#jaskier is smart and he does have standards

[samstree]

“What do you mean he’s faking it? Geralt gets headaches, you should know! Lambert, he’s your brother!”

“Oh, believe me, I know my brother, Buttercup. Pretty boy has you wrapped around his finger. He’s just pretending so you’d be like…this. All touchy-feely and cuddly.”

The air shifts when Lambert must be gesturing wildly at Jaskier and Geralt’s general direction, where the witcher is resting his head on the bard’s thigh. The argument is muffled by the hand Jaskier presses on Geralt’s ear protectively.

It’s too comfortable to move, with Jaskier’s lap as the pillow and his doublet draped over Geralt’s shoulder. The fainting couch he’s lying on practically becomes a cocoon—one that is warm and nice and made from a bard’s love, but Geralt can only get it if he has a headache. Which he conveniently does, recently.

So Geralt duly keeps his eyes closed. He’s supposed to be resting for the pain, after all.

“His senses are heightened,” Jaskier protests, his voice low and careful. “You’ve seen him get overwhelmed by all the smells and noises. Don’t you at least have sympathy for a fellow witcher?”

“My senses are heightened too, and I can tell he’s a shit actor. He’s not even asleep!”

“Shh!” The hand that covers Geralt’s ear tightens. “You’re going to wake him!”

“Ugh, how do I tell you this, you can’t wake someone pretending!”

“Get out.”

Jaskier’s whisper remains low, but the determination seeps into those two words. Even without looking, Geralt can imagine the frown on the bard’s face easily. Oh, Jaskier is getting angry.

“You are not listening, he’s—"

“Out, Lambert.”

Properly angry. Even the younger wolf does not have a retort for the finality in Jaskier’s order. With a few muttered curses about gullible bards, Lambert’s footsteps retreat into the hallway. A door slams shut behind him, and Jaskier flinches even though it’s far away.

Geralt hums unhappily at how much Jaskier has tensed, so he hugs the thighs under his head closer. Gentle hands fuss all over him, tucking in the corners of the doublet and stroking his arm, shoulder, hair. He’s so toasty he could melt right here.

A good person would never take advantage of Jaskier’s affections like this, Geralt knows. Shame he’s not a good person.

Now he can bask in the presence of his bard without interruption. Geralt keeps his face neutral and relaxed, but the triumph makes him almost giddy at the knowledge that Jaskier will take his side every time—

“You know I know, right?”

Jaskier’s whisper comes from above, still soft and gentle and full of love. And perhaps, a hint of amusement.

Geralt freezes like a statue. His breathing stops for a long, long time. It’s a good thing witchers don’t need to breathe that much; it’s bad that his face is also heating up rather quickly in the process.

“Alright, then,” Jaskier says after a moment. His deft fingers trace Geralt’s jawline and give it a little pat. “Sleep tight, witcher mine.”

There is the sound of fabric rustling when Jaskier tries to find a good place to rest his head on the fainting couch. His snores come soon after.

Geralt blinks open his eyes after a while, not daring to move a muscle with Jaskier under him, still a vital part of the nice cocoon. Gradually, the toastiness is bordering on being too hot. He wonders if he’s able to panic while staying completely still, because it certainly fucking feels like it. There’s even sweat on his forehead now.

He does end up developing a headache, and it’s probably well-deserved.

Lambert must never find out.

#geraskier #geraskier fic #fluff #tooth rotting fluff #once again #geralt is a cheeky bastard #jaskier is smart and he does have standards #they just disappear when geralt is involved

[pillage-and-lute]

Pins and Needles: Part 3

Part 1, Part 2

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

The butter yellow of the awning of the new tattoo shop carried on inside. The color scheme was classy, though. 

During Geralt’s mostly misspent youth, he’d been inside his fare share of tattoo and piercing parlors. He’d never gotten a tattoo, and his piercings had mostly been his own work, but still, the culture seeped in. He had learned to expect a lot of red and black and exposed brickwork. There was nothing wrong with that look, but he considered the interior of Pins and Needles to be much more friendly. 

The walls were a deep blue, denim, if he had to name it, or perhaps Prussian Blue. It was on all the walls, and the ceiling, with the floor in a dark, smooth wood. He wasn’t sure if that was kept from the last shop or was newly installed. The counter was in the same polished, dark wood, so he supposed it was new. All the accents were dandelion yellow, or yellow brass if they were metal. His leg brushed up against a velveteen chair, something of a vintage style, and of course, in that same buttery yellow. 

The waiting area had the chair, a matching loveseat, and a high-backed chaise lounge in a teal color. It had more green to it’s color than the walls, and was in a lighter shade, but it was adjacent to the color of the walls, and a pleasing focal point. Overall, Geralt was impressed. The blue and yellow color scheme could have easily been overdone, but it was masterful, and clearly completed by someone with an eye for color. 

Ciri was delightedly pouring over a piercing display. Geralt was startled to realize he owned the exact display box. It was, in fact, a large glass terrarium, the metal that same shiny brass. The shelves of piercing were cleverly angled and set within the case so that they were all visible. 

“Nice display case, isn’t it?” 

Geralt turned, and there was Jaskier. He had a BB8 coffee mug in his hand, and a shimmery teal shirt unbuttoned low. It framed his sternum and the peaks of color visible through his chest hair and pointing down in a tempting arrow to--

“urk,” Geralt said, choking on his own tongue. 

“Priscilla found it on the side of the road one day, the legs were scuffed to hell and one was missing, but the glass was intact, so she took it back to her house and fixed it up.”

“I have the same one,” Geralt managed, the tips of his ears reddening.

“Oh, as a display case?”

“Um, it’s a terrarium.”

“Is it really?” Jaskier beamed and Geralt felt like he was dying. “I always thought it was a funny shape. It makes such a lovely focal point along that wall though.”

Ciri was beaming as well. “Dad keeps succulents in his. Is Priscilla the lady that does piercings?”

“She is,” Jaskier said, tilting his head so that his hair flopped and Gerald got a better view of his undercut and dangling chain of a cuff piercing on his ear. “Are you in the market for a piercing, miss...”

“Ciri,” she said, sticking her hand out to shake. “And my dad might get a tattoo sometime, but he’s being a baby about it and doesn’t know what he wants.”

Jaskier shook her hand and levelled a devastating grin at Geralt. “Well, some things aren’t to be rushed, but if your dad ever want’s a tattoo, I’ll give him anything he wants.”

Geralt desperately tried to reel his thoughts in from the absolute trainwreck that that statement illicited. Obviously Jaskier was just trying to sell his craft not offer...anything else. 

“Are you taking walk-ins for piercings?” Ciri asked. 

“Absolutely,” Jaskier said, turning and shouting. “Priscilla?” Down the hall of the shop where, presumably, the actuall tattooing and piercing rooms were. 

“YEah?” came the response. 

“Got a consult for you!”

She poked her head out of a room, smiled quickly, popped back in for a second, then emerged. “Hiya, sorry, I was just doing a little sketching, how can I help?”

“I’d like an industrial piercing please,” Ciri said. 

