewled and scraped at his chest. “Cullen, don’t stop, don’t stop, keep fucking me hard–”

“I will,” he gasped. “I – give me a moment…” He swiftly looped his arm beneath her leg and hooked her knee over his arm, spreading her wider and angling her pelvis toward him, then slid into her once more.

She let another wild cry, and Cullen gasped in ecstasy before kissing her hard. With her body spread like this, he felt like he was delving even deeper inside of her, sliding sweetly and firmly through her glorious feminine depths, and Piper was crying out and running her nails over his scalp and pulling his head down toward her breast again–

He suckled her nipple and slammed into her hard, and she threw her head back. “Fuck!” she cried.

He moaned into her breast and thrust into her more eagerly than ever. The pleasure was thrumming through his veins and his throat and down through his calves, and when it finally peaked, his breathy groan of rapture was smothered against her perfect petite breast.

She clasped the back of his neck, and he squeezed his eyes shut and suckled her nipple until the blinding pleasure ebbed away to a boneless sort of peace. He finally lifted his mouth from her breast, then sighed happily and smiled at her.

Her face was flushed and dewy from their exertions, and she was beaming at him. “Happy fuckin’ birthday to me,” she said, and she burst out laughing.

Cullen let out a breathless little laugh. “Minx,” he accused.

She laughed more brightly still. Cullen smiled helplessly at her, then carefully pulled out of her and tucked his manhood back into his trousers. He quickly grabbed the towel from his washbasin so Piper could use it to tidy up, but when he turned back to face her, her smile was soft and affectionate instead of wicked.

“You weren’t really planning this, were you?” she said.

He raised his eyebrows, then rubbed the back of his neck. “I – I certainly was. What makes you think…”

He trailed off; Piper was gazing at him with a fond sort of expectation, like the look she wore while she was waiting for him to tell her little stories about his life before the Inquisition, and… and of course she’d seen right through his half-baked ruse. She knew him better than anyone, and of course she knew he wasn’t one for planning naughty seduction scenes.

He sighed. “All right, I’ll admit, this was… rather impromptu. I…” He nervously licked his lips, then gave her a pleading look. “I have a birthday gift for you. And I – I wanted to–”

“You got me a birthday gift?” she interrupted. “I — you didn’t have to do that!”

Cullen gazed at her cautiously. She looked both surprised and happy, but this somehow only made him more nervous. “I designed it,” he corrected. “Dagna and Harritt made it – made them, I should say. And Dorian helped me decide on the colours and fabric, and – well, I hope you like them, but I’ve never seen you wear such an item before, so I’m uncertain if perhaps you may not like them, but Sera said–”

She cut him off once more. “You had something custom-made for me?” she asked. “What is it?”

Her eyes were bright now, and Cullen’s nerves ratcheted even higher. “They’re – well, I might as well…” He swallowed hard, then gently patted her thigh so she would shift aside.

She shuffled to the side on his desk, and he opened the desk drawer. Then, with an odd combination of hope and worry, he handed her the flat rectangular box.

“These are for you,” he said. “Happy birthday, Piper.”

She took the box and opened it, and her jaw dropped. “Archer’s gloves?” she exclaimed.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Sera said you didn’t usually wear them and that’s why your fingers are so callused. But I noticed that you soak your hands sometimes in a basin of elfroot, so I thought if – well, the gloves might protect your fingers, and…” He trailed off and swallowed hard. Piper was staring at the gloves in an uncharacteristic silence, and her mass of silver hair had fallen partway over her face, so he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.

Feeling truly nervous now, he pressed on. “They’re druffalo skin to protect your fingers. And they’re lined with fennec fur for softness,” he explained. “Dorian said you would like that shade of brown the most. And the… the thread is woven from silverite for strength, but it also, er, reminds me of your hair. And the grommets are – well, they’re purely decorative, but they’re ten-carat gold, and you – well, you call me Golden Boy sometimes, so I thought–” He clamped his lips together to stop himself from babbling at her like a nervous messenger.

Piper was still gazing silently at the gloves. Cullen rested his hand on her bare knee. “Piper?” he said tentatively. “If you don’t like them, I won’t be offended, I promise you–”

“I love them,” she said. “I absolutely love them. They’re perfect.” She finally looked up at him, and his heart jolted: she was beaming at him, but her eyes were shining with tears.

