#witcher stuff

[kirammountains]

I just love Ciri’s look in this I’m sobbing just ahh the little lines and everything I’m

[entwife508]

Witchers with animal behaviors are the new hotness. I think lots of the Schools would show denning/nesting behaviors with the possible exception of the Vipers, who are more solitary by nature. I imagine the Cranes are the best dancers overall (bird mating displays!). Wolves and Cats probably have an urge to bury valued items. Manticores probably get twitchy if they don't get out hunting often enough. I LOVE the idea of the Cats kneading and having feline startle reflexes, and them and the Vipers basking in the sun. How many times has someone almost tripped over a Cat or Viper lying on the battlements or in a corridor with an obliging window?

[risualto]

1, 14, 20, 39, 43, 48, 67 for the video game asks!

Thanks for asking!!  These are so fun.

1. First game you played obsessively? Neopets.  Absolutely Neopets.  I was so obsessed that my mother got worried about me (I was 9 years old), so she checked out the game, and she fell in love, too, with this silly little children’s game with point-and-click adventures and typing minigames and a dumb economy and cool comics.  That was the first video game we ever played together, but not the last.

14. Favorite game music? Already answered!  But I will also shout out The Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, which has a lovely soundtrack, too.

20. Game that you know like the back of your hand? There are several.  The most recent one is Doki Doki Literature Club!, which I studied for a good two weeks, rifling through the code and decrypting background files--everything short of running a hidden audio file through a spectrograph, which I didn’t have (I googled the result there)--so that a friend of mine would feel less scared of it since it was made rational.

39. A sequel that you would die for them to make? Already answered!

43. Ever play games when you really should have been concentrating on something else? Oh, all the time in high school.  All the time.  Usually an MMO with my friends, but various Pokemon games also tempted me.

48. How long does it take your to customize your player character? Already answered!

67. Do you have a happy gaming-related childhood memory you want to share? I have so many.  Gaming was and still is so important to me, and it’s given me friends and stories, so I have a lot of good memories.  But the one that came to mind was probably when I was in sixth grade, and I got a phone call from the person who would become my best friend for the next five years.  We’d both apparently gone to the store with our moms the day before, and we were talking about the fact that both of us got a new DS game to play, and that we were having a good time with the games.  And then my friend started telling me about the beginning of his, trying to convince me that I should play it, too, because I’d like it.  About two minutes in, I cut off his story, excitedly telling him exactly what happened next in the intro, because it turned out that we had bought the exact same game, and we were both so invested in it that we desperately wanted to share it with each other.  We laughed so hard that my cheeks hurt.

[julek]

okay but why does this look like a dollar-store geralt that jaskier takes to his gigs around the continent while making him wear dark clothes and calling him gerald

[julek]

jaskier had been working on his newest song for months, as geralt had reluctantly been a witness to his creative process. and what a process it had been: humming for hours on end walking next to roach as they approached their next town; repeating the same line over and over, trying to think of the next rhyme; getting up in the middle of the night, scrambling for his quill and notebook because that’s the word i was looking for, geralt!

so when jaskier triumphantly announces that his ballad is done, and just needs to be written down, geralt feels some tension leave his shoulders. it’s funny, really; as much as he loves to deny even listening to the bard’s musings and constant chattering, he’d been subconsciously rooting for him. geralt’s come to understand how important jaskier’s singing is to him, how his lute is basically an extension of himself and his embellished speech is not hyperbolic, it’s natural. the bard’s good at what he does, too; he’s seen it firsthand. the way he can have a tavern full of people dancing around with just a flick of his wrist one moment, and have them quietly shed tears as he sings of longing, and heartache, and lust the next.

they get to a clearing in the woods, and geralt starts setting up camp. jaskier gets his notebook and quill from roach’s saddlebags, sitting on the ground next to the pile of firewood. he was eager to finally give his ballad the finishing touches, and get it on the very expensive and scarce pieces of paper he’d managed to acquire while geralt had been hunting the bruxa that’d been terrorizing the town they were passing through. the townsfolk were poor and there was no inn for them to sleep in, so they had to settle for another night of sleeping under the stars.