Priscilla tilted her head, eyes squinting slightly as she, apparently, assesed Ciri’s ears. “That’ll suit you well, left or right side?”

“Left.”

“Cool,” she looked to Geralt. “I’m assuming you’re the dad?”

“Uh, yes,” Geralt said, feeling wildly out of his depth. 

“Great, and does she have your permission for the piercing?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, absolutely.”

“Cool,” Priscilla said, digging behind the counter. “I’ve got paper work for both of you, and then we can get this lovely lady poked full of holes.”

Geralt’s stomach flipped over. Despite how many times he had actually stuck a fucking sewing needle through his own ear as a teenager, he couldn’t stand the thought of normal piercing needles. 

“It’s okay, Dad,” Ciri said as they were handed paperwork and pens. “You don’t have to hold my hand or anything, you can wait out here.”

“Great,” Geralt said, looking at the paperwork. Pretty standard stuff, parental release, aftercare papers, all that. He signed quickly and returned the relevant documents, keeping the aftercare instructions. 

“Thanks very much,” Priscilla said, checking for signatures before smiling at Ciri again. “Got any jewelry picked out?” They walked over to the case as Ciri gestured to some. 

Jaskier was looking at Geralt assessingly over the top of his coffee mug. “You know,” he said. “Most dads aren’t this cool about piercings.” He licked a bit of foam off of his lip and Geralt tried very hard to pretend that he hadn’t seen the flash of a tongue piercing. 

“I, uh, I’ve got plenty of bad ones, I’d rather she got her’s done professionally.”

“Bad ones?” Priscilla’s head jerked up. ���Can I see?”

Geralt nodded as she was already bustleing over. He brushed the strands of hair that escaped his ponytail back so she could see his ears. 

“Amatur work for sure, although no lasting damage, where’d you get these done?” 

Geralt flushed. “I did them, uhm, way back.”

“Oh god, you didn’t buy one of those cheep piercing guns, did you?” Priscilla asked, poking gently at Geralt’s ear so she could look at the back of the piercings. Jaskier smiled at Geralt’s probably confused expression. 

“No, I used a needle.”

Priscilla pulled back, eyes wide. “A sewing needle?”

Geralt shrugged guiltily.

“Yeah, okay,” she said quickly, turning to Ciri. “Hold out your pinky, you have to make me a promise.”

Ciri’s brow furrowed, but she linked pinky fingers with the excitable piercer. 

“I promise,” Priscilla said, gesturing with her other hand for Ciri to repeat after her.

“I promise,” Ciri said. 

“Not to pierce myself.”

“Not to pierce myself,” Ciri said, smiling.

“No matter what my dad did.”

“No matter what my dad did,” Ciri finished. “I won’t, don’t worry.”

“Good,” Priscilla said, releasing Ciri’s pinky from it’s hold and sending a theatrical shiver of disgust toward Geralt. “A sewing needle, yikes. C’mon kiddo, we’re gonna stick a needle through your ear, and I’ll show you how a real piercer does it.”

She hurried Ciri into the back room, grabbing a couple sealed packages on the way, needle and jewelry, Geralt presumed. 

“Don’t mind Prissy,” Jaskier said. “She’s just very big on piercing safety.”

“No, I agree,” Geralt said. “I was a really stupid kid back then.”

Jaskier smiled and came out from around the counter a bit, leaning against the side, hip jutting in those ungodly tight leather pants. “Ciri seems pretty smart though, does she get it from her mother?”

“Um,” Geralt said, the sight of those long, leather-wrapped legs making his mouth weirdly dry. “I suppose? Her dad was pretty smart, too.”

“Ah, so you’re not her biological dad?” Jaskier said, leaning forward. Geralt wondered for a second if he was fishing, but surely not, pretty tattoo artists didn’t flirt with frumpy guys like him. 

“No, uh, but I’ve been her guardian since she was just a baby so...”Geralt trailed off, unsure how to finish.

“That’s very cute.” Jaskier’s eyes trailed down Geralt, then back up. To his shame, Geralt realized he hadn’t even removed his apron. 

“You know,” Jaskier said, conversationally. “My dad would have never even thought about letting me get a piercing.”

Geralt looked over the form in front of him, piercings in each ear, more than one, even, a nose ring, and that ellusive tongue ring, as well as the colorful tattoos that swarmed over his skin. “That worked out well for him,” he said without thinking, then blushed.

Jaskier, though, laughed, head back, shoulders shaking. “Indeed,” he said at last. “I shrugged off my father’s wishes rather fully, I think.” 

The bell rang as another person entered the shop and Geralt stepped aside as Jaskier went back behind the counter. He sat on the yellow chair and watched Jaskier’s lips--and that hint of silver on his tongue-- as he made the young woman a tattoo appointment. 

Jaskier’s hands, full of rings and swirling ink, were so quick on the computer keys, and when he talked with them, they were so expressive. 

Geralt wanted to hold one. 

Unfortunately, by the time the young woman was gone and Geralt could have possibly had Jaskier’s full attention again, Ciri was all done. Geralt paid, thanked both Jaskier and Priscilla, and went over the care instructions, before he and Ciri crossed the road. 

It felt very much like a retreat. 

———- 🌷 🐺 🌷———-

Tag List!

@jaybeefoxy @sweetiepieplum  @holymotherwolf

#geraskier #tattoo au #flower shop au #the witcher #geralt x jaskier #geralt is a good dad #but a dating disaster #DO NOT do your own piercings kids

[thebadboyfanclub]

Protect The Queen Pt.1 (Geralt x Reader)

This is just becoming addictive at this point, I love writing about this cause there are so many different scenarios and possibilities you could write about. Also there might be a part two for this so please let me know if you would be interested in it. Enjoy!

She looked at herself in the mirror once more, it was almost time for her to take her future in her own hands, to rise to the occasion and take back her life. Her gaze fell to the ring she was wearing, it was passed on to her when she married the king of Orkney, she barely had taken a step into womanhood at the time her parents announced her marriage to her, such a shame that she spend such youthful years in a castle with a man that didn't even think about her, it was pure and also embarrassing for (y/n) to look back at her naive and selfless younger self.

“Oh, you are awake”

“I was waiting for you my dear”

She answered to her husband, her voice dripping honey for the first time in years. Their marriage was far from happy, (Y/n) had thought since she was to become his wife he would treat her with kindness, unfortunately that was not the case, he saw her just as a vessel for his children, when that seemed to not happen he fell to the arms of concubines and commoners, making her become this cold, distant wife he deserved. Sometimes she would wonder if maybe she had given him the heir he craved that maybe his behavior would change, that however was crushed by gratefulness she felt for her womb for not bring a child in this loveless household. She would have never forgiven herself if she raised a child that did not see their parents share at least one hug.

“What’s the cause of you lingering in our room (y/n)?”

“To celebrate, here my king”

She offered him the glass of wine she was holding on her left hand, it was filled with his favorite wine. Her husband took it and gave her a puzzled look, whenever he would sleep in the same room with her- which wasn’t often- he would find her asleep.

“What are we celebrating?”