She laughed and briskly wiped her eyes. “These are perfect,” she said. “The – the silver and gold? That’s so…” She laughed again and shook her head.

Cullen winced. “Is it, er, tacky? Dorian said it was tacky, but I insisted. Perhaps I shouldn’t have–”

“No,” Piper said loudly. “I love it. I love them. Cullen, I fucking love you.”

He sighed in relief, then smiled at her. “I love you, Piper. Very much. And you are always giving me gifts, so I–”

“Stop talking,” she said. She put the box aside and reached for him. “Stop talking and just kiss me.”

He smiled at her, then stepped close to her and kissed her just as she’d asked. She twined her arms around his waist and hugged him, and Cullen blissfully cradled her neck in his palms and savoured the press of her perfect scarred lips until she pulled away from him.

“I love you, Cullen,” she whispered. “I’m going to wear these gloves every single day when I’m out in the field, and I’ll pretend it’s like you’re keeping me safe.”

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. “That was my hope,” he murmured. “That something of me could be there to protect you, even if I can’t.”

Her smile widened, and she let out a tremulous little laugh. “No more talking, Golden Boy,” she said. “I can’t afford to cry, not before the big drunken bash.”

He chuckled. “Yes, Inquisitor.”

She smirked and poked him in the belly, then kissed him once more before picking up the gloves and sliding them onto her hands, and Cullen was further relieved to see that the asymmetrical gloves were a perfect fit.

She smiled up at him once more, and the quirk of her lips was cheeky once more. “So that whole ‘naughty plan’ thing was… what? A distraction?”

“A panicked attempt to distract you, yes,” he said ruefully. “I was nervous for you to see the gloves. I apologize, I didn’t–”

“Apologize?” she exclaimed. “For what?”

“For attempting to deceive you,” he said. “And now…” He glanced at Dagna’s clock and winced. “Maker’s breath, we’ll be late for the party. I’m sorry, Piper, I–”

She barked out a joyful laugh. “Don’t you dare ever apologize for fucking me. A perfect present and a naughty last-minute fuck on the commander’s desk? Honestly, Cullen, this might be the best birthday I’ve ever had.” She laughed again and wrapped her arms around his waist, and Cullen lovingly admired the brightness of her smile.

If such impromptu naughtiness pleased her so much, he might have to do it more often.

#cullen rutherford #cullen smut #cullen DIRTY TALK! SORT OF!!#HAPPY BIRTHDAY SCHOUTE #cullen/lavellan #cullen x lavellan #cullavellan #piperford #ADORABLE BABES #pikapeppa writes

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lawfulgoodedgelord · 2 years

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So, I have been asked for my “Why do I not like Geralt’s Season 2 armour?” rant/disorganised essay. So, here it is (spoilered after a teaser to not flood ya’ll’s dashes):

So, I just watched another video from this historian-bladesmith on arms and armour (That Works, “Towards an Aesthetic understanding of Arms and Armour”, 2019). And he has a point, so I'm going to apply this point to roast Geralt's S2 armour, and not in the way one might think. Warning ahead for passing mention of human sexuality and religion. Ilya's main point is: Armour has two purposes:

Practical use as a method by which to avoid being cut in half/skewered by various battlefield sharp implements,

A threat display and a statement to your opponent. Usually, that statement, much like animal competition rituals, is a sexual and erotic one: Muscle armour, almost caricatured codpieces, and helmets with beards engraved or forged into them are part of that: they display the bearer as an ideal, a god amongst men, with a lean, athletic and virile body. The Greeks did the muscle armour thing, golden-hued polished bronze abs across the entire troop. Early medieval armour didn't do that, instead being very straight, not showing off the body at all, hiding it, even. Because the human body was no longer a thing of beauty, like it was in Antiquity, but something tainted with original sin. However, that changed with the Renaissance and we started seeing more... flamboyant armour again, and the return of muscle armour, helmet beards, and the addition of shaping in the plate: tight and flared waists, hourglass figures (yes, in men too), cloth-like engravings to imitate clothing, gold and silver additions, etc. This return to Greco-Roman looks was also a sign of erudition, which is another competitive factor amongst nobles.