“i can’t believe my masterpiece is complete! they’ll be singing my praises everywhere across the continent, you’ll see”, jaskier says, as he sticks his quill in the small bottle of ink he’s precariously balancing on his thigh. “of course, jaskier, they’ll adore you and queen calanthe of cintra herself will request your presence at every banquet. why, thank you geralt, for your precious and incredibly accurate comm—”

jaskier gasps and geralt turns around to face him and see what could have possibly diverted the bard’s attention from— well, himself; only to find him gaping and staring at his lap, where he’d spilled his ink. his doublet sports a big, black stain on the side, but jaskier is more preoccupied with the ink that’s covering the majority of his fine paper.

fuck, geralt’s never gonna hear the end of this.

he braces himself for an unending stream of cursing and fussing, but instead, he is met with silence. jaskier looks at the ruined paper for a moment, his expression blank, and tosses it into the fire. geralt breathes in the sour scent of disappointment, but there’s no anger attached to it.

they eat in silence, and jaskier lies on his back on his bedroll, but geralt knows he isn’t asleep. he can easily imagine why the bard is upset; he’d heard all about the man that had tried to charge him way more than the paper was actually worth, i may like the finer things in life, but do i look like a fool to you? wait— don’t answer that. he also knows how eager jaskier’d been to immortalize his song in paper, not only for aesthetic purposes, but also because this particular ballad was worthy, in jaskier’s opinion, of being sent to oxenfurt, for his professors to critique. 

suddenly, the peace and quiet geralt had been praying for since he met the bard falls flat. he’ll feel better in the morning, geralt thinks, this isn’t such a big deal. he’ll live.

and yet.

 geralt knows what a life devoid of comfort is like. for a long time, it’d been the only life he knew. walking the path, getting a contract, collecting his coin, and moving on; that had been his daily routine for a long time. if he had nothing to look forward to, little could disappoint him. the less people he let in his life, the better.

and then jaskier came along. 

jaskier, who’d sing every night, even for uninterested crowds who would only heckle at him, just to secure a bed for geralt. jaskier, who’d spend a ridiculous amount of coin on chamomile oil, because he knows it’s the only one geralt’s sensitive nose can tolerate. jaskier, who’d go out of his way to get a new brush for roach, who’d lash out at people for talking shit about witchers, and detangle geralt’s hair after a contract gone sideways. jaskier, who gives, and gives, and gives, and never asks for anything in return.

and the truth is, he deserves more. so much more than geralt could ever give him. and even if he could never afford to give jaskier the highest luxuries in life, he has to try. 

 geralt keeps some pieces of parchment in his pack, for the rare occasions he has to write to vesemir. they’re rolled up and tied with a small leather band, but geralt figures it’ll do. he grabs jaskier’s notebook from where he left it, abandoned, next to their fire. geralt knows jaskier keeps early drafts of his songs in it, but never the full piece — what if someone steals it, geralt? what if some half-assed, poor excuse of a bard comes across my precious lyrics, and steals my songs? so he tries to remember the little details jaskier had left out, while attempting to decipher jaskier’s calligraphy. in the end, he gets the entire song out on the parchment, and he feels it’s decent enough. 

at last, he falls asleep.

 -

geralt wakes up to the sound of anxious pacing. he rubs a hand over his tired eyes, and opens them to see a very flustered bard at his side. 

“you— last night— you did this for me!”. jaskier gestures to the parchment splayed out on his bedroll, his expression unreadable. geralt can’t tell if he’s pleased or not, but at least he doesn’t smell upset anymore.

“i know it doesn’t look very good, and it’s not real paper”, geralt says, looking away. “i guess… i— you were upset.”

“i was”, jaskier says, and his is voice soft. geralt feels a hand cup his chin, and he looks up at jaskier. his blue eyes are as clear as the morning sky, and geralt finds himself staring a little too hard. “thank you, geralt. it means a lot to me. really. and i mean, your handwriting is far more legible than mine, they’ll love this at oxenfurt!”

at that, geralt smiles, and receives a goofy grin in turn. 

“well, i’m famished. breakfast?”. jaskier holds his hand out for geralt, and he’s about to turn him down, about to grunt something about how he’s a witcher, strong enough to get up on his own, thank you very much, but he takes it, instead. 

he feels jaskier squeeze his ink-stained hand as he stands up, and he should let go. he should let jaskier enjoy the life that’s so clearly laid out for him; the finest of wines and the fairest of ladies, the softest of silks and the most adoring of crowds. but jaskier looks at him, and he smells like honey and something else he can’t quite place. home, geralt decides, and nods. 

“breakfast.”

[julek]

me, coming into the fandom: jaskier? a true Baby™️ who could not hurt a fly, noodle arms and toothpick legs, barely strong enough to play his lute, who shall always be protected by his big, strong witcher companion

me, two months in: oh yeah, jaskier? the buff dude right? the beefy chunky motherfucker? the ripped guy over there, currently picking geralt up with one hand while playing the lute? yeah i know him

[julek]

vesemir be like ‘yes, of course i love my sons equally. i love eskel... gerald? and [looks at smudged writing on hand] albert all the same’

[julek]

yennefer: welcome to the “fuck jaskier” support group, where we gather to say ‘fuck you’ to that pathetic excuse of a bard

yennefer: but first, a few words from our newest member!

geralt, sweating: i think i may have misunderstood—