“My birthday dear”

He was left confused at her smile and statement. It couldn’t be, they held a public celebration for her birthday every year, it was protocol for the queen to allow the public in the castle for her special day. The clink of the glasses echoed around the room, she brought the glass to her lips and took a light sip

“Come on dear, drink up. You were never one to shy away from a glass of wine”

She pushed the glass from the bottom up to his lips. He did not understand the cause of all this, yet whatever the case was she was right, the moment he tasted the delicious wine he took three gulps and the glass went from full to half empty.

“Excellent, I’m glad you enjoyed the wine my king, careful,.. the choking will probably start any minute now”

-

“My queen, we have been waiting for you to... rise for so long”

“Perfection takes time”

She answered to her most trusted confident,her coronation was something that would remain in history for centuries, she was adored by the public so when she inherited the crown after her last husband, everyone knew they were in safe hands. That does not mean the rumors did not arise to the situation, the late king was a healthy young man, it was very suspicious how he fell to darkness overnight.

She meant what she told him when she mentioned her birthday, that day she shed away her foolish acts and was reborn, a woman that stood strong in the field of womanhood, ready to take what’s hers whether people liked it or not.

She looked around the room, seeing her people enjoy their night and drink to her name felt so natural to her, she was meant to lead. 

“Excuse me just for a moment, I want to get closer to my people”

“As you wish my queen”

As she started going around at a slow pace she did her best to observe her people, they seemed to enjoy themselves, they acted like the king never existed, like the soil on top of him had been thrown decades ago, she smiled at herself while thinking that she acted in a way her people wanted, pleasing them and herself with just a few drops of that special liquid.

It was then that she noticed the back of a tall man, his long white hair and his armor stood out from the others, she also took note that he was accompanied by a much smaller and probably younger man that was holding a lute. It couldn’t be? The infamous white wolf and his barb at her coronation? 

“What are we doing here Jaskier?”

“Celebrating the queen officially getting the crown after her husbands oh so sudden death”

Jaskier was fascinated by her history, a princess known for her noble nature and beauty, he reminisced of the song he had heard about her, she was the master of horses, the late king had met her when she rode the most stubborn and difficult horse in the royal stable, married to the king at her prime and failing at giving him an heir.

He was surprised she got to kill him first before the late king did, not only that but she is now the one sitting on the thrown after the kings death under some suspicious circumstances.

“sudden death? hmm, I believe the king found out  that his destiny was a woman in a harsh way”

“Every mans destiny is a woman.... Witcher”

As he heard the voice from behind him he turned around to see to whom it belonged to. Jaskier’s mouth formed a big “O” when he was met with the queen, Geralt figured out who she was by the crown sitting on her head. The first thing she noticed was his yellow eyes, she found them so captivating, unique, she had never seen a witcher from up close, it was also just her luck that brought her the most handsome one. 

Geralt didn’t know what to say, he was at her celebration, talking badly about the queen herself, he knew the consequences he just didn’t know if the queen would choose torture or immediate death as the penalty

“Queen (y/n), my apologies, Geralt has had a bit too much to drink, please spare him”

Jaskier might be a bit overly giddy at the wrong time, however that did not mean that what Geralt ha implied could make the queen want his head right then and there. As Jaskier bowed at her, she only let a small smile appear on her lips, softening her features towards the men that both looked distressed, she had to admire that she felt a bit of pride of making the witcher eat his words, judging by his reputation that did not happen every day.

“It’s alright, I know what the people are saying about me, it’s understandable”

“Understandable? Shouldn’t the queen rush to protect her reputation?”

“That’s what kings do when they feel their ego getting bruised, look around you Geralt, what do you see? The same people that have spread those accusations are dancing and yelling “long live the queen”, if anything my new found reputation is more promising”

Geralt was immediately interested, it wasn’t often that a queen would be alright with rumors and of such kind being passed around, as well as taking it as an advantage and being pleased about it. 

“Elaborate please”

“The kings of other towns will hear those rumors, now who would dare come and threaten the woman that killed her own husband for power? Only a mad man would risk coming to my home”

She was smart, cunning. Geralt had met people of royalty and understood exactly what she meant when she talked about fragile egos. On the contrary, she stood tall and proud, took advantage of the people that gave her a new source of power without them even knowing it. The essence of her as a human being could only be described as being royal, a woman of luxury that men would probably kill for just a glimpse of her naked skin

It only made him question the late king, how could he have wronged such a woman? was maybe her standards that were two high? or was it an act of revenge? Geralt felt the need to puff out his chest as an act of bravery, she was a quite tall woman and if you match that with the way she carried herself, it was a death mix, the late king was already one of the victims of it

“You mean that you are going to become other kings destiny?”

“I don’t believe in destiny, what destiny is varies depending on the people you ask, for my parents my destiny was to become an obedient queen and give birth to the heir, a child that shared the same blood with my late husband”

She said mildly disgusted, as a widower she would probably have to grieve, linger in her room and cry behind close doors at the loss of her love. It seems like nobody even noticed how she did none of that, like it was normal for her to through a celebration a few weeks after his death in her name, not only that but the people seemed to love it. Geralt gave her a smirk at her smart and a bit intriguing answer.

“Then what do you think is your destiny”

“To be in charge of my and my peoples future, destiny and fate are nothing in front of the power of a woman”

The way she talked about destiny showed how she truly embodied confidence and stability, she feared nothing, not even her future self, she only relied on her power. As she talked to him he couldn’t help but let his eyes look mostly towards her lips, her painted lips that moved in such hypnotic way, he felt compelled by her.

Jaskier just stood there watching the two people talk like they are long lost friends. The queen so many people felt uneasy just by her presence was now having a casual conversation with the witcher. Geralt was slowly but surely gaining respect for her, she was a woman of power, a woman that used her brain and situations to her advantages and held herself accountable for her future, she was a true queen.

Geralt smiled at her genuinely, he had met her late husband in the past, he recalled him being stubborn and stuck up, raising his nose at others that he thought were less than him. If he was alive there was no way he would find him walking around commoners

“hmmm, Well queen (y/n), I am sure your people will be safe with you leading this land”

“I hope that in the future I can count on you for aid”

“About what?”

“Danger of course”

She took one step closer to him, still keeping eye contact with Geralt. As he took in a deep breath he could smell the scent of lavender off of her, her hair shined underneath the light of the flames and her eyes glistered with confidence and pride, she was the definition of strength, just her look brought Geralt into defense mode, waiting for her words and thinking how should he respond correctly to her before she even opened her mouth. 

The skill of demanding attention and respect so silently was one that the very few of people that did had it were considered blessed, even though he was aware of that skill, still he had yet to meet one... until he met her.

“Loneliness can be an awfully dangerous thing”

She whispered just loud enough for only him to hear, as the other villagers laughed and sang around them, not even noticing that their queen was standing a few inches away from them, as well as being promiscuous to a witcher.

“I would be honored to protect the queen”

“I’m glad you feel that way, I’m sure you could be a great ally for me, geralt of rivia”

-

PART 2 

#geralt imagine #geralt x reader #geralt x oc #geralt of rivia oneshot #geralt of rivia #geralt headcanon #the witcher headcanon #the witcher imagine #the witcher x reader #the witcher oneshot #the witcher #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #the witcher x you #geralt x you #geralt of rivia x y/n #geralt of rivia imagine

[contemplativepancakes]

stay lost in this moment forever

nearly 11k of pure, unadulterated horse girl geralt fluff. read on ao3 here.

in which they head to the coast, and get away for a while.