So, basically: muscle armour is valid. It offers protection, and has an intimidation factor and makes a statement to your opponent. Issue No.1: These suits of plate were not really... easy to put on, take off, and frankly, were mostly used by nobles in tournament contexts. Which is valid, you still need protection, but it isn't "practical" in the sense of a tool that is used every day. (If you’ve been to LARP or a reinactment, you know how much of a pain it is to don and doff armour for any reason. I know I will find ways to avoid doing it. And I’m not even in full plate, I am in fact what would be deemed “lightly armoured” in DnD). Issue No 2, Fandom Edition: The Continent had no Greeks, no Romans. The Greco-Roman Ideal of Virile Beauty doesn't really apply here and that makes the S2 armour look out of place amongst the overhwhelmingly eastern European and Gothic style of... literally everything else.

So, taking this into account, why is Geralt's S2 armour bad? Well, let's look at this in context:

a) The majority of the Setting is Gothic. The S2 Nilfgardian armour and Calanthe's Cintran armour are good examples. Calanthe's lion's paws and ridges on golden armour that imitate a corset or dress are a good example of a powerful Queen rolling Intimidate with her armour: She is the Lioness of Cintra and she's telling everyone who takes even a passing glance at her just this. The ridges accentuate her waist, the lion's paws her shoulders... She's sexy, she knows it, and she's going to walk all over you about it. With Gothic style, we can expect some Greco-Roman ideas to return, i.e. the armour is an implement of The Sexy, as well as a protective necessity on the battlefield.

b) Geralt is not a noble. He hangs with nobles. But he's not a noble. He's a Witcher, a shunned underclass of mercenary who might not know if he's actually going to get paid for his work. He's not exactly rolling in coin, he lives on his horse, he stores his equipment on his horse, he hunts for food and travels a lot, in inhospitable conditions.

c) Geralt is a Witcher, he hunts monsters. This is a different point than my previous one: his armour is a functional necessity that does not need to roll intimidate because a rotfiend isn't going to care about how sexy the Witcher looks, it's just going to attack the warm body and try to feed. Sexy-as-Intimidate is a tactic vs humans, not the non-sapient, nonhumanoid prey that Geralt's usually after. Not to mention that, also canonically, monsters have... unpleasant insides that may or may not be varying levels off corrosive. Monsters are also incredibly aggressive and attack by a wide variety of means, which us to the last point:

d) Geralt gets hurt. A lot. He spends a fair proportion of the show bleeding and his armour gets damaged very often. And without a reliable armourer, he needs to be able to fix it himself.

So, taking that into account, the S1 armour: I'm going to toss up pictures so I can reference them as I ramble. I'm not even going to address the usefulness of this in combat, because frankly I can't remember the pros and cons of leather versus plate in various contexts off the top of my head. Looks like studded leather armour and like it is multiple layers, probably long strips of boiled leather attached to a thinner, more flexible (and cheaper) underlayer to like... you know, keep them there. This is effective, since you can replace the strips is they wear out.

It comes in a few pieces: the plastron (wrapped around the chest like a corset, flared at the hips to allow sitting and thus riding), two pauldrons (rectangular and angled to deflect blows. Not shaped, therefore easy to make), bracers (nothing special here's it's splint armour), and what looks like an extension of the pauldron over the upper arm out of a thinner leather. This kind of thing is effective for a reduced cost. Leather is far cheaper than metal, and having it in strips like this means it's even cheaper to maintain over a long period of time since torn or broken section can be replaced. So that's the reparability, which is crucial in Geralt's line of work. He's going to get beat up and he's going to end up bleeding. The armour is just buying him time as the beastie tears through that of him. He'll salvage what he can of his armour and body afterwards, fix it, and move on. That's how Witcher's work. They aren't knights. They're hunters.

From a human standpoint, it also serves a function (surprise, surprise), and it is intimidation (gasp), but it isn't sexual intimidation: It's black.