Geralt’s not quite sure what to do with himself, here. There are no monsters, just a rocky stretch of a beach that’s all theirs. At least, that’s what Jaskier had said, his mouth hot near Geralt’s ear as he took him in hand beneath the stars. Geralt hadn’t had the will to question him. 

He looks at Jaskier, scribbling furiously in his notebook, the quill Geralt gifted him flying across the page. Geralt stretches languidly, but Jaskier doesn’t look up at him. “Jask,” he says, and no, he doesn’t whine. 

Jaskier hums in acknowledgement, and Geralt fights the urge to throw a pillow at him. 

“I’m bored.”

“What happened to the whole no emotions schtick?” Jaskier asks instantly, not turning his attention away from the page. 

This time, Geralt does throw the pillow, and finally, Jaskier looks at him. “Needy this morning, are we?” Jaskier asks, the scent of satisfaction drifting off of him unbearably. 

Geralt grunts in protest. He’d never be anything as undignified as that. 

“Sure,” Jaskier says skeptically. He looks back down at his writing, and Geralt huffs and gets out of bed. 

He takes his time getting dressed, and he definitely does not stretch to reach the top shelf, knowing the way it makes his back muscles ripple. There’s not even a rustle from behind him. 

Geralt gets dressed and wanders out of their little shack. If Geralt was in a more generous mood, he’d call it a cottage, but alas. Geralt tries to walk as quietly across the stones as he can, the habit to be light footed ingrained in him even if there’s nothing that he is trying to hide his presence from. 

Geralt makes his way down the beach, to where the rocks finally give way to grass. He walks a bit farther still, until trees start to sprout on the horizon, and he sees Roach. He walks up to where she’s grazing, in a pasture he fenced off. 

Jaskier had been interested in him that day, at least. “Do you know what a sight you make, all sweaty and good with your hands?” Jaskier had whispered into his ear. 

Geralt hummed. “I think you had better show me.”

And Jaskier did. Repeatedly. 

He’s jerked out of his reverie by Roach nudging him with a snort. Geralt combs his fingers through her mane and leans on the post he had driven into the ground. Jaskier hadn’t been able to hold in his comments on that particular action. 

Geralt huffs. He wishes Jaskier was here, that he wasn’t too busy composing to pay attention to Geralt. He’s distracted by a horse’s scream somewhere to his right. He wrenches back from Roach, who has her ears laid back flat. 

Geralt looks toward the tree line, but nothing seems out of place. It’s not like he can ignore a call for help, though, so he unsheathes his sword and makes his way into the woods just beyond Roach’s pasture. He almost hopes he finds something amiss, just so he can tell Jaskier that keeping his swords on him wasn’t overkill. He’s a witcher, he can’t just walk around unarmed, no matter how many times Jaskier insists they’re on vacation. Witchers don’t just take vacations, he protested, but Jaskier paid him no heed. 

He scans the woods as he walks farther in, but in the end, he almost steps right on it. There’s a horse lying in a copse, panting shallow breaths, his belly slick with blood.

Geralt’s face pinches, and he crouches down. The horse whinnies in agitation, but he’s not exactly in a position to refuse Geralt’s help. Something’s torn the horse’s stomach open and left it here for dead. Geralt’s stomach turns. He hates seeing needless suffering. He probes the wound with his fingers, biting his lip and trying to decide if the horse has a chance to make it, or if Geralt should put an end to the misery. The horse hasn’t stopped nickering since Geralt got there, so Geralt’s not going to take the choice away from him. Geralt sits down next to him and pets the horse’s snout, reaching into his satchel and pulling out a sugar cube that he keeps for Roach. The horse’s lips close around it, and Geralt convinces himself that the horse is going to be okay. 

Geralt pulls out a flask, just a standard disinfectant, and pours it over the wound. The last thing they need is an infection, and Geralt thanks his paranoia for keeping him prepared. The horse neighs in pain, and Geralt runs two fingers over his soft nose. “It’s okay,” he croons. “You’re doing so good.”

Geralt looks at the wound, thinking. There’s really nothing left but to stitch it up. Stitching wounds is bad enough on humans who understand what’s going on, much less on an animal that doesn’t understand he’s trying to help it. He smooths a hand down the horse’s flank, murmuring nonsense and hoping it’s soothing. 

The horse turns his head to nuzzle Geralt’s hand. 

“Geralt? Geralt!” comes a call from out of Geralt’s view. 

He doesn’t want to startle the horse, but he can hear the worry in Jaskier’s voice, so he replies, “Over here!” trying to be just loud enough for Jaskier to hear. 

He hears Jaskier grumbling, then there’s a crashing through the underbrush. “Seriously, Geralt? What are you—oh. Oh.” 

Geralt looks up at Jaskier, who looks down at all the blood before he looks back at Geralt, his eyes wide. 

“I‘m glad you’re here,” Geralt says, “I could use your help.”

“Oh, joy.”

-

“What’s his name?” Jaskier asks finally, after a week, when it’s starting to look like the gelding is staying. 

“Roach.”

“Geralt, you can’t just name all your horses Roach. That’s ridiculous.”

Geralt shrugs. “It’s worked out so far.”

“Yes, but two at once? They’ll be confused.”

“They’re smart,” is all Geralt says. 

Jaskier throws his hands up and walks away, but Geralt coaxes him back soon afterwards. Jaskier gives him a begrudging kiss and smiles against his lips. 

-

“Geralt,” Jaskier whines, “Pay attention to me.”

Geralt doesn’t glance up from he’s brushing Roach down, with the other Roach nosing against his arm. Roach has been standoffish ever since Geralt introduced her to the second Roach, and he’s starting to think Jaskier might have had a point about the names, but Geralt’s not going to admit that to him. 

“Geralt,” Jaskier says again, drawing it out. 

There’s a smile playing at Geralt’s lips, but he finally looks up, Jaskier himself winning out over Geralt’s desire to give him a taste of his own medicine. 

Jaskier is right there beside him, and when Geralt looks at him, he wraps an arm around Geralt’s waist. “Having fun?”

“Never,” Geralt deadpans. 

“Never? Really? Never? Have you forgotten last night already?”

“I think I need a reminder.”

“I can probably arrange that.”

Jaskier mouths at Geralt’s neck, but Geralt pushes him away.

“In front of Roach?”

Jaskier rolls his eyes and pulls him back in anyway. Geralt doesn’t offer any more protests. 

-

“Geralt, stay here,” Jaskier says plaintively, tugging on his arm. 

Geralt shrugs away from him, lacing up his pants. Jaskier wraps his hand around Geralt’s wrist from his spot on the bed. Geralt looks down at him and almost gives in, but he needs to check on Roach. His stitches have been healing well, but he has a troublesome habit of trying to chew them out if Geralt doesn’t change his bandages often enough. 

He’s already had to restitch some of them, and Roach made Geralt plenty aware of his dislike of that situation, so Geralt would like to avoid a repeat. 

Jaskier huffs and lets go of his arm. “Fine. I’ll just...wait here, then.”

A smile tugs at Geralt’s lips. “Insatiable, hmm?”

Jaskier leans back against the pillows and sighs, looking at his lap pitably. 

“I’ll be back soon,” Geralt promises. 

Jaskier throws an arm over his eyes and turns over, making a rather uncalled for dramatic noise, if you ask Geralt. Geralt rolls his eyes fondly, trying not to let them catch on the planes of Jaskier’s back or the way the blanket drapes over him just so… 

Geralt shakes his head and makes his way out the door, blinking his eyes against the cool early morning air. He walks along the rocky beach until the paddock comes into sight. He squints to see both Roaches leaning against each other as they sleep, and he smiles to himself. Roach had neighed and nipped at the intruder when Geralt had first introduced them, so he’s glad to see they’re getting along now. Jaskier would probably say it’s his fault they didn’t get along for rubbing his surly nature off on his horses, and Geralt would be inclined to agree. 

As Geralt gets closer, he notices the sound of snapping twigs coming from the woods on the other side of the pasture. He stops and scans the tree line, but he doesn’t notice anything amiss. Probably a deer. He swings open the gate and latches it shut behind him as both Roaches blink at him sleepily. 

“Good morning,” Geralt greets as he gets closer, stooping down to tug up a patch of clover to offer in his outstretched hands. 

Roach gets to her feet instantly, snuffling into his left hand, and the other Roach follows her lead, sniffing at Geralt’s right hand tentatively. He starts to nibble at the purple flowers. When they’re done, Geralt examines the scraps of cloth, pulling it back so he can look at the stitches. It looks like everything is healing cleanly, and Geralt hums in satisfaction. 

He stays with his horses for a little while longer, watching them navigate each other and making sure neither is being too ornery to the other. He huffs a soft laugh when the gelding prances around Roach in circles, until she headbutts past him to continue grazing without disturbance. 

The sun is just breaking over the horizon when he starts to make the short trek back to the cottage, looking forward to waking Jaskier up properly. 

-

Jaskier groans and blinks awake again at a banging on the door. He squints his eyes, trying to avoid the early morning light as he grabs his robe and stumbles toward the door, figuring Geralt has his hands too full to open it. He’s probably bringing home a fawn to nurse back to health, if the pattern holds. Jaskier snorts to himself at the thought. He wonders if Geralt could be talked into stew instead, but he imagines the pleading eyes Geralt would aim at him and already finds himself softening. 

He swings the door open and is met not with Geralt and a deer, but a man with a scar and a rather portly goat. 

The man scowls at him. “Where’s Geralt?”

Jaskier pulls his robe tighter around himself as his hackles raise. “Who’s asking?”

“That’s none of your concern. What is your concern is what I’m going to do to you if you don’t tell me. This place reeks of him.”

Jaskier raises his eyebrows. “You’re a witcher?” he asks. He looks at the man’s scar more carefully, then back down at the goat, munching contentedly on a stray dandelion growing through the stones. “Eskel?” he guesses.

He opens the door wider, gesturing for Eskel to come in. He does, hesitantly, and Jaskier waves a hand at the table, telling him to take a seat. Jaskier frowns at the goat that’s trailed in after them. “Geralt’s checking on his horses, but he should be back soon,” Jaskier says. 

“And who are you?”

“Geralt’s…friend.”

Eskel looks him up and down skeptically. “Right. I’m sure Geralt tells all his friends about me.”

Jaskier’s cheeks burn, so he turns around and pulls a pot down from a cabinet before picking up the fire iron and poking at the embers. He throws a handful of wood chips onto the hot spot, and blows a gentle breath on them. They light, and Jaskier piles on some larger twigs. Once there’s a happy blaze crackling, he throws on a large log (that Geralt looked very handsome while chopping) and looks back to Eskel, who’s watching him carefully and petting the spot between the goat’s horns. 

“Breakfast?” he asks weakly, willing Geralt to hurry up. 

Eskel nods his assent, so Jaskier cracks some eggs into a bowl and slices some bread to toast. 

“So. What are you looking for Geralt for?” Jaskier asks conversationally. 

Eskel shrugs. “Haven’t seen him in a while. He didn’t come to Kaer Morhen last winter.” Eskel looks at Jaskier accusingly, and the tips of his ears turn red to match his face. “I heard he was shacking up somewhere around here, and I need help with a contract, anyway.”

Jaskier stirs the eggs more vigorously. “Oh?”

“Pack of drowners; more than I’d like to face alone. Besides, it’s perfect that you’re here, actually, you can watch Li’l Bleater for me.”

“Li’l—excuse me?”

“Li’l Bleater. She’s pregnant, so I don’t exactly want her in the thick of things.”

Jaskier looks at the goat’s rounded stomach more carefully, noting the way she’s starting to bag up. He scratches his neck. “Well, Geralt’s really the one who’s better with animals. I don’t think—”

“Nonsense. You won’t even notice she’s here.”

“Not until she gets placenta all over my floor, I imagine.”

Eskel scoffs. “She’s not due for another couple weeks at least. She’s not nearly wide enough.”

Jaskier can’t see how she could still walk around if she gets wider, but he’ll take Eskel’s words at face value. 

“Besides,” Eskel continues, “she eats the placenta.”

Jaskier feels faint at the idea. He turns around and pokes at the eggs, deciding they’re done. He scrapes them onto three plates and puts toast beside them, feeling proud he didn’t burn anything for once. 

He’s just setting the plates on the table when Geralt bursts in. His face immediately twists into delight at the sight of Eskel, and that dashes any hopes Jaskier had of them not gallivanting off together..

Ah, well. He supposes it will be good for Geralt to get out; he avoids the tiny village and its market like the plague, and Jaskier can’t say he doesn’t know why. 

Even when Jaskier goes by himself, he’s still greeted with whispers and drawn faces, so he can see why Geralt prefers to skip it altogether. If Geralt did go with him and anyone dared to say anything to their faces, Jaskier would be forced to make a scene, and he doesn’t think Geralt would appreciate that very much. 

He jerks his attention back to Geralt and Eskel, where Geralt is leaning down to give Li’l Bleater a hearty scratch, because of course he is. Jaskier plunks himself down in the wooden chair and sullenly eats his eggs, mollified when Geralt’s hand lands on his thigh and starts to rub circles into it with his thumb. 

“—Shouldn’t be gone more than three days,” Geralt is saying as Jaskier bites into his dry toast. 

It tastes like dust. “When are you leaving, then?” 

Geralt looks to Eskel. “As soon as possible,” Eskel answers. 

Jaskier wipes his hands on his pants and stands up, sighing. Geralt shoots him a concerned look, full of questions, and Jaskier is sure he’s two seconds away from saying he doesn’t have to go. Jaskier knows the itch under Geralt’s skin has been intensifying, knows that for all Geralt isn’t meant to stomp from contract to contract, never taking a break, he’s not built for being just a farm hand, either. 