Black is expensive, as a die, difficult to make, so it stands out. However, and this I learned from Ilya despite the fact it really should have been obvious: pitch, and tar, are both black substances that, while useful in preventing rust (useless on leather armour, but that's how the "black knight" image came about), also acts as a waterproofing agent (useful on leather armour). Pitch is... relatively easy to make, if you have access to tree sap and are a moderately skilled chemist who knows how to distill something. (spoilers: Witchers are skilled chemists and biologists by necessity. You need a hermetic seal to make birch-tar in a single vessel but... this is a setting that has intravenous injections. I think they can figure out a hermetic seal, seeing as the thing is named for Hermetic magic/alchemy and was invented by Maria Hebraea, an alchemist who gave us many other technologies. She's great.) Fun fact I just learned check a fact: birch-tar is black, made by dry distillation of birch wood (common in Eastern Europe) which produces the pitch in question and charcoal, and used in the treatment of leather (amongst... many other uses I wouldn't have thought of but date back to eons ago).

My digression about alchemy aside: Black armour is distinctive, and Witchers have the knowledge and materials to maintain and weatherproof (also necessary) their armour with birch-tar. This combined with the fact it is very bulky also sends a signal at first glance: "I am powerful and dangerous, stay away", like shying away from a predator. And the silver medallion on top (which is highlighted on the dark background gives the context: "I am a Witcher of the School of the Wolf".

Through his armour, Geralt's telling you everything you need to know about him in ways that also align with the extremely practicality imposed by his job.

Now: Season 2! Picture incoming.

So, we see the return of the black armour and the studded leather. Still nice and waterproof, good on them.

The purpose appears to be the same. The bracers are identical to his previous armour set. The differences are: -

The plastron is now muscle armour. Recall how I said muscle armour was, essentially, a vs-humans sexual intimidation tactics? I am strong, I am a warrior of the gods, my body is perfect and I will destroy you with my sexy? Yeah. This is armour for use against humans who can be intimidated by virile eroticism and sexual competition in that respect. This plastron is also, incidentally, at most perhaps five peices of still leather on a thinner leather underlayer. If something tears through this, he's going to have to replace the entire plastron, most likely. Very efficient, Geralt, you still live on your horse.

The pauldrons are now layered scales. This isn't... terrible. It's fine. Not very historical and I personally preferred the other ones. But it's fine. I'm concerned about the tiny little exposed attachment point but... whatever. If it gets torn off, White Wolf, that's your problem. It's harder to cut curves like that out of a piece of leather, but again, it's fine. It does also slim down his figure. He's less of a monolith (ha), a bulky black-clad armoured swordsman, hiding his body underneath the angles of the armour. Here he's accentuating his human form and athleticism showing it off. The pauldrons offer protection (at least in Hollywood's esteem and I'm not going to get into the actual effectiveness here because I lack knowledge and also there's no point) while still like... betraying the actual position and breadth of his shoulders.

Henry Cavill is a large, sexy man and this armour shows you exactly that. Geralt is... doing the "I'm sexy and I know it" intimidation thing again, which I'll repeat: only effective against humans and things that can be attracted to humans. Now, in a sense, this does follow with how the series is going. Geralt ends up fighting a lot more humanoids in S2 than he does in S1, if my memory is to be trusted (it isn’t, take that with a grain of salt).

P.S.: Additional not-armour gripe: The vials at the hip.

Those vials aren't magically unable to break. We've seen one break in S1. As far as I can tell, he used to keep them with the rest of his gear, in that incredibly practical backpack he kept his swords in and could tie up as a saddlebag. It's good to keep them there, that way when you inevitably get flung around... they don't shatter and cause you more injuries in your thigh (in addition to like, you know, losing the potion. Would really suck if you needed a Cat and... oops! all broken glass! wouldn't it?). Not to mention how if you're fighting humans/elves (like the +1 CHA(Intimidation) armour suggests), they can figure out how to target a Witcher's alchemy to prevent him from prolonging the fight and/or healing afterwards. Very nice for easy access... in theory. Terrible in practice.

#this is becoming a habit #I'm not an expert in medieval armour #i'm just ranting about costuming based on my limited knowledge and experience #I would have provided 'so how do we fix this' but frankly that'd be overstepping the bounds of my knowledge #and i'd essentially be talking out of my ass more than I already am. so...

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