Jaskier shoots him a reassuring smile and tentatively pats Li’l Bleater on the head. “I’m sure we’ll be able to manage without you for a few days.”

Geralt and Eskel stand up, too, and Geralt closes his hand around Jaskier’s wrist. “Don’t burn the place down,” he says. 

A smile twitches at Jaskier’s lips, because that’s proof Geralt is coming back. He’s not going to go out and get the wanderlust from his younger years, he’s going to return to Jaskier. Good thing, too; Jaskier can barely take care of himself, much less the animals Geralt is amassing. Now they’re up to three for sure, and Jaskier is fairly certain he’s seen a dog trailing around behind Geralt. As long as it doesn’t end up at the foot of their bed, Jaskier is content for Geralt to do whatever makes him happy. 

Jaskier glances at Eskel, who’s staring at them both, but he’s not going to let Geralt run off without a kiss. To his surprise, it’s Geralt that leans in to press his lips against Jaskier’s. Geralt pulls back, tugging at his hair and giving Jaskier a bashful grin. 

Jaskier pushes playfully against his chest. “Be safe, you sap.”

Geralt grunts, the tip of his ears turning red, before he drags Eskel out the door. The door slams shut behind them, but not before Jaskier hears Eskel teasing Geralt. “Is that your boyfriend?” he sings.

There’s a solid thwack sound, and a, “I’m just jerking your chain, Geralt,” before they’re out of earshot, and Jaskier turns to Li’l Bleater. 

They stare at each other until she creeps forward to nibble on the edge of Jaskier’s doublet. 

He sighs. He can deal with a chew-happy goats. As long as she keeps her kids inside of her until Eskel returns, they’ll be fine.

read the rest on ao3 here!

#the witcher #geralt of rivia #jaskier #eskel #lil bleater #geralt is a horse girl at his core #fanfiction #fluff

[abluescarfonwaston]

IMO I don't think Yen ever gets better 😬 I dunno if she's the kind of lady who would ever be able to stop chucking jam jars if you know what I mean. I can't tell if it's just shitty writing or bad interpretation on my part, but I really want to claw Yen's eyes out sometimes. Her calling Ciri ugly, even as a ""nickname""was just...... awful. Yen screams at Geralt and he just takes it. But also they seem don't talk about their problems or discuss fidelity expectations and it's kinda uncomfy idk

[part 2]Not that Yen is a bad character by any means!!! I should say. I kinda think that the relationship she and Geralt have is incredibly unhealthy at times, and I never really felt like book!Yen grew into a mother role for Ciri. Maybe as a mentor, but not a parent? Emotionally she's kind of a wreck at all times. I know these are spicy opinions and I should probably read the books through again, but that was my takeaway from my first read-through. Haven't played the games so can't really speak to that

[part 3] Another caveat: i LOVE the fandom interpretation of Yen. Just don't really care for her in canon

Hmmmm. There is definitely issues with how she is written in the story. I mean. This was pretty clearly written by a straight man in the 70′s. Well. I wouldn’t put it that far back but. Progressive for the time. Rough for today.

She does have issues with control and power and anger. They all have shitty coping mechanisms. Geralt, Yennfer, Dandelion. All of them. So I do genuinely worry for Geralt’s safety in that relationship. At least with the versions of her that would throw things. Or hurt him with magic.

Yeah for how ‘communicative’ this Geralt is. Theirs not actually a lot of communication that seems to happen. I can see why every other version of the story just. Had him talk less. When you can See him you need less words to be able to tell the audience what’s happening.

I haven’t seen her call Ciri ugly yet. I’d assumed that it was like a reversal of Daisy saying ‘I hope she grows up pretty and stupid. That’s the best thing a girl can be in this world.’ And Yennefer - as someone who grew up ‘ugly’ is saying the opposite. I hope you grow up ugly and smart. But i can definitely see why it could easily be upsetting or miss it’s mark.

I really hope she does grow into the mother role for Ciri. I need her to. It is so important to me for her character. Game Ciri seems to think of her as mother. If I have to I will be satisfied with that.

And just to be fair- they are all emotional wrecks at all times.

So far Book! Yennefer I feel bad for but don’t want her in a relationship with Geralt. Hexer! Yennefer I feel Very bad for because honestly from the tiiiiny bit we see of her screams someone in a great deal of pain. And she’s the closest thing we see in that show to Geralt eagerly participating in a sexual/romantic relationship. Still don’t want them in a relationship. Cause I trust that Jaskier with Geralt’s emotional wellbeing and he doesn’t want them to be together. Game! Yennefer is Badass lady that Geralt CLEARLY adores. but i honestly haven’t seen enough to know if she’s changed meaningfully from the books. I hope so. I want them to be happy. And whatever Triss did in the first game was clearly unforgivable for a lot of people so. Better option? Still wish I could have let him romance Regis instead. They seem like a fitting pair of old men.

Netflix Yennefer Has a Lot of potential for me. She’s clearly been thought out by a team of writers that include actual women. And their discussion to not include Jaskier’s more... repulsive aspects gives me hope that their relationship might grow into something I can enjoy. 

Someone said that the Netflix Geralt/Yennefer relationship isn’t a standard romance. It’s a Kink romance. And Netflix Geralt seems to be into it. (He’s clearly got some Game Geralt influences. That is a man who would enjoy the unicorn i think) So. Depending on how things go in season two I could ship them. It’s just. So much of their relationship appears to be based on their Physical attraction to each other and as an Ace I don’t get that at all.

I remain hopeful. And if not. I will continue to enjoy Fanon Yennefer in all her glory.

[ficsandcatsandficsandcats]

*tosses coins to my writer* Imagine Jaskier is somewhere at court and a lot of people are playing with him and make a fool out of him but he plays along until the end where he proofs that he isn't a fool (cause he is the bard 😉) and knows what is going on. Even Geralt feels sorry for him and apologizes (well, Geralt's version of an apology) not taking him seriously treating him not treating him well or standing up for him. I am in the mood for some good intrigues.

Fandom: The WitcherPairing: Jaskier x Competence Word Count: 1,777Rating: T for swearingTaglist: @heroics-and-heartbreak @whatevermonkey a/n: Oh man did I have fun with this! I don’t usually write intrigue stuff cuz frankly that shit is hard but I hope you like it! Thank you for the idea!

Everybody loves a fool.

Loves to mock them, loves to bed them, loves to keep them around to make themselves look better. Jaskier’s talent for performing didn’t end with the lute but this was a role he performed for an audience of one. If anyone else peeked behind the curtain, and some had come close in the past, they would see that the bright blue eyes and charming smile hid a mind just as – or, frankly, more – keen and cunning as any around him. The advantage he possessed was a taste for the fine things in life which people translated as vapid. An error he took advantage of as often as possible.

There were times he nearly told Geralt the truth. Hell, there were times he tried to but the witcher was too determined to see him one way. He focused on the times Jaskier stumbled, and admittedly those weren’t all pretend, he was only human after all. He never seemed to notice the cleverness that aided as much as it sometimes harmed.

Until the ball.

For once Geralt had been the one to lead them to the party. Usually he had to beg the witcher to come but this time he was looking for something.

“Remind me what this thingamajig you’re looking for is,” Jaskier said, running a hand through his hair one final time before heading out towards the manor.

“Don’t worry about it,” Geralt replied, as effusive as always.

“Oh come now, I could help you look for it you know,” Jaskier offered.

“You’ll serve me better by staying out of the way,” was the anticipated response. Thankfully one of the many tools Jaskier possessed was sheer stubbornness.

“What if it’s someplace you’re not able to go, hmm?” Jaskier asked, “Like a salon for entertainers only or well hidden in a corset pocket.”

“Pockets don’t have corsets.”

“Of course they do Geralt, most people just call them breasts.”

His cheeky remark was met with stony silence and a look that bordered on withering.

“What is the harm in me knowing? What if I promise not to actively go searching for it but if I happen to see it I just don’t see the point in me not KNOWING what I’m looking at and-”

“It’s a fucking amulet now will you stay out of the way and let me work?” Geralt snapped. Jaskier considered him for a moment, not a little bit frustrated himself but too smart to show it.

“What does the amulet look like?” he asked.

“Yellow stones, shape of a sun,” Geralt replied, “But Jaskier if you see it, do not touch it. Swear to me that you’ll leave it alone.”

“I won’t touch your bauble, Geralt. I’ll be too busy putting on what may be my best performance yet,” Jaskier said, doing up the buttons of his doublet and then thinking again and undoing them. Geralt grunts, satisfied for the time being that Jaskier will be distracted, and the two set off towards the manor.

 The two fell into their natural pattern, orbiting around each other like planets in the heavens. Geralt traveled around the perimeter of the room while Jaskier proudly stood in the middle, performing songs that ranged from bawdy to beautiful to some strange mix of the two that could make you blush and sigh in a single breath. Jaskier wasn’t oblivious to the sneering of some of the nobles around him. Though he was technically of noble birth his choice in profession as a traveling bard wasn’t up to the standards the people here held. When he took his break to wander the room and chat up the people he’d caught giving him interested looks he heard some of the unkinder comments they made comfortably within his earshot.

“…travels with that Witcher, can you imagine?”

“…Countess de Stael finally got right of him, I can’t imagine why she kept him around for so long.”

“….o Marx should be here now that is a performer.”

Some of the words were heartfelt, others just spoken to rile him. Every now and then he saw Geralt glowering at whoever had spoken the words, but he kept to himself, still searching from the outside for the amulet. Jaskier feigned obliviousness and continued to flirt and charm the men and women who pulled him into their little cliques. Each took their turn offering backhanded compliments and making less than subtle propositions. He acted properly flustered and proud and honored and when the hostess and her lover (Jaskier had figured that out in an instant, the husband clearly hadn’t yet, ah well) crept into the library to speak they took Jaskier with him.

“Lord I will be pleased when this is all done with,” the hostess said, flopping down into a chair seated before the unlit hearth.

“When the devil are we getting on with it anyway?” the lover asked.

“What extraordinary gilding,” Jaskier said, complimenting the arch above the door. He’d learned that the best way to overhear what you clearly weren’t supposed to wasn’t to skulk about and try to make them forget you weren’t there. It was better to just make yourself seem distracted and oblivious. The hostess smiled at him like one might a particularly clever pet and then turned her attention back to her lover

“I’ve slipped it in his cloak pocket. Tomorrow when he puts it on for his morning ride he’ll pull it out and think it’s just one of my trinkets but that’s all be has to do, touch it,” she explained.

“You know when you invited me in here I rather thought we would be doing more than talking,” Jaskier said, breaking into their conversation and leveling the hostess with a seductive smile. The lover glowered but the hostess smiled sweetly at him.

“Alas, I am taken for the evening, but you will likely find others eager for your entertainment,” she said. Jaskier’s face fell a bit and then quickly recovered and he put on a big show of trying to seem unaffected. And then, adding insult to presumed injury, she pulled a handkerchief from her bosom and tossed it to him.

“To remember me by,” she said, and he snatched it up gratefully.

As he shut the door behind him he heard the lover make some comment about him, he couldn’t hear exactly what but the hostess chastised him though her voice was amused.

As soon as he closed the door behind him he was called to perform again and he did. When they asked him to perform a ballad written by Valdo Marx he saw Geralt, scanning the crowd carefully looking for the item, pause and look to him. He gave him the same look Jaskier had once given him in a similar event years ago. Unlike Geralt, his ill humor wouldn’t leave people dead and it would play into the role. So he blustered and not a little bit of genuine frustration spilled out (though deep down he knew if Valdo Marx had been there he would have been asked to perform Jaskier’s songs).

“Tell me sir bard, what is it like having one’s most celebrated work be the result of another’s greatness?” a man asked after Jaskier finished Toss A Coin To Your Witcher. Jaskier laughed, a fake, hurt laugh that made the asker smug and satisfied.

Jaskier left the hall, slinking away and stumbling a bit for good measure. As soon as he was clear of the main hall he hurried to find the kitchens. The servants paid him no mind other than to ask him brusquely to move out of their way, assuming he was running from someone or for something and not paid to worry about it either way. The stables were even easier to navigate and he made a mental note to tell Geralt never to trust Roach to a lord’s care and keeping because their stablehands were nowhere to be found, likely off playing cards or drinking. The riding cloak was where he knew it would be, hanging by the stable door of the most beautiful black horse he’d ever seen. He briefly considered stealing it but decided it wasn’t worth the trouble, instead using the handkerchief the hostess had given him to pick up the amulet and deposit it into his doublet pocket, careful to wind the fabric around twice to prevent accidentally touching it.  

 He was nearly back to the front of the house when he saw Geralt approaching, leading Roach.

“Ah Geralt! I got all turned around but there you go saving me again,” Jaskier said.

“Let’s go,” Geralt said.

“Yes, I agree it’s gotten quite dull,” Jaskier said. They walked together towards the road in silence until Geralt stopped and turned to face his friend.

“Why did you let them talk to you like that?” he demanded. Jaskier widened his eyes and feigned alarm.

“What? How is this my fault?” he challenged.

“That thing they said about your most celebrated work being the result of another’s greatness. You knew that was bullshit but you let them say it anyway,” Geralt said. He was angry which wasn’t new but for once he wasn’t angry at Jaskier, he was angry for him.

“You wouldn’t understand,” Jaskier said, with more sincerity than Geralt could possibly know.

“Well the next time it happens I don’t care how hard you shake your head, I’m going to put an end to it,” Geralt said, his tone threatening and endearingly protective. Jaskier didn’t have to pretend to be bewildered.

“Well I’m sorry my personal distress was so inconvenient for you,” he replied sarcastically, fighting hard to keep the smile at bay.

“Hmm. Well it was a waste of an evening anyway. The amulet wasn’t there,” he said.

“Oh you mean this one?” Jaskier asked, producing the wrapped item from his pocket.

“I told you not to touch it, for fuck’s sake Jaskier you have no idea what you’ve done!” Geralt cried, taking the item with a gloved hand.

“I didn’t touch it, thank you very much, my skin never touched its surface,” Jaskier’s tone was insulted but he was secretly amused, knowing full well the panic he’d put Geralt through and enjoying every bit of it. Geralt scrutinized him for a moment but ultimately, seeing no overt signs of devastation or death, put the item in a sack.

“Where did you find it anyway?” he asked, climbing onto Roach as they reached the road.

“Oh you know me, Geralt,” Jaskier said with a sly smile, “I just sort of run into things.”

“Hmm.”

They walked (and rode) in silence the rest of the way back to the tavern.

#mynamesoundslikesherlock #jaskier x competence #jaskier imagines #jaskier: nay a twink nor a himbo #reader request

[gayregis]

sleipnirlo replied to your post “bro if im this petty about how they treat dandelion think about how...”

I feel you friend - from what we've got already, whatever they're doing to Dandelion/Jaskier seems... not ideal, to put it gracefully, and it pains me quite a bit, but if/when they get to Regis... considering the pain in my heart during some parts of b&w, having in mind that I generally believe cdpr's interpretation to be proper (aside from some jarring mistakes) it's going to be a completely another level of ridiculousness on my part; like,, I know it's most probably not possible for the show to meet my standards, but pls... just... get SOMETHING right...

I came to feel so protective of this particular vampire, and people not familiar with the books knowing him as a caricature of himself fills me with dread

tbh my main hope for regis if/when they get to him is that they don’t shy away from making him complicated. he’s kind, also ominous, also funnie … to summarize: shitty old bitch. 

b&w did this thing where they just made regis a very solemn character and also made him closer to the typical arrogant immortal which was just ooc imho... and then they created a new plotline that revolved around him being Uncontrollably Violent for a few seconds which.......... like i just found it SO disrespectful to how regis’s backstory is an analogy for alcoholism/addiction in general........ they literally did the opposite of humanizing him, they uh... monsterfied him? 

regis’s entire character (like geralt’s, and also the rest of the hansa’s) is about paradox and logistical impossibilities. if you’re this, you can’t be that -- but he’s both, for some fucking reason, he defies logic. 

regis is supposed to thread this weird line of what is man and what is monster, and if you’re kind for a century does that make up for three centuries of absolute cruelty? what does it mean to act honorably? at what point can you feel safe and trust someone? 

one thing i appreciate about regis’s character is that he’s always just seemed to go BEYOND his context in the fictional world he exists in. at the end of the day, these characters are not the people we love them to be, but rather messages about what ARE good and evil, what IS humanity, and other deep questions the witcher loves to tackle. within the books, i got a VERY clear sense of how regis as a character was answering these questions and the kind of messages sapkowski was trying to communicate with him. same with the rest of the hansa, in fact. that’s... why... the hansa and ciri and yennefer are my favorites...

to contrast, in blood & wine, i didn’t get this sense of existing beyond the context of the media at all. cdpr just wanted cool vampires which is fine, but the elements of the books are lost because they just gave them up

(wow this got long sorry! i just wanted to explain my thought process behind this list im about to give) 

as for netflix.............. i don’t necessarily think that regis is easy or difficult to cover. but IN MY OPINION nailing these things would help out regis’s character the best:

we should feel safe. one of the things that struck me so hard when reading baptism of fire was how much i initially trusted regis when they found him in that stupid graveyard, despite being well-familiar with the adage of “stranger danger.” he just seemed safe to me. 

this is probably because of how eloquent he is and how omniscient he has the ability to come off as..... so good writing for his dialogue that captures his superfluous nature, that isn’t just what cdpr did where “funny smart guy use big words unnecessarily” ... no, you need to put effort into it by having him use words of an intermediate vocabulary, but using them in such a way as to philosophize about everything and anything that comes up. 

this also relies heavily on how regis delivers his lines when they first meet him. all of his dialogue cues are like, “said softly,” “said gently.” there’s NO aggression, no harm in this man. no reason to fear him.

the atmosphere of his cottage should really communicate this wonderful sense of bucolic bliss, as it were.... the intoxicating heavy scent of herbs... the only lighting in the cottage being fro a pot-bellied stove........ remember, geralt describes this as having could have come directly from a fairytale. in contrast, fen carn should feel ominous, until his appearance.

costume design! don’t forget the apron wrapped around his black coat, please! who can fear a man in an apron?

we should feel suspicious. we SHOULD still feel like he’s harboring some kind of dark secret, though. 

there are so many little clues and points in baptism of fire that hint at his identity, that just should NOT be cut out or overlooked: him being able to detect the healing brokilon medicines in geralt’s sweat, when he refuses the drink politely and says softly, “it’s a matter of principle. i never violate the principles i set for myself,” the dipping into a conversation to name every type of vampire that exists......... the sense that he knows just a little too much to be only who he says he is.

cahir and dandelion making guesses as to who he ‘really’ is shouldn’t be cut out, either. i think their guesses are conduits for the audience to attach onto as we make our own guesses and theories within this short amount of time.

we should feel fear. oh so cdpr wanted crazy ass vampires? well don’t worry, because regis is a crazy ass vampire. but how to get this through to the audience, when he’s not off his shits anymore because it’s the 13th century and not the 9th? it’s going to need to come mostly from geralt. 

they should emphasize the tension in the scene by the yaruga where geralt has his blade to regis’s throat by having geralt’s lines be delivered in a very precise, careful manner. he shouldn’t be furious and dripping with adrenaline, ready to fight regis. he needs to be wary, conserved. we need to sense apprehension to engage in conflict, because he knows that he would likely lose the fight... which will freak the audience out, because asides from that bit with djikstra, geralt up until this point has been pretty powerful and undefeated, i mean we just saw him cleave his way through a fuckton of scoiatel at thanedd (that bit with torque in edge of the world was more for comedic relief imho)

on a related note, the scene where milva and dandelion have doubts about regis and ask geralt for advice, and geralt answers with a laundry list of all the things regis can do and says for himself that he doesn’t know if he could kill him....... that shouldn’t be cut and should strike some fear into our hearts.

regis shouldn’t be devoid of humor. he has his own sense of weird humor...

please keep the fucking pun in: “the immortal soul (...) abandons the stinking carcass and spirits away, forgive the pun.” i think this demonstrates how he has this kind of skewed sense of humor, that serious philosophical topics aren’t dull to him... rather they are exciting and full of riveting debate and also, jokes

that really long conversation with geralt where he concludes with “but i’ll give you some advice anyways: life differs from banking somewhat,” and in the fish soup scene where he really makes fun of geralt as well... but really the whole company should do this

don’t make him an asshole

he should be self-sacrificing for humanity. he should protect the girl in the refugee camp with the utmost conviction... i think this part is kind of easier because regis’s pure actions in the books are enough to demonstrate how committed to humanity he is, unlike cdpr which just made shit up and it went sour because their shit was all like “oh haha humans are so weak and i dont get why they dislike death :/”

tldr: don’t cut shit because even the smallest details add to the larger picture, make a cool atmosphere, paradox of safety and fear. you’re welcome

#sleipnirlo #replies #regis #the witcher netflix #this post basicaly answers the 'what are your hopes and fears for twn regis :3' wonderful question that ive gotten a bit #long post /